#refocus rosie

[rosicheeks]

you’re a saint!!! thank you for the suggestion!! that’s what i use now, and sometimes also baby powder. i walk a lot, so it only holds up perfectly for about four hours. i keep an extra one in my purse so it’s a great hack if there’s a washroom nearby, when there’s not i just suffer lol. i also feel really weird about using deodorant for it because i feel like no one else does so thank youuuu

Ok ok ok so I’m going to talk cause I have a lot to say about this!

Hello my dear! I hope you’re having such a wonderful day/night ☺️🌻

So first of all the only other “trick” I know is biker shorts? I know (at least for me) it’s really hard to find plus size biker shorts that don’t cut off the circulation for my thick thighs 🤦🏽‍♀️

BUT they are out there!!! Idk where you live so idk if you want suggestions of places (you can DM me if you want some!) I found one pair that fit and I bought like 20 pairs 😂😂😂

ALSO I’m the type of person to typically not care if I have to put deodorant on tbh. I just go around a corner or in somewhat private and put some on really fast. What I’ve noticed is most people aren’t paying attention to anyone but themselves and if they do see you what’s the worst that can happen? They think you’re weird and they’ll move on and forget about it shortly after. BUUUUT if you *dont* put deodorant on or anything then you’re going to be in some chafed pain 😭

I’m trying *really* hard to live my life not giving a fuck what other people think about me. No matter what I do they’ll judge me so might as well do what I want ☺️

[actual-corpse]

Saw a YT vid with the title, "Fandom Can't Handle Asexuality"

You're right, they can't... Because it doesn't fucking exist to them.

[infinitywrites]

I Didn't Expect You ~ Conrad Fisher

(Part 2) (Masterlist)

gif credit @henryofwales

synopsis: Y/N never expected it to be the summer that everything changed. Conrad, Belly and Steven were all dealing with the consequences of recent break ups while Jeremiah's wasn't acting like himself. Susannah was undergoing treatment that provided unpredictable health results and kept her loved ones on the edge of tragedy. Had they drained the well of the magic of Cousin's beach? Or could something new fulfil it again?

warnings: multichapter slow burn, warnings will update with every chapter, timeline is post SEASON 2 with changes, Susannah is sick, Belly is heartbroken, Jere is bitter, Conrad is struggling, everyone swears, Laurel/Cleveland, Belly and YN briefly critique their bodies but the focus is ultimately positive

word count: 2,275

___________________________________________

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

This summer there was no one to greet us when we pulled up at the beach house. It was quiet but the beauty of Cousin's Beach and the house itself was as overwhelming on first glance as it had always been. Maybe the sky seemed filled with a few more clouds, darker even without someone to remind the boys that the Conklin-Parks had arrived. Either way, Steven and Belly didn't seem to notice and were already grabbing their bags and bickering about who had their house key handy.

"Do you think we're the first ones here?" I asked as I walked up slowly to the property to look for signs of life.

Belly was by your side in moments, "No, Jere said he was picking up Rosie's for lunch. He should be here somewhere. They were supposed to get here a little early to make sure Susannah was all set up with…everything." I just nodded and watched her walk to the door with the key. It wasn't surprising that she didn't mention Conrad.

Belly had already vented her nerves about coming at all after her breakup with Conrad at Prom. I didn't blame her and assured her I'd be right by her side no matter what happened or what was said. Belly and Conrad grew up together just like the rest of us and if no one else would make sure a failed romance wasn't going to ruin that forever, I definitely was. They hadn't talked since and I promised I'd help her fix it and I would. Conrad would be reasonable about it whether he liked it or not. I was always a fixer, the Mom friend if you will, and there was no reason this could be fixed.

Last summer when I saw it brewing between them I couldn't help but worry. Of course, I wanted Belly to have what she'd always wanted but could Conrad really return her feelings of adoration and worship the same way? Apparently yes, for the six months they were together at least. But it had been three months since the breakup and I knew I had to do everything I could to refocus the group into supporting each other. There had been too much drifting and it broke my heart. Despite life changes causing difficulty in the planning of it all, everyone had agreed to come back to Cousin's for the 4th at Susannah's request so that was a great start. She would have insisted on the whole summer if she'd had the energy but it was time to accept that some things would just never be the same again. We were barely children anymore and the summers were going to change.

"Y/N! Come on, Jere's got apple cinnamon for you!" Steven called out to me from the open front door.

As soon as I entered the house, the smell washed over me, my shoulders sagging in relief and the comfort of finally being here and smellling that smell brought me. The greetings were quieter when I walked into the familiar kitchen full of people I loved most, just like pulling up to the house but that was okay too. Jeremiah squeezed me just as tight as he always had even if he didn't shout my name and lift me off your feet. This wasn't even the whole gang of people who'd been through hell and back the last year but we were all here. All coming back for Susannah's favourite holiday.

The pressure I put on this last summer before I moved halfway across the country to start my freshman year at Stanford wasn't fair to anyone, especially myself but it felt like the end of an era. With Susannah's health changing everyday, I wasn't sure if it could ever be the same again. Was the magic gone? And if so, could it ever come back again? The test would be when the house was full and the party planning was in full force. Susannah would put us all to work and everything would feel normal again even just for a little while.

"What the--Ohmigod!" I spun around and used my hands to block the cold water drops spraying all over me. "Fuck you too, cretin," I said glaring at the shit-eating grin standing in black surfing gear that awaited me.

Conrad has snuck up behind me during small talk and shook his shaggy soaked hair into the back of my exposed neck. "Always a pleasure Y/N, " he finally said, nodding without looking in my direction again and focusing on greeting the other new arrivals.

I was happy to see a short but sweet acknowledgement between him and Belly and she didn't even look like she wanted to die after so maybe this wouldn't be as hard as I thought. Laurel showed up last, announcing her presence at the door and warning everyone not to embarrass her in front of Cleveland. It was a surprise but a happy one and I knew instantly that Susannah was going to lose her mind in the best way. Conrad mentioned that she would sleep until dinner around 6pm so don't be late.

The boys made plans that didn't interest me or Belly and just as I thought they were leaving I saw Jeremiah pause and look at the guys with intent. Belly was always quick on the uptake and tried to protest but the tradition held strong. The boys celebrated a successful throw that had poor Belly flailing in the air so long it felt like slo mo and this time none of them fell for her tricks and got pulled into the pool after her. Not even me, though I should have when I felt bad for a moment, held my hand out and walked towards the edge of the pool in her direction. Conrad was quicker and scooped me right up off my feet from behind, just in time to escape Belly's trap as I gasped at the realization.

"You wouldn't! I didn't throw you in!"

"Yeah, and you didn't try stop them either!" But even in her feigned anger she was chuckling as she swam to the ladder.

After the shock left my body, I joined the boys in hysterical laughter. Conrad was still holding me tight but he must have lost his balance as I crashed to the ground on top of him. He was still in a fit, only uttering the occasional "ow" which spurred on more giggles that infected everyone else. I got myself together before he did and had to pry his surprisingly strong, wiry arms from my waist to be able to stand again.

"My god, you're like a world's tallest spider monkey." I was trying to give him shit but but the sight of him giggling on the ground made him look like a sweet toddler.

That helped sober him a little, "You love it...besides I saved your ass. You should be thinking up ways to thank me." I only caught his smirk after brushing the grass off my clothes but it was enough to stop me in my tracks and stare him down.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." This was ridiculous and everyone was listening to the two of us– but no, we'd always done this. This was the root of the relationship I'd always had with the oldest Fisher brother. He riled me up and I gave him shit. Simple. "Let me know if you have any special requests," I said over my shoulder as I headed back inside.

"Good idea! I'll text you!" He was yelling now, the idiot, but it was still making the boys laugh so the final word would be Conrad's this time. I could have sworn I'd heard him mumble about how uptight I could be and I was rolling my eyes as I met Belly in the hallway with an exasperated smile that she shared.

Conrad Fisher and I had never been the closest of the group, always seeming to piss each other off in one way or another as kids. Susannah had said that our personalities clashed and that it was a great challenge to overcome as we matured. Anyone would say that both of us were still working on the maturely overcoming it part. It's not like I thought he was a bad guy; he was my friend no matter what, someone who knew me better than most without even trying. If I set a hard boundary he was the first to listen, respect it and make sure everyone else did too while also being the one to lay into me if I screwed up somehow or rib me to death for acting stupid. It was infuriating at worst and addictive at best so I never judged Belly's undying admiration. He was always the leader of the group as the oldest and that came with a certain power that I later realized was also responsibility. Sometimes he knew what I needed even before I did. It was eerie, that sixth sense he had. He was actually pretty damn good at taking care of everyone so sometimes I even let him take care of me too. If Conrad was the fearless leader then Belly was the baby and while he made it look easy taking care of everyone else, I always knew how to take extra special care of her.

The two of you headed upstairs to the room you shared. It originally had a double bed for Belly but Susannah quickly changed it to two singles side by side the second summer you visited. Belly and I liked our tradition of unpacking first; it felt like being at our second home where everything had a place.

"So...how was it?"

I could hear Belly rolling her eyes before she even spoke. "Okay, it could have been worse. I thought he wouldn't even speak to me."

"Why wouldn't he speak to you?"

"Because the last thing he said to me was that he could never give me what I wanted and that I deserved better." She was frustrated as she said it and I couldn't help but sigh.

"I mean, there are worse things to say when you're breaking up with someone..."

"Y/N!"

"What? I'm sorry! It doesn't mean you aren't allowed to be hurt, I'm just saying at least he wasn't a jerk about it." I shrugged and put my pile of new pajamas in the bottom drawer.

Belly paused and turned to look at me, "He said he was sorry it happened that night but he didn't want to be angry at us anymore. Not even me, Y/N, but us."

I got up and went to stroke her arm in a soothing rhythm, "It wasn't fair how it happened but you said you could feel it coming."

Her eyes start to shine with unshed tears, "I thought it was Susannah...I didn't think it could just be me..." When her pretty brown eyes closed the tears ran down her cheeks but she didn't break down, she didn't sob. She just took a deep, steadying breath as her body shifted underneath my hand.

"Hey, it wasn't you, it was him. Look at you, it couldn't have been you, you're stunning!" I shook her shoulders as her lips turned up at the corners. "Absolute perfection! Come here and see." I guided Belly towards the full length mirror on the corner of the room and planted her right in front of it. "Now, I know you thought Conrad was Prince Charming and you'd live happily ever after but fairytales aren't real. But this volleyball bod is." I smacked her butt to make my point and snap her out of her gloomy daze.

"Oh! You're so ridiculous they need to invent a new word–" Hearing her giggle was always a joy because Belly giggled without a hint of shame.

"I'm not finished! I know a breakup can kill your confidence a bit and I need you to look at yourself and really see what you're bringing to the table this hot girl summer."

Even through a big smile she shook her head, "God no, you are so embarrassing."

"I mean, come on, tight ass already acknowledged, newish boobs that are perfectly perky as ever and the prettiest smile on the face of the planet! You can have any boy you want, Isabel Conklin!"

Belly's smile fell a bit as and twisted and turned in the mirror. "You don't think my shoulders are kinda...broad?"

I hung my head as the patience exited my body with a slump. "You're actually insane. Some of us have real problems like cellulite on our thighs and an ass that doesn't fit in most jeans."

"Oh, shut up! Steven told me Frankie and those guys call you 'the ass that won't quit'."

"Belly, I'm not sure that's a compliment." I didn't hate the nickname as long as they didn't say it to my face but I still wasn't sure it meant good things.

"You're delulu, Y/N. Okay, we gotta stop. You're right. Hot girl summer with me and my cousin in Cousin's!" She grabbed my hand and started shifting her feet like we were about to have an impromptu dance party.

I covered my face with my hands and stifled a giggle at the silly phrase, "I fucking hate when you start that shit..." And just like I expected, as my chuckle became a belly laugh, my baby cousin turned on the Bluetooth speaker in my room and we danced out all the pent up heartbreak, nerves, grief and leftover stress and sent it back home where it belonged.

___________________________________________

Author's note: I promise there is so much Conrad and romance coming up even if it wasn't much in this chapter! I hope you stick with me if you saw the potential. So much of this story was inspired by fics I've read in the last few weeks and this is my thank you! Reply with comments and let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist. If you'd like to ask me about any upcoming chapter warnings you wanna be warned of ahead of time (angst? 18+ smut?) then come visit my blog with any questions and I'll be happy to answer!

[tiyawnyana]

Kinkmas: Day 1

Cockwarming

A/N: Hell yeah kinkmas time

Pairing: Na'vi male x Fem! Human reader

Warnings: cockwarming, teasing, almost caught, in public, you can imagine that navi male as any male character

A trickle of sweat beads at your temple, trailing down your jaw, past your rosy cheeks. You swallow thickly, huffing hard out of your nose as you try to refocus on the celebration before you.

Big, blue hands trail up to gently hold your sides, big body looming over you as he kisses the top of your head.

"Just a little while longer, yawntutsyìp," he murmurs soft, breath warm and smelling faintly of the fermented berry drinks handed to him earlier.

You groan inwardly, leaning back against him. His chest shakes lightly with the chuckle rising from his throat, but you know he has a teasing smirk on his lips.

You sit spread on his lap, easy access, much to your misfortune. You idly wish that you hadn't been as eager to sit with him, that you'd gone to dance with Kiri rather than this mortifingly arousing situation.

Just as quick as you had sat down, he was quick to tug your tewng to the side(that he had gifted for this reason), and just as quick slid his hardened cock into your cunt.

It surely had helped that he had railed you just earlier that morning, but your walls still clenched around him like a vice. He had poorly stifled his groan of pleasure while sinking into your wet warmth.

Thank goodness he held your hips, fingers panning out to cover your belly, because you knew for sure that the tip was protruding through your belly under your skin.

Your pussy tightens, pulses around his length and you barely manage to muffle the low moan bubbling from your throat. You wanted so badly for him to fuck you already- but you knew how important this celebration was. Just couldn't understand why he'd want to do something so risky!

Your eyes roll back just slightly as he shifts his hips, cock grinding hard against your inner walls. It's quick to fade, and you huff out the breath you didn't realize you were holding. You twitch in his lap, a pleasant but terrifying buzz in your belly.

"Please- mmph," you whisper hoarsly, biting your lower lip quickly. You blink quickly, trying to remain calm.

His hands squeeze playfully over the swell of your hips,"Just a little while longer, can you do that for me?"

You blink blearily, peeking up at him before huffing,"Fine- you owe me."

They're soon interrupted as a few Na'vi women come by to greet the both of you. They're very quickly diverting their attention to him as you shiver, cunt pulsing around his length. You swallow thickly, trying to play it cool.

He smirks, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you completely before tightening his grip and lifting you up his length only to let go of you completely.

What looked like a sweet, innocent hug, turned into blooming pleasure.

You drop down onto his cock, a choked off whine slipping out from your lips as it stuffs you full again. His cock presses against everything, tip nestled into your cervix. You slump into his chest again, huffing for breath.

You're terrified to look at the women, face already red.

The Na'vi women grin, one even offering to get you some water, saying how you must be drunk already but you politely decline. They're just as quick to head off back into the dances.

You huff, gripping his arms as he holds you against his chest.

"Fuck you," you pant out.

"Soon," he grins, fangs peeking from his mouth,"Just sit there and be pretty, yawne."

A/N: hoping this kicks me back into gear, happy Kinkmas!!

Tags: @akoyaxs @vee1728

[bloodynereid]

Burnt Longing

part 4 of Those Sunlit Kisses! you can find part 1 here, part 2 here and part 3 here.

pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x fem! oc (lucy everett)

warnings: assumed death, really bad coping mechanisms, crying, mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of smoking, angst with a happy ending

description: lucy gets a call.

a/n: i made the mistake of listening to sufjan stevens while writing this and nearly ended up sobbing like a small child so that was fun. anyways hope you enjoy the last part before the epilogue! i had so much fun writing this series (not really this last part but yk). also pls make sure to read the previous parts or else you will be VERY confused. OH and this isn't about the real people just the characters portrayed on screen!

Lucy felt herself float off again, the words in front of her were becoming blurry as tears started to pool in the edges of her eyes. She bit her lip, hard, in an effort to make them go away and tried to refocus.

The smell of coffee, ink and paper surrounded her at the desk she shared with Martin, one of the older correspondents who more or less hated her. It was a small mercy that he was off on assignment that afternoon; he wouldn’t be there to witness her complete breakdown.

She hadn’t cried since she got the news, instead she threw herself into writing and now it seemed like her body was done fighting the battle against grief as tears fell down her cheeks.

Lucy thought back to the horrifying phone call she had gotten in the middle of the night about a week ago, maybe longer. God, time was starting to blur.

The loud ringing of her phone pulled her out of a deep slumber, making Lucy stumble around until she finally lit the hallway light and got to the living room just in time to pick up the phone before the last ring.

“Hello?” She asked groggily, coughing slightly trying to clear her throat that was clearly thick with sleep.

“Lucy?” She perked up at the familiar sound of Harry’s voice.

“Yeah? Is everything alright, Harry? Is this about the travel arrangements for next week be-”

“It’s Rosie.” 

The tone in his voice made an ice cold chill run down the length of Lucy’s spine. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, to do something but she stood frozen as Harry’s voice sounded more and more muffled. The ringing in her ears intensified as she uttered some words in response to one of Harry’s questions and then clicked the phone back into the receiver.

She felt like a ghost from that moment on as she got back into bed and didn’t move until the sun started to shine through her window.

Sleep had evaded her grasp for the days after, the only thing that seemed to get her to finally rest was quite a few glasses of rather strong scotch.

Lucy wasn’t really sure she was actually at work at that moment. She was aware that she had written and delivered two articles in the past few days which according to her editor were some of her best work yet but she didn’t feel real.

There was a cold feeling encasing her body like a shroud, that knowing that she would most probably never see her darling Rosie again was chipping away at her soul.

Lucy knew she wasn’t the best at coping with grief, and there was a large possibility that Rosie was still alive. He had promised to come back to her after all, but she could never be sure. Not until she heard his voice, saw his ocean blue eyes and ran her hands through his curls.

She couldn’t believe that it was a month ago when she last saw him. When she last kissed him. When they last hugged. When- Lucy muffled a sob with the palm of her hand as she blurrily looked around the newsroom.

The feeling of complete desperation hadn’t gone away since she had heard those horrible words. Lucy had done what she had always done and threw herself into work but it felt different this time. It was like her other half was just gone. Void.

Lucy wiped off the tears that started to fall from her eyes and looked at the hand written pages of notes in front of her. A brief exhale later she started to gather them together into one not very neat pile and shoved them into a folder. 

She then briskly walked over to Johnson’s office, watching as her editor typed away at his typewriter - probably writing an angry letter to the promotional people that came in that morning. He still hadn’t gotten another assistant and now had to deal with typing things out himself.

“Hey. Is it alright if I leave a little early today? It’s rather slow today.” Lucy said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She could already feel the tears starting to pool in her eyes once again.

“Of course, Everett. Uh- are you alright?” Johnson said as he looked up for a moment and grimaced slightly.

“Oh yes. Of course. Just tired.”

“Right. Will you be alright by tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. It’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix.” Lucy knew that the only thing that could mend her broken heart at that moment was the news that Rosie was alive but her editor didn’t need to know that. Not when he literally fired his last assistant for just messing up his coffee order.

“Wonderful. See you tomorrow then, Everett. Good job this past week.”

“I try, sir. Thank you.” Lucy tried to smile slightly as Johnson looked at her for a moment before nodding and going back to angrily typing out something.

The streets of London were crowded and Lucy desperately tried to keep things together for just another fifteen minutes until she reached her flat. She kept getting jostled by passing strangers and annoyed mothers.

The only time she took a moment to stop and breathe was when she saw one of the many wreckages that the German bombs had caused. She thought she was desensitized to it all by now but it still made her heart ache whenever she saw the ruins of lives that could have been.

Rosie was one of the reasons why more German bombs weren’t dropped and Lucy just kept getting reminded of the man she so desperately loved. The world just wasn’t fair. It was like she saw his ghost everywhere.

Cold bed sheets welcomed her in when she finally collapsed into bed. The open bottle of scotch that sat on the bedside table burned her throat as she took a gulp of the burning liquid. 

Lucy also went to grab the pack of cigarettes she had swiped from Martin’s side of the desk that morning. She hadn’t smoked in a while and she knew that if Rosie saw her right now he would be disappointed. But he wasn’t there and that was part of the problem.

So Lucy lit up a cigarette and sat cocooned in bed until several hours later the sound of the phone ringing filtered through the flat. She laid still as it seemed to get louder and louder, taking drags of the stolen cigarette until the phone stopped ringing. 

The last time she had answered that damned thing, her entire world had stopped. Her irrational mind supplied her with the tortuous idea that the call would be to inform her this time that Rosie was no longer M.I.A. instead that he was K.I.A.

The phone rang again. And again. And again. Until Lucy had no other choice than to angrily stub out the end of the cigarette and walk over to the living room. Where with trembling hands she picked up the receiver and pressed the cool plastic to her ear.

“Lucille Everett speaking.” She answered cooly, clutching the cord with such intensity she could almost feel it penetrating her hand.

“Lucy? Darling? Are you there?” Lucy’s heart stopped for a moment and then restarted when she heard Rosie’s voice through the receiver. This couldn’t be real. She had to be dreaming. A strangled breath fought its way out of her throat as she dropped the phone back to the receiver.

A moment later the phone rang, and Lucy bit her lip as she traced the black cord. Her heart was thumping and she couldn’t believe that this was happening. She gingerly picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Rosie? Rosie? Are you real? Are you alive?” She whispered, not allowing herself to hope too much. This might just be some scotch induced delusion after all.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m here. A little banged up but I’m alive.” Lucy let out a relieved sob and collapsed onto the couch cushions.

“I thought- you promised you would make it back to me.”

“I did and I have. I would never leave you by choice, Lucy.” Lucy felt herself smiling slightly at Rosie’s familiar American accent. The fog slowly began to lift from her brain and she let herself to giggle slightly. Probably sounding completely insane but who cared? Her Rosie was alive.

“God. Rosie. I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.”

“Never do that to me again, you hear me Robert Rosenthal? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“I swear on the love I have for you, darling. I’m here, alright? I’m going to be here for the rest of our days.”

“I sure hope so because I’d rather not be marrying a ghost.” Lucy said as happy tears rolled down her cheeks, her laughter sounded foreign to her ears. It was a sound she hadn’t thought she would make again.

“I promise that when this is all over I will get that ring to you.”

“You better, my love.”

“Lucy! Lucy! There’s a call for you.” Lucy turned around from the celebrations and looked as Margaret passed her pointed at the phone hanging off the wall.

“Thanks. Can you hold my glass?” Margaret nodded as Lucy passed her the champagne glass she had been sipping prosecco out of. She could hardly believe that it was the end of the bloody war! When Churchill had announced it on the radio it felt like the weight of the world suddenly disappeared from her shoulders.

“Hello? Lucille Everett speaking.” Lucy said as she pressed the familiar weight of the phone to her ear.

“Lucy! Darling! Let’s get married.” Rosie said, clearly laughing - making Lucy's already joyful heart burst.

“I thought we were already doing that!”

“Yes, well…”

“Rosie. I want to marry you but you said you wanted me to meet your mother first, hmm?”

“Alright but we get married right after! And I just know she’s going to love you.”

“Well we have all the time in the world now, darling.”

“Yes, we do. Are you coming up here soon? I haven’t seen you in too damn long.”

“What have you been drinking, Major?”

“Lucy…”

“Alright! I’ll stop teasing. I’ll be there when Harry can find me a place to stay.”

“Croz!” Lucy pulled the phone away from her ear and shook her head at Rosie’s antics. She pressed it back and heard some muffled talking before a loud indignant yelp was heard.

“Hello Rosie’s sweetheart! I’m Bucky.” Lucy let out a laugh as she heard the voice of the man Rosie so admired.

“Hello there.”

“Oh she’s British! Why didn’t you tell us, Ro- hey!”

“Sorry about that, darling. He arrived last month and has only been causing too much trouble.”

“It’s alright, Rosie.” Lucy said with a laugh, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course. I cannot wait to marry you.”

“That makes two of us, I love you.”

“I love you more.” Lucy heard as various other men’s voices chimed in with ridiculous imitations of Rosie’s accent before the line clicked.

The world was suddenly theirs again and Lucy couldn’t wait for the rest of her life. A life she would share with Rosie.

i'm sorry??

taglist: @justheretoreadthxxs @callumsgirl

[emira-addams]

Hazbin Hotel - Carmilla x Rosie - Juliet and Juliet in Hell

Interlude: Ink-Stained Slumbers

Rosie sighed sorrowfully. Again and again, her restless gaze fled from the pages of her book and strayed across the lonely living room to the face of the grandfather clock. Its hands displayed an ungodly time well past midnight, while its heavy ticktocking reverberated unbearably through the darkness that reigned over the house.

The only other sound against the oppressive silence was the turning of the pages of the book, with only the characters from the story to keep Rosie company as she sat alone in the armchair in the living room, waiting for Carmilla to return home. Again, Carmilla hadn't been back home from work for dinner. This was the third time her dinner had gone cold in the fridge, Rosie kept count.

Rosie stifled an insistent yawn. Her patience was about to surrender to her desperate need for sleep.

A week ago, Odette had climbed through the living room window and for the past week, the Carmine house had been in a state of war. Every day for the past seven days, Clara had started setting her alarm clock two hours earlier so that she wouldn't accidentally get caught in the crossfire of the verbal battle between mother and daughter at breakfast. Even Zestial didn't want to voluntarily get caught in between the fronts and had canceled his and Carmilla's weekly tradition for leisurely tea parties. In the presence of Carmilla, Rosie avoided the word Velvette and any subject of the three Vees at all costs. For the last seven days now Odette was not allowed to leave the four walls of her room, except for food, and Carmilla spent long days at work, returning home late every time in the middle of the dark night and locking herself in her study with a pile of paperwork.

Rosie missed Carmilla's warmth under their shared sheets.

Her vision blurred again and again, Rosie blinked hard. Her eyelids threatened to fall shut as she desperately tried to refocus on the plot of her book, but the many words seemed empty to her fogged mind. Eventually the sentence structures disintegrated and the letters melted into a black mass, none of the original lines legible. The black splotches of ink slipped from the pages.

Exhausted from the effort of waiting, Rosie succumbed to her sleepiness. She closed her eyes a second too long and fell asleep sitting in the armchair.

The sound of the front door being opened with a squeak and falling shut with a thud startled Rosie out of her slumber. Drowsy, she heard Carmilla's quick footsteps in the hallway, the sharp clink of angelic steel on cold tiles bouncing back from the high walls. Before Rosie could fully regain her consciousness, she heard the opening and closing of the next door in the distance, the door to Carmilla's study.

"Oh, Milly..." Rosie sighed, her voice thick with sleep. She quickly placed a bookmark between the pages, closed her book and got up from the armchair. This time she would not allow Carmilla to bury herself and her feelings in tears and amidst thousands of towers of paperwork in the darkness of her study. Her beloved Carmilla had an awful habit of abusing her work as an escape in stressful situations, the fight with her daughter surely being one. Then she would spend all her waking hours working, the bleached pages her refuge until exhaustion will finally catch up with her. She would either fall asleep at her desk over her work or try to suppress the fatigue with copious amounts of caffeine until the next morning, when she would again leave the protective solitude of her study at dawn to disappear back to work, a vicious circle.

Rosie knocked gently on the hard wood of the door to Carmilla's study and waited.

No answer.

"Milly?" Rosie whispered worriedly, opening the door. "Oh, my poor Milly..." she gasped as she carefully entered the room. Her heart ached at the sight she found. With her head on her desk, Carmilla slept hunched over ink and paper. Her face was twisted into a grimace and she winced, nightmares evidently plaguing her sleep.

Rosie circled the maze of piles of paper. "Wake up, Milly..." she whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "My love, are you awake?" Rosie asked softly as Carmilla stirred and raised her head in surprise.

"R-Rosie? Where am I?" Voice hoarse with confusion, Carmilla looked around. Stray and sweaty strands of her snow-white hair hung in her pale face. Groaning, she rubbed her bloodshot eyes.

"At home in your study... You fell asleep over your paperwork," Rosie mumbled. She brushed the irritating strands of hair from her face. Carmilla looked so exhausted, so broken. Her sheer sight made her heart ache.

"Oh..." Carmilla looked at Rosie in surprise, then suddenly stood up from her desk. Her balance wavered precariously. "I really need some coffee..." She massaged her aching head, her whole body trembling.

"You really need some sleep," Rosie objected. "When was the last time you slept in a real bed?" Rosie knew the answer from Carmilla's silence, her lover could barely stand up straight. "Let's get you into bed, okay?"

Carmilla mutely agreed. Rosie gently wrapped her arm around Carmilla's waist and supported her stance. Without any resistance, her lover allowed herself to be dragged into the bedroom by Rosie.

"Sit down," Rosie ordered sternly. Carmilla dutifully perched on the edge of the bed while Rosie fished a fresh pair of pyjamas out of their closet for her. She quickly helped Carmilla change before gently pushing her onto the mattress and covering her up. "Please stay put... I'll be right back," Rosie promised. "I'll quickly make us a cup of tea to calm the nerves..." She pressed a gentle kiss on Carmilla's forehead, then disappeared towards the kitchen, humming some unnamed song.

The smell of freshly brewed chamomile tea filled the bedroom as Rosie entered the room and placed a tray on the bedside table. She quickly slipped under the covers with Carmilla. The cannibal pulled her lover into her arms and handed her her cup of tea as they leaned together against the headboard.

"Thank you." Carmilla kissed Rosie on the cheek. She slowly sipped her hot tea. The warmth crept into her bones, draining the tension from her whole body as Rosie's soft hand crept under her clothes and traced their gentle circles on her back.

Carmilla blinked sleepily, eyeing Rosie up and down skeptically. "Tell me, are you wearing one of my pyjamas?" Carmilla wondered in her utterly weary state.

"Can you blame me?" Rosie shrugged her shoulders. "I've missed your warmth under the sheets all week, your embrace and your sweet scent. You've been too busy with your work to come into bed with me..."

Carmilla cleared her throat. Her ashamed gaze fled into her cup, trying in vain to drown itself in the chamomile tea, avoiding Rosie's. "I'm really sorry..." she whispered.

"I know, Milly..." Rosie cupped her cheeks and locked their eyes into a soft stare. "But there's nothing to apologize for. I'm here, with you, and we'll deal with everything else together when you feel better. All I want is for you to talk to me. Please talk to me, Milly, will you?"

"Yes…" Silent drops of tears crept down Carmilla's cheeks as Rosie's tender fingertips ran gently over her cheekbones and she wiped away her tears again and again. Her hand drew caressing circles over Carmilla's back. Up and down her spine and back and forth between her shoulder blades. "I love you so much," Carmilla murmured half-asleep as Rosie pulled her further into her arms.

"I love you too, Milly, but now you need to try to get some sleep," Rosie whispered as she took the empty cup from Carmilla and placed it back on the tray.

Carmilla stifled a yawn. Exhaustion causing her eyelids to flutter and the last sight before sleep overtook her and she succumbed to a sound slumber was Rosie's loving smile.

"Please," Carmilla begged. Her shallow voice nothing the less than a soft whisper. "Don't let me go."

Rosie shook her head. She brushed strands of Carmilla's snow-white hair from her face affectionately. "I'll stay awake and by your side until the end of the night. Now get some rest, my love."

Chapter 06:

[snorky]

As My Broken Heart Falls To My Feet, You Picked Up The Pieces Having Never Hurt Me Anyway

Hey y’all! I hope you all are having a wonderful and blessed holiday season, and if not, I offer some comfort. Mason Lohrei comfort, sweet like hot cocoa, for the bitter winter air. I haven’t been all in the best spirits recently, but I offer you angels with something special. For those who have studied long and hard for school, or those who seek warmth, here is a story I hope you all enjoy. Take care of yourself!

Pairing: Mason Lohrei x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Toxic Relationship (not with Mason), Angst, Stressed Reader, Infidelity/being cheated on (not by Mason), Drinking/Alcohol consumption (of legal age) (let me know if I need to add anything)

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—

As the finals and midterms approached, the sense of being a false being, an impostor, filled her to the brim. She wanted to have knowledge, the desire to learn and know more, but there was only so much she could cram in before the next week.

A message buzzed on her phone, once or twice, bringing her back to the suffocating dorm room where she sat at her desk, notes and textbooks and pens sprawled everywhere.

When she looked, on the screen was a message from her significant other, who she felt was too overbearing, poisonous.

Nausea flooded her senses, the world seemingly swaying around her, spinning. Her stomach churned, heart sank, but then it all came to a halt. Taking a breath in, her fingers carefully sent out a response, praying to some higher power that it wouldn’t aggravate him further.

He saw her message no later than a few seconds, and sent a reply back just as quick.

After she responded, she set her phone down, forcing herself to refocus on the information of notes and diagrams in front of her, ignoring the outside world.

But again, her phone buzzed, almost angrily, forcing her attention back towards her phone. She didn’t have to look twice to know who it was, her heart kept its guard up well.

Her head swirled in loss, unable to come up with an answer that would satisfy the both of them. There was no solid answer, someone had to be disappointed.

Every time she went to his place, she left feeling just as empty as she came. All take, no give, and she felt like she no longer had anything to give. Her purpose seemed like a lost cause, drifting around on the Earth, seeking for something to fulfill her meaning.

His words cut through her like a shard of glass, broken from a cup. Common, all too familiar, and yet it hurts every time.

She set her phone down and gathered her notes into her bag, seeking a quick escape to the campus library, alone. No phone, no distraction. It was her safe space, and she'd be damned if it was occupied by someone that made her feel like she had to walk on eggshells.

The walk to the library was short, brisk, the cold evening air more apparent with each passing day. It was crowded, common for this time of year when each student suddenly discovered what a library was.

Luck was on her side as she found a seat near the back, empty and unoccupied. Quickly, she made her way through the mass of people crowding around the large tables, and took a seat at the smaller table.

As she reorganized her notes and books, she started to feel more at ease, at calm. All the information seemed to flow smoothly, easily in her mind, all the equations and diagrams making more sense than ever.

“Oh hey! It’s you!”

She looked up, searching for the voice, and her eyes were met with a familiar face from her analytics class. He was always cheery and energetic, a smile on his face paired with his rosy cheeks seemingly every day, a breath of fresh air from her hectic life.

“Oh, hi Mason.” A soft smile appeared on her face. “What’s up?”

His hands were stuck into the pockets of his jacket, emblem of the school’s hockey team embroidered proudly on the upper left of his jacket. “I’m bored, but I also need your help studying for the exams.”

Observing his face, she knew he was an honest man, no lie weaved in his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I know you’re smart,” he stated with a smile.

She let out a gentle laugh at his words, warning herself not to take it to heart since she was, well, afraid of not meeting his expectations.

“I try, but that’s how it is sometimes,” she sighed. “Come sit, you’re welcome to if you want.” Her hand gestured towards the chair across from her, in which Mason set his bag down beside him as he sat in the chair.

He thanked her as he started to unpack his own notes, careful to not overtake the table. As he started to work on revising and studying his notes, he became stuck, evident in the confusion on his face and his furrowed brows.

She took note of this and tried to help him. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head slightly, he set the paper down between the both of them so that she could see the problem.

“How does this like, work?” He pointed towards a question written at the top of the page.

Looking at the paper, she saw a graph with several data points all clustered together in a pattern, as well as an equation written beside it, most likely representing how the data should be represented.

“So the equation represents how the data should show up over a given set of time, and you should first pick two points from the cluster to figure out the predicted trajectory of the data,”

He nodded his head, slowly starting to understand where he should go from there. She watched him as he scrawled down some numbers, using the equation to compare his results.

“Oh, just be careful, the data can switch up if you consider any external factors that might affect the data collected,” she added.

  A smile formed on his face once he got the hang of it, the numbers and words making sense. “Thank you, a lot actually,” he chuckled. “I’ve been stuck on this for a day or two.”

Smiling at him, pride swelling in her heart, she spoke. “My pleasure, Mason. You’re always welcome to reach out to me ya’know? You have my email,”

“Mhm, sorry.” He let out a small laugh as he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I just don’t use email often, I’d prefer to text you if that’s okay,”

She nodded in understanding and scrawled down her number on a post-it note, adding a small smiley face in the corner before she handed it to him.

He took the note and smiled at the little drawing, before putting the slip of paper in his pocket. “Thank you,”

Giving him a small smile, she returned her focus back to her own work, calculus problems to prepare herself for the upcoming exams.

They both worked in silence separately, and yet in each other’s presence. It was comforting, the sense of companionship.

Warm, inviting, it was all amazing, and all felt good. 

Time flowed by like honey, slow and sweet, and it became late at the time it should’ve, and yet she didn’t want to go. The library was almost empty, few students still remaining.

He looked up at her, not wanting to leave either despite the late time. “Do you mind if we study together again?” His eyes were filled with a look of pure sweetness, a smile just as delicate. “I learned a lot from you, and I think that I’d learn more the next time,”

She smiled back, just as sweetly and twice more. “Of course, my pleasure, Mason.”

“Tomorrow?” A twinge of hope was interwoven in his voice.

“Tomorrow.” She nodded.

The look on his face could only be described as pure in her eyes, the look you’d see on a child holding their favorite stuffed animal, knowing that they’d carry it long into their adult years, never forgotten.

As they packed their bags and parted ways, they looked back at one another, still smiling.

She walked back towards her dorm, the night now dark, and only illuminated by the street lamps. The winter chill crept up on her, only making her move faster towards her destination.

When she opened the door to her dorm, her roommate, her best friend, stood in front of her, a rather concerned look etched on her face.

“Where have you been? Your boyfriend seems pretty angry and has been blowing up your phone,” she said nervously, an awkward grin on her face.

Her stomach sunk, a pit that her heart seemed to fall into. “Shucks, I guess I forgot my phone.” A lie, but it was necessary.

“Good luck, I’m here if you need anything.” Her friend saluted her, in which she saluted back as she grabbed her phone off of her desk.

Text after text was displayed on her phone, each message getting more furious after the previous one. 

Carefully, she responded, with as much love and care and forgiveness as a saint would, despite her soul being marred and tainted with fear and doubt.

A few seconds after she sent the text, he called her. Her stomach sunk once more, her skin growing cold and clammy. The phone buzzed in her hand, sounding like a swarm of hornets hurling at her.

As she picked up the call, she anticipated his shouts, filled with wrath and anger, lashing out at her.

And so there was, his rough, gritted voice echoing through the phone, yelling some sort of rhetorical question about her whereabouts, hypocritical when she asked about his evening.

Shortly after, he hung up on her, allowing the silence to sound the other line. Her friend walked back into the dorm room, arms open in sympathy, which she took in the offer for.

“Listen, I’m not telling you what to do, but I think it’s best you drop him,”

She looked up at her friend, not in anger, but in saddened understanding. It was too evident that she was constantly being hurt, being deteriorated by his behavior.

“Just not right now, one day,”

Her friend nodded in understanding and walked back to her bunk while she stood there, thinking. It was a major step, maybe in the right direction, maybe in the wrong, but her foot wasn’t yet planted in the ground.

Nights passed, and it became the day, or rather night before her first exam. Empty disposable cups that were previously filled to the brim with tea were littered all over her desk, her notes scattered around, pens and pencils and highlighters sprawled out.

Her friends were in the library studying together since they had the same classes, as well as a final presentation and paper due, and so it was just her in the shared dorm, alone with the silence.

She had confidence in herself, that she’d do well, maybe even surpass her expectations, but there was some sort of lingering doubt. 

Perhaps that doubt was reinforced by the fact that her significant other barely reached out to her at a time when she needed reassurance. Or maybe how he barely checked in on her, despite her checking in on him.

Tears sat on the edge of her eyes, her vision blurring slightly as she wiped them away, attempting to turn her focus to her work. 

She wanted, desired, a future where she was at peace. Where she could come home smiling, where she would live without fear of disappointing or angering. What she wanted was to get herself back.

As she began to refocus herself on her work, fueled by some fury to be better, the stress seemed to watch her from afar, but not far enough. It was a false ideology to believe that she was okay at the moment, but nothing felt better than masking it for a little while.

Knocking came from her door, which was odd when she considered that her friends told her that they would be back by nine, not seven. She also considered the fact that her friends would most likely have their keys on them.

Getting up from her chair, she walked to the door, confused.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” A familiar voice responded. “It’s me, Mason, from your analytics class.”

She opened the door, revealing him standing there, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a bag of fancy chocolates in the other. His smile seemed extra sweet, sweeter than it normally was, and his face was flushed with a soft pink tint.

“These are for you,” he said, his voice tender and soft.

Her hand came up to her mouth slightly, attempting to cover up the fact that she was beyond awe at what he had brought to her.

“Mason, what—”

Mason quickly became more flustered, embarrassed by the fact that her reaction was a little different from what he’d expected. “I’m sorry if you don’t like them—”

“No no,” she interjected, walking closer towards him, her fingers lightly grazing the petals of the flower. “They’re gorgeous, Mason.”

His smile came back again, beaming with delight as she took the bouquet from his arms. “Thank you,” he said bashfully. “And I got you some chocolates as well, you deserve some after working really hard on studying.”

Her eyes lit up as she noticed it was her favorite, and she looked up at him. “How’d you know?”

“On the first few days of the lectures, you gave everyone around you chocolate,” he chuckled sweetly, his laugh smooth like honey. “You then turned to your friend stating that these were your favorites.”

She blushed, acknowledging how he was attentive to the little things, as well as the gesture of it.

Looking down at the flowers in her arms, she smiled, but not yet understanding why he gave them to her. “And the flowers?”

“A little birdie told me you were not doing so well, and so I thought you might want something that’d maybe cheer you up,”

He smiled more at the sound of her slight laugh at his response, but he could tell that the look in her eyes seemed heartbroken.

“Thank you, Mason,” her voice broke a little. “It means a lot during around this time, ya’know, finals and stuff,”

His face expressed slight worry and concern at the sound of her voice, not sounding as happy as she seemed. “My pleasure, but may I ask you what’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, suddenly vulnerable and scared, but she trusted him. “Just a crappy personal life, that’s all,” she laughed bitterly.

Nodding his head, he hummed in understanding. “I’m here if you need anything, I can assure you that you saved my butt for that analytics class.” He let out a laugh, in which she laughed as well. “Pretty sure I would fail my exam tomorrow if you hadn’t helped me,”

At this point, she finally snapped, the storm of tears flowing down her face rapidly as she sobbed. 

No one had ever thanked her so purely just for helping them. No one had been so kind and sweet to her besides her friends and roommates. Not even her significant other had cared for her this much in a time where she needed it.

“What’s wrong, are you alright?” He quickly took a step closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she cried into his chest.

“M’sorry Mason but—” She hiccuped, “I just really appreciate you caring for me like this.”

His hand gently stroked her upper back in a soothing motion as he hushed her, hoping that she’d be comfortable around him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m really proud of you, alright?”

The kind words fell from his lips so sweetly that she cried even harder, knowing that even her significant other hadn’t said anything reassuring in nature to her.

“Mason, I’m sorry but, not even my boyfriend did anything like this for me.” She continued to cry in his embrace, grateful that no one was watching as he walked them both further into the room, closing the door behind him.

His stomach dropped, not for the fact that she had a boyfriend, but for the fact that her boyfriend, someone who was supposed to be kind and caring towards her, couldn’t even do the bare minimum.

“It’s not your fault. You deserve everything, alright?”

She nodded her head, still wrapped in his arms, and her breaths slowly began to become more steady as time passed.

Her friends came back not too much later, smiling and giggling to each other as they saw her wrapped in Mason’s arms when they walked into the room, the both of them asleep in an awkward position, sitting on the floor. 

When she woke up the next morning to her alarm going off, she was in her bed, tucked in warmly with little to no memory of how she ended up there. Looking over on the bedside table, she saw the familiar bouquet of flowers with the chocolate from Mason last night, but also a sticky note.

Reading the note, she smiled to herself from the thoughtful message that Mason wrote before he left, with a little smiley face in the corner.

He was always so sweet and attentive to small details, making him all the more perfect. But she knew it would be wrong to think of him as anything more than a friend. Just because her significant other couldn’t take care of her doesn’t mean that she could seek out some sort of comfort. Or at least, that’s what went through in her mind.

But the final and midterm exams came and went, and her stress seemed to slowly let go of the grasp it had on her.

She laughed more, smiled more, and got herself back, with one less thing stressing her out. Her friends invited her out for some drinks and food to celebrate, specifically at a bar-and-grill nearby campus.

“Jeez, it’s cold tonight,” her friend shivered, her hands wrapped around herself.

“Dunno why you didn’t want to bring a jacket then,” another friend said, looking over at her. “The right jacket won’t ruin a cute outfit.”

They approached the bar, the sound of nostalgic Christmas music seemed to flow from the open doors, laughter and the clinking of glass from toasts and celebrations interweaved within.

When they all settled down at a table, neatly tucked into one of the dimmer corners of the place, they placed their orders, in which they all settled on some appetizers. The drinks they ordered came by shortly, multiple glasses of varying shapes and sizes, colors and flavors since they decided to treat themselves.

“Cheers!” Her friend said, holding up her raspberry daiquiri in the air. “Cheers to a new semester of learning!”

They all clinked their drinks together, smiles plastered on their faces in pure happiness. Jokes and banter were shared, their laughter filling the air like fluff, and conversations that seemed so natural.

As they were all enjoying the night, her phone buzzed, and the unsettling feeling crept up on her again.

Looking at the text that appeared on the screen of her phone, she couldn’t tell whether or not she should cry, or laugh. Her significant other was no longer significant it seemed, having admitted to being unfaithful, having admitted to being what she thought he wasn’t.

She laughed, drawing the focus and attention to her at the table as she held her face with one hand, holding her phone with the other. The mix of alcohol in her system didn’t seem to make it all clearer.

“What happened? What’s so funny?”

“He did it,” she paused. “He actually did it.”

All of her friends looked at her in confusion, unaware of the turmoil that boiled within her. She slid her phone to her friends, showing them the messages that he sent to her, the confession of his infidelity. Their faces all turned to shock, jaw-dropped and mouths agape.

One of her friends set their hand on her shoulder gently, “Oh my gosh, are you alright?”

She smiled back at them, almost wrongly for the situation at hand. “I am now, he’s no longer mine.”

As she sent her final text to him, a formal message of separation, she put her phone in her bag, and picked up her drink.

“Cheers to everlasting happiness!”

They all arose in celebrations, toasts, cheers, smiles and all the sorts, fireworks almost sparkling in the air. It was a new start, but especially for her. The world seemed more vibrant now, the fuzzy soft glow of the bar lights making everything all the more ethereal, and it reminded her of Mason.

She smiled as she thought of him, his soft lips that smiled so sweetly and only spoke kindly, his bright eyes when he was passionate, and his laugh that was so contagious.

“Jeez, is it the alcohol that is making you all flustered or is there something else?” Her friend laughed.

“I think she’s thinking about her prince charming,”

“Speak of the devil—”

When she looked up from her drink, her eyes met Mason looking right at her, a smile appearing on his face as he saw her. It seemed as if her prayers were answered by some higher power.

Her blushed face became more blushed, hot on her skin, and her world seemed to become a fuzzy blurry madness. His own face seemed to light up at the sight of her, cheeks beautifully rosy, even in the dim lighting.

She looked back at her friends, their smiles softly encouraging her, beaming with bright pride for her success, and then she wandered off towards the direction of him, his warmth lulling her in. 

As she approached him, he seemed all the more soft, no sharp edges or harsh words. He was an angel, more beautiful than ever now.

“Oh, hey you,” he said softly.

She couldn’t necessarily hear him, especially over the loud music, but she read his lips as if it were the first language she ever learned.

“Hi, Mason.” Her lips were upturned in a dopey smile,

He observed her with soft eyes, admiring her seemingly endlessly, her beauty holding him in a trance.

“Are you okay?” he asked with genuineness. “You don’t normally like to drink and go out like this,”

A soft, saddened look seemed to take over her face, her heart searching for why he was so concerned. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean it in a rude way, it’s just that you—” His pause made him feel confused at his own words as well, not knowing why he was so worried about her. “I want you to be safe, and I know you’re with your friends, but I just want to be sure,”

She smiled at his sweetness, a familiar pattern now that he seemed to always be the one making her smile. “It’s okay, I’m safe,” she assured him. “I’m single now, he doesn’t have me anymore.” 

He stood there, frozen in shock at her suddenness, unexpecting the reason behind her energy being more outward and extroverted.

“Oh—” He paused, not knowing what to say. “Are you alright?”

“Better than ever.” She gave him another soft smile as she tried to move back to her friends, waiting at the table for her, but Mason’s hand gently grasped hers.

“Please stay with me, we can go get some food, another place more quiet, just me and you.” His eyes twinkled with a newfound magic, like little sparklers on New Year’s Eve.

She nodded as a response, her face more flushed than ever with the alcohol in her system, tipsy and woozy. “I’ll go tell my friends, I don’t wanna scare ‘em,”

As she went to tell her friends, he let his own friends know about his whereabouts before he followed behind her, making sure that she’s okay. She quickly pulled out a twenty dollar bill to cover her own drinks and foods’ expenses, setting it down on the table where her friends were.

“M’kay, let’s go,” she said, holding Mason’s hand as she led them both out of the stuffy, noisy bar. He nodded, following her without complaint, happy to see her energetic and lively.

The fresh air was cold and sharp against their skin, making her shiver slightly as it was colder than before when she arrived at the bar. Mason took quick note of this and shrugged off his jacket, placing it over her shoulders.

She looked up at him, a soft, gentle look in her eyes that made him melt into a blush. “Thank you,” she whispered, her breath visible in the air.

“My pleasure,”

They both continued walking down the street, fingers intertwined with each other’s hand, the snow falling down like petals from a flower, flurrying around the both of them like magic in the air. It crunched beneath their feet, the sound familiar to the winter for the both of them. 

The light from the lamp post shone delicately, fuzzily on their figures as they walked down the street, the sound of Christmas music flowing out of a nearby restaurant. 

She gave a gentle tug on Mason’s hand, looking up at him with wonder in her eyes. It was a newfound magic, to see her so happy, so free from her stress it seemed.

“Dance with me,”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He gently held her hand in his, the warmth between their palms being shared, and placed a hand on her back, pulling her closer to him, which in turn erupted a soft giggle from her.

They twirled around together, laughing, smiling more than ever. She’d never felt so free before, so unbound to any restriction in her life. His heart seemed to grow at the sight of her, free from the weight on her shoulders, and how she seemed to be more heavenly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed.

Her cheeks became more red, a lovely concoction of being enamored, slightly tipsy, as well as the cold air. “You are too, Mason.” She paused for a brief moment, admiring his features, his gorgeous eyes, lips, all that he had. “You’re so lovely,”

Their night was spent full of laughter, sweetness, the sort of things she could only ever dream of, and here it was, a reality. It was a new start for her, a fresh, clean start for her life, a new chapter, new beginnings.

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 6

Still reeling from finding out the truth herself, Lena suddenly finds herself in the midst of an odd role reversal in which she knows that Kara is Supergirl, but Kara no longer has any idea she has ever been more than an ordinary human. And what’s more, Lena has no choice but to keep the truth from her for her own protection…

Rift era reconciliation/fix-it fic, starts out kind of on the angsty side but there will be more fluff down the line.

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

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It was a few more days before Lena was able to get her feelings in check enough to actually make good on her promise to get in touch with Kara.

She had tried once or twice, but backed out before hitting the call button each time. She told herself that it was because she needed to focus on a particularly problematic detail of the scanner adaptation, or that Kara needed time to settle back into her life after her kidnap at Lex’s hands (which was traumatic even without her knowing what he’d done to her mind while he had her in his power), or that she had an important board meeting that she really couldn’t postpone.

None of the reasons she came up with were wrong exactly, but they were all just excuses, and deep down Lena knew it. The truth was that every time she looked at Kara’s name in her phone and thought about calling, her feelings rose up in a surge strong enough to drown her and she simply couldn’t bring herself do it. Sometimes when the hurt and betrayal were threatening to engulf her altogether she was almost convinced that she should just give up the project entirely. She had allowed herself to get swept along by Alex’s apology and the desire to solve the mystery of what Lex had done, but after all, why should she want to try and help someone who could do what Kara had done to her? Maybe she really did deserve this.

Maybe they both did.

That train of thought inevitably sent her down a spiral of reflecting on every other person who had broken her trust throughout her life going right back to her mother, who, whether she had meant to or not, had left Lena alone to be raised by the Luthors, of all people. She would wonder what it was about her that made her so discard-able, and then in the depths of self pitying despair and unable to see her way out, Lena would decide that there were no truly good or trustworthy people in the world, and maybe she would be better off adapting the Q-wave scanner into something that could fix all of humanity, not just one Kryptonian. Surely if she could just make it so that no one would want to hurt anyone else anymore, or lie, or kill, that would be better for the world than simply restoring Supergirl to Kara. It would be for the greater good…

The possibility of it would feel so close at times that she could almost pull back the curtain of reality and step through into a world where she had chosen that route.

But then she would get a call from Alex about a new line of investigation they could try, or from Brainy about some technical detail for the scanner adaptation, or she’d simply draw back her curtains to find that morning had broken; and the rosy fingers of dawn would smudge the shadowed thoughts that had plagued her sleepless night just enough that she could sweep them to the side and refocus on her goal to undo what Lex had done.

That at least, she could be sure was the right thing. Her brother's moral compass was so distorted at this point that as long as she was doing the exact opposite of whatever he was doing, she wouldn’t be going too far wrong.

And Lex had taken Kara’s Kryptonian memories.

So Lena was going to get them back.

Simple. Clean. Logical.

Her resolve was not too difficult to maintain as long as she was focusing on the technical aspects of her work with the Q-wave generator. It was an intellectual challenge, which Lena enjoyed, and it allowed her to keep Kara firmly within the bounds of the mental box she had created for her.

She was clinical trial subject 01.

A handful of scans and blood test results.

Numbers. Read outs. A set of variables to be controlled and measured.

Safe and familiar, the outcomes predictable if you knew what you were doing.

But that couldn’t last forever, and the closer she came to the moment when reaching out could be put off no longer, the harder it was to ignore the fact that this was also… well… Kara.

Kara, the best friend Lena Luthor had ever had.

Kara, the woman who had briefly made her believe that she was worthy of better after a lifetime of being used, manipulated and let down, and whom Lena would gladly have killed or died to protect.

Kara, who had held Lena’s heart between her cupped palms like a newly hatched chick, seen every raw, vulnerable part of her, and had still taken that small, fragile thing and ripped it to shreds, crushing it down into an unrecognisable pulp of broken trust.

The cognitive dissonance of it made Lena’s head pound, and the only way to square it all away was to accept that none of the first part had been real. Kara – Supergirl – had seen the advantages of befriending a Luthor and had simply been using her all these years. For her inside knowledge about her family’s criminal elements. For her technical and scientific skills. For her connections, both business and personal. Lena had been a useful asset, maybe even an ally, but Supergirl had never really been her friend. It had been naive of Lena to believe anything different, and she wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

She knew where they stood now, and that was on opposite sides of an indelible line that would never wash away no matter how many crocodile tears Supergirl wept to try and convince her otherwise. But it didn’t matter. She might not be the sweet, generous, open-hearted woman that Lena had fallen in l-

That Lena had once cared for- but Supergirl was objectively a force for good in the world, and restoring her powers would doubtless save countless people in the long run, even if Lena wasn’t one of them.

She had gone round this tired argument a dozen times in a dozen ways over the past few days, and once again arrived at the conclusion that what all of this boiled down to was, unavoidably, that she needed to get Kara Danvers into her Q-wave machine before she could draw a line under this whole mess and move on. Which meant that the two of them needed to be close enough that Lena could create a plausible excuse for asking Kara to be her test subject when it was trial-ready in a few weeks time…

...Which of course meant that she really had to start putting as much thought into rebuilding some kind of relationship with Kara as she was into fixing her brain.

Lena sighed, and opened her contacts yet again.

She barely had to glance at the list to know when she reached the right name – her finger had made this journey often enough that it knew exactly where to stop. Even when she had deleted the number altogether, her scrolling had always hit a little stutter-step of confusion when she passed through the Ks and discovered Kai Chalmers right next to Kelly Olsen, as if her fingers hadn’t caught up to the fact that, no, they were not going to find Kara this time either.

Only now she was back in place, and Lena wished that the sight of those 11 letters in that particular order didn’t still have the power to stir up such a hornets nest of emotions inside her every single time she looked at them.

It was ridiculous.

Embarrassing.

She just had to stop dithering and get on with it.

Be a goddamn Luthor.

She slid her thumb over the screen to tap, and yet once again at the last second she found her hand flinching instinctively away, as if she had been trying to force it to press against a lit stovetop and not a small green phone icon.

Fuck it.

She would send Kara a text.

Texts were less pressure, and it would be easier to face words on a screen than to hear Kara’s voice speaking directly into her ear. Besides, it would give her time to compose her responses to any unexpected questions, given that she didn’t know what sort of false memories Kara had come up with to fill the gaps left by Supergirl. It would help her to maintain her cover.

And Kara wouldn’t be able to tell if Lena’s voice was shaking.

She tapped her nails against her desk, trying to find the right words.

Lena: Hi Kara, I was thinking about you and I wondered if you wanted to get that lunch we talked about?

Delete

Lena: Hey, Kara! It’s been forever. Shall we do lunch?

Delete

Lena: I miss you, do you want to

Delete

In the end she gave up and sent the text with a single word:

Lena: Lunch?

Before she even had a chance to put the phone down, Kara’s reply popped up on her screen

Kara: Definitely! See you at 1pm at our usual place?

Lena: Looking forward to it

Okay, so she was really doing this. Lunch with Kara.

It was fine. It was going to be fine.

Lena had lunch with people all the time. She was brilliant at lunch, just ask all the many clients who had been sweet talked into favourable contract terms over lobster bisque and tiramisu. This would be no different.

Still, she spent longer than was strictly necessary deciding on what to wear and how she should do her hair and makeup. She was trying for a look that said ‘hi it’s me, your best friend here for a totally casual no big deal lunch’ but also ‘I know we have a history (that definitely doesn’t involve me finding out that you are a secret superhero who betrayed me every day of our friendship for years) that is still something we need to work through, and I am here to get started on that’, and maybe even ‘please trust me to mess about with your brain in a few weeks time without actually being able to explain why’.

It was, admittedly, a lot to ask of a blouse and pants.

A dress though – a dress could definitely handle it. A green one, because green was a friendly, calming colour. But a red lipstick, because she needed the boost of confidence.

She met her own eyes in the mirror and took a deep breath.

She could do this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Kara! Hi, it’s so good to see you!’

Almost from the beginning Kara had been free with physical affection, and Lena had been bracing herself for the hello hug from the moment she’d stepped into the restaurant. She was a bit disconcerted therefore when she reached Kara’s table and instead of an embrace she was met with nothing more than a smile and an awkward little wave. Maybe in spite of her enthusiastic acceptance of this lunch, Kara was not quite as over their fight as she wanted Lena to think, although she sounded normal enough when she returned her greeting.

‘Hey Lena, you too, thank you so much for suggesting this! How have you been?’

Kara was looking up at her with a warm smile, like she really wanted to know the answer, her head tilted a little to one side as she waited for Lena’s response. And just like that she was stepping back in time, to the days when this was real and they had shared everything...

Everything?

No. That had never been real, and nor was this. It was just another business meeting. Kara was a client – a stakeholder in this project, even if she didn’t know it.

Lena could charm stakeholders in her sleep.

She allowed herself a slow, steadying breath, and then slipped smoothly into the comforting familiarity of her important-client small talk spiel for a minute or two, keeping the conversation on carefully neutral ground while she regained her equilibrium.

A little about one of the less confidential projects she was working on at L-Corp at the moment. A mildly amusing anecdote about a raccoon she had seen drinking from a Starbucks cup on her way to the office (it had been a month ago, but Lena saved such stories up to trot out when she needed them, and this one worked a treat on Kara). A joke about inner city traffic.

By the time she had worked her way through her little store of opening chit chat, she felt steady enough to take a step towards where she needed them to get to and ask something more personal in return.

‘But that’s enough of my going on, I want to know about you. How have you been since you got back? I’m so glad nothing worse happened to you, but it must have been terrifying’.

Kara fiddled with the edge of her menu, the brightness of her smile dimming a little at the reminder of her recent ordeal.

‘It is pretty weird knowing I was kidnapped. It’s kind of scary in a way, but I also don’t actually remember any of it, which is weird in a whole different way. Like, one minute I was just living my life totally as normal, and the next I was waking up in this top secret government agency’s hospital ward with Alex clinging to my hand like I might slip away from her if she didn’t hold on tight enough and all these bright lights shining in my face. It was… an experience. I kind of wish they’d taken me to a regular hospital instead, just so it felt like slightly less of a huge thing; but Alex always insists that private DEO medical treatment is a family perk of her job, and, well, it is pretty awesome not having to worry about dealing with insurance or co-pay or anything’.

Here Kara broke off and rolled her eyes, looking more like someone talking about their excessively chatty co-worker than their recovery from a recent kidnap.

‘The downside is that Alex is way over protective. Since I couldn’t remember any of it she said they must have kept me unconscious the entire time, and she made me do a whole bunch of tests to check for cognitive deficits; including asking about what felt like every person I had ever met since junior high, and doing some foreign language comprehension that I pointed out to her I couldn’t have done reliably even before taking a week long nap. Between that and all the scans and physical checks she wanted to do, it took hours’.

Lena nodded in a way she hoped came across as sympathetic, but didn’t comment. Alex had apparently done a good job disguising her probes about the extent of Lex’s meddling as standard post-coma faculty checks, and it was clear that Kara didn’t suspect anything amiss.

‘Did Alex know who was behind it?’

‘Yeah, some gang smuggling alien tech. They thought if they took the Director’s sister as a hostage it would get the DEO to back off, but of course Alex is awesome and tracked them down. She said they never planned to hurt me, just keep me there until they’d got their gear over the border’.

So, Alex hadn’t told Kara the truth about Lex. Lena was well aware that this was probably more to avoid any possibility of Kara getting back to what had actually happened than to make life easier for her, but she was grateful all the same that she wasn’t going to have to deal with Kara knowing her brother was the one to take her hostage. It would be too much, too soon, and she couldn’t bear the Luthor Look that would be bound to have followed on from the revelation.

‘I’m really glad Alex found you’.

Kara flashed another of her lovely, confusing Kara-smiles, and Lena had to look away as her heart twisted painfully.

‘Thanks, me too. Anyway, they were able to round up all the gang members and they’re in prison now, so I guess that’s that. I almost wish I had a more exciting kidnap story to tell you, honestly’.

It was obviously meant to be a joke, but knowing what had actually happened to her, Lena found she couldn’t take it as one. With the reflexes of old habit, she reached out to cover Kara’s hand on the table.

‘Hey, don’t say that. I’m glad you don’t have a better story’.

To her surprise, Kara snatched her hand back from Lena’s as if the contact had burned her, and tucked it beneath the table top. Lena was left with her own hand outstretched, her mind taking a moment to catch up with what had just happened, before she diverted the movement into reaching for the jug of water in the middle of the table and pouring herself a glass.

It wasn’t that she wanted to touch Kara, it was just… unexpected. She wondered again what their fight had been about in Kara’s mind, and whether this new wariness would get in the way of helping her regain her memories and powers.

However, after that one sticky moment they turned the conversation onto lighter topics, and Lena found she was able to go through the motions of talking and eating without feeling like she might choke on her salad. By the time they had finished their entrées and were weighing up the merits of dessert, they had managed to tentatively feel their way back to an approximation of the way they had used to talk to each other.

There were even one or two moments when, for the space of a few heartbeats and against her better judgement, Lena almost forgot that it was all just pretend.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I do but they were sunk to the bottom of whatever the fuck tumblr did with my blogs.

Jack was first. The first Pākehā, or New Zealanders of European extraction, trickled into New Zealand in the very late 18th and very, very early 19th century. Ships boys were recruited as young as aged five and most of the early Pākehā lived with Māori were either shipwrecked sailors or awol convicts and Jack was kind of both. The first round of the Napoleonic wars were in full swing, and while France thought about invading the impoverished little convict dumping ground, it never came to fruition. The refocus of British military resources from the empire to the deference of the home islands saw something of a slump which also drove people to take to the sea. It was a popular choice for unwanted sons, perhaps seeking anything more than their daily misery and their imaginations full of swashbuckling stories giving them a solution. With Brighid gone, Arthur’s general indifference and little care from whomever was in charge of him, Jack fled a flogging and eventually rolled out out of a ships hold onto a wet, rainy island so green he thought for a moment he’d somehow find Brighid on an emerald isle she’d once described.

The first democratic aspect of life in early Australia was hunger, and it was barefoot, sea-sick, half starved and with the scars of at least a few careless crop marks on his back for disobedience or 'laziness' that Jack first found himself face to face with who would be the the most important person he would ever meet. He was the crest of the wave of imperial misery, created from an idea of human suffering that would see few parallels. It marked him head to heel. She was small, round, still a little unsteady on little legs but bright eyed, the plague of empire not on her doorstep just yet. Her name was Aroha. He would call her Rosie. On a windswept cliff in the far north of New Zealand, in the place where the Maori believe their final journeys begin, the pohutukawa grows.

That’s where they met. He had never seen a rose, only knew that they were red flowers that important people wore. They were a symbol of the powerful and he wouldn't find the words for many years, but he knew that he would never know anyone who could be more important to him. It's something he will repeat throughout their lives, Jack running, running, running, always running. But somehow always rolling to a rest wherever he may find her. This first time, they looked at each other for a long moment, recognizing, as much as they could, the importance. It lasted for all of five seconds before he was picking her up, squeezing her within an inch of their lives. He might have never been that happy before. She thought the smell of him could gag a maggot but that she could listen to his laugh for the rest of her life. And she would.

[trulybetty]

dec' 16 x - snowball fight

Prompt: snowball fith Pairing: sweetjanes!marcus x reader Word Count: 702 Warnings: domestic fluff, mentions of food and suburban life Summary: it's been a long time since I wrote for these two - just a slice of domesticity for these two I imagine some way in the future for them 💕 AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

The frosty bite of the DC winter air had flushed Marcus' cheeks a rosy hue as he stepped through the back door, shaking off the cold. His breath came out in puffs of white vapor, and snowflakes, like tiny crystals, clung to his hair. The laughter of the kids next door could be heard echoing into the kitchen from where Marcus had been in the thick of a snowball fight with them outside.

You looked up from where you were chopping vegetables for dinner, a wide smile  played at your lips at the sight of him. It was a rarity that Marcus' caseload was clear enough for a decent stretch, and the two of you had been taking advantage of the sense of normality it brought with it.

“Sounds like you had fun out there,” you smiled, the warm, homey scent of roasting chicken enveloping the room.

“I only went out there to shovel the driveway,” Marcus explained as he took off his wet gloves. “But those kids? They caught me off guard, especially that tiny one. She's got a killer throwing arm.”

You grinned, setting the knife down and wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Sounds like you need to brush up on your defense skills Agent Pike.” you remarked, as you watched him shrug off his heavy coat and hang it next to the backdoor.

Marcus pouted playfully, his deep brown eyes sparkling. “Hey now, I'll have you know that my snowball-making skills are exceptional.”

You chuckled and shook your head, leaning against the counter. “Oh, absolutely.”

Crossing the tiled floor, now in his socked feet having rid them of his boots. He wrapped his arms around you, the chill from outside still lingering on his clothes and you shrieked at the cold it brought you. You tried to skirt away from him, but he pulled you closer nuzzling his face into your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

“Dinner smells amazing,” Marcus murmured, his voice low and husky. His lips brushed against the delicate skin behind your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“You're freezing,” you said as you managed to escape his hold, “you should go take a shower and warm up. Dinner will be done in half an hour.”

“I'll be quick then,” he promised, already walking backwards towards the stairs, his eyes fixed on you. “Care to join me and make sure I don't dawdle?”

You laughed, you couldn't help but notice how the suburban life suited him. The move had been a good decision; the space, the quiet, it all allowed Marcus to draw that much-needed line between his intense work as director of the FBI's art crime and investigation team and the sanctuary of home. His office remained in the city, a chaotic hub that he could leave behind at the end of the day when he returned to the peace of the suburbs—and to you.

As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, you let out a sigh and turned back to the dinner preparations. The chicken sizzled in the oven, herbed and buttered rice sat on the stove and the vegetables in front of you were ready to join the chicken in the oven.

You attempted to refocus on the task at hand, getting the vegetables for the oven. However, your attention was quickly diverted as you heard the sound of water rushing from the shower in your ensuite above. Taking a quick look around the kitchen, you decided that dinner could wait a bit longer and turned down the heat on the roasting chicken before rushing up the stairs.

[ronearoundblindly]

Autumn Is Healing (Oct 21st)

Flufftober Day Twenty-One--Kiss for Good Luck

drabble for steve rogers x super soldier!reader (see previous or series)

No warnings, just floof (ok, technically a few curse words). WC 670

It was a total accident.

Since you are restricted around the compound without a chaperone, Bucky and Steve always come to your room to tell you they are leaving on a mission. It’s a courtesy but also a calming reassurance.

You give cheek kisses.

Those were always a big thing in your childhood, and once you woke back up, once you felt a little more secure in yourself and these people around you, you fell right back into the habit.

Someone brings you food. Kiss. They do you a favor or explain something new. Kiss. Drop you back off after your outdoor time. Kiss. It’s always on the cheek though.

Steve uses an outrageous amount of concentration to not start blushing before they even get to your door because he knows what’s coming. He gets his kiss.

Sure, it’s just the cheek, and sure, Bucky’s gonna get one, too. Still a kiss though. It’s still from you.

“Hey, doll, we’re heading out,” Bucky drawls nonchalantly as you open the door. “Just came for our bit'a luck.”

You bounce forward and plant one on Bucky’s left cheek. Steve stares a little too intensely at the way your lips fold in a pout once they hit his skin. He commits things about how your body moves to memory often; he just doesn’t admit it to anyone.

Except something is different. You take one look at Steve and run back into your room.

“Wait, I almost forgot. I made you something. It’s…it’s right…shit,” you whisper, rummaging through a pile of things on your dresser.

Bucky’s eyes are down on his screen. They got a ping of fresh intel, so Steve steps inside to let you know.

“We gotta go. Don’t worry if you can’t—“

“Here!” Two little sachets are clutched in your hand. “Dried the lavender myself for ya—“ you tuck them into the nearest pouch on his utility belt “—so you boys can wind down if you get a chance.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you,” Steve says absently. He’s looking back to Bucky who is grunting, annoyed by some development, and he knows now that you were aiming for his turned cheek.

Instead, Steve tries to refocus on you and bumps your nose before your lips—those soft things that press that very particular way he can vividly recall with his eidetic memory—land on his.

Your eyes are closed, but his aren’t. He expects a faster correction. You’re a super soldier, too, so you have quick reflexes like him. You must know what’s happened.

There’s no flicker across your features, no hesitation, just the normal firm yet gentle pucker of your lips to his skin but it’s his lips. Of course, Steve’s reflex is to kiss back, simple, quick. It’s basically a peck, but all that concentration on not blushing went out the window about three seconds ago and his unkissed cheeks are on fire now.

You haven’t even pulled away by the time he repeats, “thank you.” The words make his bottom lip brush against yours.

Bucky clears his throat in the doorway, muttering, “anytime now, punk.”

And then you’re resting back on your heels and smiling.

“Be safe, boys.”

Steve twitches a bit to gather himself. “Thank you—“ can he think of nothing else at this point? “—we’ll be back soon, Rosie.”

He pats the pouch on his hip and almost—almost—says thank you a fourth time but stops himself, and Steve ducks out of your room with eyes to the floor.

While waiting for the elevator, Bucky snorts.

“Looking a bit rosy yourself there, Stevie. Everything ok?”

Buck knows. He’s been his best friend for decades, and Steve doesn’t know why he insists on attempting to hide any of this from him but he tries. He tries to tamp down the flutter in his gut and the wild urge to grin. The flush of his neck and face are a lost cause but no matter. Steve’s happy.

“Never better,” Steve mutters. “Feeling lucky.”

challenge details @flufftober

[Day Twenty; Day Twenty-Two]

[Chronological Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[staysaneathome]

Five Ways Gertrude Robinson Didn’t Die (And One Way She Did)

(TW for Murder)

2) Sasha

“Afternoon, Mrs. Robinson!”

“Miss James.” Gertrude Robinson presses a button on the tape recorder in front of her. When it continues spooling, she raises an eyebrow, folding her fingers together. “How kind of you to drop by.”

“Sonja asked me to pick up some things related to an artefact that’s giving them trouble in Storage.” Sasha says, cheerfully, as she sets down a cup of coffee before her. “And I couldn’t miss out on the chance to have a chat with my favorite Head Archivist.”

Gertrude Robinson lets out a soft chuckle as she picks up the tea cup, contents still gently swirling from being stirred. There are still grains from the two sugar cubes dissolving in it as she takes a sip.

“You know, we could always use more hands and eyes down here.” Gertrude says, sweetly. “And then we could have all the chats we’d like.”

Sasha laughs, fiddling with the strap of her messenger bag as she takes a sip from a large travel cup. “Not before I convert you to the wonders of tea.”

The Archivist’s face screws up as she takes a larger gulp of her coffee. “You’ll convert me to that weak, dried, vegetable swill when I retire and the Institute comes down around our ears.”

Sasha laughs, head thrown back. “I guess we’re at an impasse then.”

“Well,” Gertrude settles into her chair, sipping contentedly. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for hearing what nonsense the other departments have got up to this week.”

Sasha laughs again, and launches into a tale of how Martin-from-the-library managed to somehow misplace an entire section of books when returning them to the shelves, again, much to Hannah’s furious consternation, that Director Bouchard was heard having a loud and rather explicit argument with another male voice in his office on Tuesday, and that Kikyo-from-HR is apparently having an affair with Diya-in-IT, according to Rosie, and that Tim saw Jon-Sims-in-Research set his own jacket on fire when trying to get a spider off while holding a cigarette.

And Gertrude Robinson drinks it all in like she does her coffee, greedy sips as her eyes almost glowing with interest, seeming to derive as much of a caffeine boost from the gossip and company as from the drink.

Which is what made Sasha break her stride momentarily when Gertrude’s head begins to loll, face going slack before she seems to forcefully refocus herself, her breath coming shorter and shorter until she holds up a wavering hand to interrupt the slew of information.

“Wh, what…?” The Archivist’s eyes are struggling to focus. “I, wha, how…?”

“You know, my mum’s always had awful insomnia.” Sasha confides. “If she wants to even drop off, she needs a pill a night. Her latest doctor put her on a new one, filled with…oh what was it…pentobarbital, yes, that’s it. Now, having one or two are quite harmless, but a few dozen or so capsules emptied into a cup of coffee?”

She spreads her hands and shrugs as Gertrude Robinson stares down at the mostly drained cup before her.

“Y-you—!” She slurs, slumping back in her chair, hands forming claws in the air before her as she grasps desperately for the cup. “Wh, ho, whuh, hu-uurgk—!”

“It’s nothing personal.” Sasha says cheerfully as she collects the tape recorder and the mug. “It’s just the job market is murder right now, you know?”

She laughs at the joke as Gertrude Robinson lets out a wet gurgle.

“Rent isn’t getting any lower, sadly.” She shares a knowing look with Gertrude, who stares back at her with spittle flecking her cheeks. “Your generation was the one blessed with the property boom, after all. And I love working here, but not for the salary I get right now, trust me.”

“Plus, I’m just.” Sasha makes a gentle throttling motion to the air in front of her. “I’m, I’m hungry, you know? Not for, for a sandwich or anything like that. I’m one of the best in research, if not the best. I know I could do great things as a department head here. I just need the chance.”

Gertrude flops over sideways as her core muscles give out.

“But Will just got promoted there, and to be honest, I’m getting a bit tired of it? Like, I feel like I’m just coming in every day to listen to music and do my job in the background, it’s just no challenge anymore. I think I’d go mad from boredom as head of the Library. No thank you to Artefact Storage, I know that’s just asking for more trouble than it’s worth. But the Archives?”

Sasha seals the plastic baggie she’d deposited the cup in, tucks it into her bag alongside the still running recorder, then whirls on her heel to ease her audience out of her chair. “Oh, imagine the things I could do here! I could actually get this place organized for a start, digitize things so people don’t need to keep coming down here for the paper copies of incidents, make it more accessible for the world to see… We could even publish statements! I know several academic journals that’re hankering to know what we get here, not to mention how well they’d go down online with barely any marketing! Privacy agreements don’t last forever, and I’m sure some celebrities in the past century must have come down here to confess their personal nightmares. Even if they haven’t, everyone loves a good horror story.”

Her gaze vanishes into the middle distance, a dreamy smile on her face. “Director Bouchard might even appoint me as his successor when he finally steps down. The first female director in the Institute’s history! I think ‘Director James’ sounds good, don’t you?”

Gertrude Robinson lets out a wheezing rattle, one arm flailing for Sasha’s face.

“Ah, ah!” Sasha leans out of the way, shuffling back a few steps with a click of her tongue. “Can’t let you get any of my DNA on you, or round here. Though I suppose it won’t matter if it’s on your body, given what I’m going to do with it, but it won’t look good if I show up to work all scratched after you’ve mysteriously disappeared.”

Gertrude’s eyes are fixed on her. Even as her body weakly convulses, going a bit more limp each time, she still stares.

“It’s nothing personal.” Sasha says gently, defensively. “It’s just. Well. You’re old. You should have retired by now—anyone sensible would have. I’m sorry that your family won’t have any body to bury, but needs must. I’ll wait until you’re dead before I put you into the chest in Artefact Storage, at least. The one people can never get things out of again. No murder investigation if there’s no body, after all!”

Gertrude Robinson’s lips move one last time.

The old lady lies silent and still.

She’s still staring.

Even as Sasha loads her body into the covered transport cart she’s borrowed from Sonja, her eyes never waver. Sasha has to snag the contents of a few extra boxes to try and block it out, along with covering the corpse.

The cart is heavy, but Sasha’s proud to say that the crossfit class she attends every fortnight is finally paying off. Getting her load to Artefact Storage is simplicity itself.

Sasha James deposits her cargo, returns the cart and gives Sonja the documents she was after, and goes back to work. She chats amiably with David about how annoying the upcoming train strikes will be, jokes and teases Tim when he and Jon get back from followup on a case where some yummy mummy is convinced the new nanny’s head had been filled with spiders.

She gets herself a takeout from the nice Italian on her way home, and a bottle of expensive champagne that she doesn’t drink.

She’s got to save it for celebrating her promotion, after all.

The next week, Elias Bouchard comes down and announces that Jonathan Sims will be the new Head Archivist.

Jon, for his part, seems as blindsided as everyone feels, gaze fixed firmly on his shoes and laugh small, incredulous, and flustered every time someone congratulates him.

Sasha smiles as she delivers hers.

She’ll smile when Tim rants on her behalf, ribbing gently with him, making a show that while she’s disappointed, she doesn’t begrudge Jon the position, not at all.

Even if he’s clearly making a hash of it as the weeks and months go on, bullying poor Martin to cover up for his own deficiencies as she runs gentle, understanding interference.

It’ll be good to have a few character witnesses when the time comes for Jon to have an unfortunate little accident, after all.

[xhanisai]

kwamibuster what if?

In this story, instead of getting off with extreme fatigue and some sickness after utilising all those miraculous at once, Marinette actually ends up getting very, very sick. Exactly like how Emelie and Nathalie suffered after using the peacock miraculous when it was broken. Though her mind was strong and remained stable, Marinette's body just couldn't handle the toll of using all of that magic at once and it's slowly starting to kill her excruciatingly and slowly.

She tries to keep it a secret from everyone, even from her partner and her master and her family, trying to guise it as a sudden sickness that took over whilst she looked for a cure on her own but unfortunately (or fortunately), her partner isn't that naive. And he will do anything to ensure that he doesn't lose another woman he loves and adores with all his everything die just like that.

Anything.

Here's a snippet:

"Chat Noir!" The call of his name was all that the feline hero needed as an indication to activate his cataclysme, his fatal hand slamming against the base of la Tour Eiffel and the monument droned for a second before collapsing on top of the giant, havoc-wreaking akuma. The puppet villain let out a defiant roar, unable to move from the weight of the tower all whilst Ladybug tied it up with her bandalore with incredible speed and then proceeded to destroy the akumatised object by tearing it apart with brute strength.

On an ordinary day, Chat Noir would've watched the aftermath scene with a lovesick sigh and a syrupy, gooey grin plastered on his face to compliment his rosy cheeks. However, all he could do was gently keep her steady on her feet with his hands supporting her bony shoulders, his partner still swaying on her feet after casting the cleansing light. Indescribable concern and worry bubbled within the pits of his stomach and it was shredding what little sanity he had left. But for the sake of her wellbeing, he kept the wailing, heartbroken child locked away inside his heart, not even wanting dwell on the fact that the people he love are getting sicker and sicker and there's nothing that he could do about it.

"Hey," He stroked her pale cheek tenderly, offering a comforting smile as she tried to refocus her dazed eyes. His anxieties were quelled just for a moment when his Lady gave him a small grin of her own, easily relaxing in his sweet, protective hold and leaning into his touch as he continued to cradle her face. "Alya is chatting with the victim and helping them out so let me take you somewhere safe before you time out. Okay?" As if to emphasise his point, her earrings' beeping became louder, indicating that she only had a few minutes at best. His ring began to beep to much his seething dismay, knowing that he'll be unable to talk with her for a bit. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask if they can meet up again after their kwamis recharged but he was silenced by the way she stepped out of his hold and continued to smile so beautifully.

The breeze swept through her hair, midnight strands looking more fragile than ever. Her pale skin looked practically ghostly, contrasting the blood red of her suit. And her eyes...her brilliant sky blue eyes...they looked so tired and so defeated...

Yet she continued to smile at him as if everything is alright with the world.

.

But she doesn't realise that she is his world and the sight of her so sickly and looking so much like his mother who was on death's door and Nathalie who is on the verge of something dangerous and sweet, sweet Marinette who looked like she was going to disappear anytime soon...it was destroying him. He was falling apart internally as she was physically and his Lady still isn't being truthful about what's really going on.

Neither of the sick women in his life were letting him in at all and it simply fanned the inferno of fury and rage against the world inside of him.

Thank you for the ask! Feel free to ask away for anymore regarding this WIP or any of the others on this list!

Ask WIP game

[goddamn-grammar-blog]

Your enclosures are amazing!!! My ball python Mordecai has a giant Sterilite tub that I’m decently happy with at the moment and looking at the effort you’ve put into enriching your girls’ homes makes me want to completely renovate his lol. Don’t think he and the isopods would appreciate it much though 😂

Thank you so much! For me, it's taken a lot of time to start building enclosures that are nice looking, functional and successful.

Luckily, most of my snakes just shrug off everything I do and don't stress. The only ones I really worry about not taking changes well is Haloke, a rosy, and Keeva, black AHS (rather than my BP, Ofeefee). But even then, they've surprised me :).

When I get the itch to start looking for a new snake, I just refocus that on upgrading existing enclosures. Finding new plants, CUC, hides and things is just plain fun.

[isabellafoster13]

Chapter Six: Laxus Dreyar

Lucy opened the glass door of the large case that always housed fresh pastries. She used a pair of cooking tongs to pick up the freshly baked small cakes off of the hot tray she held with her other hand, an oven mitt providing protection from the heat of the iron tray. She continuously glanced at the door, praying that Kit and the man she had enlisted to assist her wouldn't show up. 

She yawned for the umpteenth time that morning. For about a week, she was unable to sleep as much as would've liked due to her fear of being attacked again. She would lay in bed with her keys clutched tightly in her hands before finally falling asleep after a few hours of hypervigilance. She would then wake up at every little sound, scared that it was another attack. She would eventually end up making herself tea and sitting in the main room of her apartment, not able to fall asleep again, and wait the time for her to head to work to arrive. 

She didn't like being so on edge, every sound made her jump and reach for her keys. It's gotten to the point that Minnie was beginning to become concerned, Lucy could tell from the looks her employer would send her every time she yelped or jumped something due to getting startled. 

She had to admit though, with how much she's been looking out for Kit and that man, she hadn't been thinking about Cana, Bixlow, or Erza as much as she used to. That wasn't to say that she never thought about them, she still did. Whenever she was able to relax, Lucy's mind would wander to the three Fairy Tail mages she met not even a month ago. Her stomach would then become filled with butterflies, her heartbeat would get faster, she would blush such a rosy color that anybody would believe her to be sick, and she would once again question why she was like this. She still didn't have the faintest clue. What was going on with her? She couldn't be in love with three people...right? 

She shook her head, trying to refocus on the task of restocking the pastry case before the small cakes lost their warmth completely. She tried to shake the three mages from her mind but found that the only way she could do that was if she focused on watching for Kit and her accomplice. Not wanting to scare herself again, Lucy tried to turn her thoughts over to which guild she should join. 

Fairy Tail or Sabertooth? 

She still wasn't sure. Fairy Tail was a very attractive option It was strong and welcoming. Although, it also had Cana, Bixlow, and Erza. She wasn't sure how she would fare in a guild with the three mages that were causing her this much confusion over her feelings and sexuality. 

Sabertooth was also an interesting option. It was new, but also already had strong mages, as well as mages that were new to magic, she was sure. If what Minnie said about the newly made guild was true, then she would be just as welcomed there as she would be at Fairy Tail. 

She didn't know all that much about either guild, so she wasn't sure which one was best for her. She remembered Minnie telling her that Master Makarov would be arriving that afternoon to talk to her when she came into work. She honestly couldn't wait to meet the man. She hoped that everything she had heard about him was true. She'd just have to wait and see. 

Laxus walked behind his grandfather, arms crossed and not at all pleased looking with walking to some bakery and cafe in Crocus. He could see the front of it in his mind's eye, having been there many times before. It was a one-story building that wasn't what would be considered large. It had a large window in the front with a glass door right next to it. Overhead was a blue and pink awning spanning the length of the front of the building. Above the awning that provided delightful shade was a sign, large words painted in black spelling the name of the bakery and cafe, 'Minnie's Coffee and Pastries'.

The blonde man looks down at his grandfather in front of him, asking, "why'd you have to drag me here, old man?" 

Makarov chuckled lightly, a skip in his step as he hurried along to the wonderful coffee and cookies he could practically taste already, making his mouth water. He answered his grandson's question with a chipper tone, "because, I think it would be good for you to get out of the guild and enjoy some of Minnie's pastries and tea. Don't you miss visiting?" 

Laxus scoffed, muttering a no as his answer before he crossed his arms and looked around at the passing people and buildings. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he did miss the place they were walking to. Minnie was a very nice lady, never too talkative and bothersome when he visited, and her brownies tasted as though they were made from heaven. He also enjoyed her coffee, not much of a fan of tea. He preferred to come by with the Thunder Legion, knowing that they very much enjoyed the pastries and beverages that Minnie would set about making immediately upon seeing the small group of mages, knowing exactly what to make and ring up due to them always ordering the same thing. He thought that he could probably bring something back to the guild for his three friends, provided his grandfather didn't eat it all before they got back to the guild. 

Laxus was brought out of his thoughts when his grandfather added, "Minnie told me that she had a new employee just a few years younger than you. Maybe you and her would get along very well." 

The dragon slayer rolled his eyes at that. He wished his grandfather would stop trying to set him up with every young woman he came in contact with. If he wanted a woman, then he would get a woman. He didn't need his grandfather's help or insistence. Why couldn't Makarov understand that? He didn't see why he should care about this new employee of Minnie's. She's probably just some airheaded young woman that is beautiful and nothing else. Don't get Laxus wrong, he didn't mind a woman with a nice body, but even he wasn't that shallow. He wanted a woman that was not just enjoyable to look at but also enjoyable to talk to. He liked a woman that had more than one brain cell and didn't just do everything he asked her to do. He wanted a woman that had looks, smarts, and stubbornness. Bonus points if she was a magic user and was either very strong or had the drive to become stronger. Was any of this too much to ask for? Laxus didn't think so. 

The pair of strong mages came to their destination, walking inside to see that the bakery and cafe was empty, not a surprise since it never did get many customers in the early morning. Laxus figured it would be about three hours until Minnie and her employee become busy, which meant he and his grandfather had about three hours to do whatever they came by to do and then leave. He quickly noticed the smell of vanilla and strawberries. It was really nice. Maybe Minnie was making some cakes in those flavors. He wouldn't mind a small cake.

Laxus and Makarov sat at a two-chaired table before the Fairy Tail Guild Master turned to face the kitchen, raised his hand in greeting, and called with a large smile, "Minnie! I'm here! I've brought Laxus too!" 

As if on cue, a young blonde popped up from behind the counter, a soiled rag and cup in her hands. It seemed as though she had dropped a filled cup and was just cleaning up her accidental mess. She peered at the two men with wide eyes, appearing to not have noticed their arrival. Makarov smiled at her while Laxus simply stared with little care. Sure, she was beautiful, but he doubted there was anything in her head. 

Makarov broke the silence with a kind tone of voice to his greeting and question, "hello, dear! Where is Minnie? I came at her request to speak with her new employee." 

The blonde woman quickly snapped out of her trance, answering, "oh! Um...I'm that employee you came to talk to. Would you like me to get you anything? Minnie is in the kitchen. I can bring her out here if you'd like." 

Makarov waved his hand dismissively. "No no, I don't want to distract her from whatever she's doing. Before we begin our little meeting, would you please bring me a cup of nutmeg coffee and three lemon cookies?" He looked up at his grandson, asking, "what would you like my boy?" 

Laxus kept his steel gaze on the other blonde. He answered coolly, "a black coffee and a plain brownie." The blonde woman nodded, setting about to prepare their orders and bring the hot beverages and sweets to the two men. Laxus watched her busy herself. He inhaled deeply, finding that the pleasant vanilla and strawberry smell he caught upon entering was her scent. He still liked it. He watched her masterfully work and make her way over with his and his grandfather's orders. She sat the sweets and drinks on the table in front of them, giving Laxus a clear view of a keyring full of keys on her hip, hanging from a belt. There were several, colored gold and silver. He raised a blonde eyebrow at the keys, wracking his brain for what they could be for. Was she a mage? Were these keys for magic use? If yes, then this woman just became more interesting than Laxus originally thought. 

The young woman stepped back and asked, "anything else?" 

Makarov took a large bite of one of his cookies, chewed, and swallowed before he answered, "yes, you can sit down so we can start our meeting." 

The woman quickly grabbed a chair and sat down. She looked between the two men, clearly not sure what she should do. Makarov finished off his first cookie and then asked, "tell us what your name is, please." 

The woman answered with a small smile, "I'm Lucy Hear-"

She then covered her mouth quickly, eyes wide and fearful, seeming as though she had just said something she shouldn't of. Laxus raised his eyebrow at that, curious as to what the big deal about her last name was. He decided to let it slide, as did his grandfather. 

Lucy cleared her throat before saying, her eyes on the table, "I'm Lucy." 

Makarov nodded. Before he took a bite of his second cookie, he asked, "what is your magic?"

Lucy turned her gaze to the old man, a smile spreading across her face as she answered happily, "I use Celestial Spirit Magic. I have these keys," she pulled out her keyring and sat it on the table for them to see, "each one summons a celestial spirit. My spirits can use a variety of magic and perform all sorts of tasks." 

Makarov questioned, taking a few sips of his coffee, "could you tell me about these spirits of yours?" 

Laxus watched as Lucy nodded and began talking about each of her spirits. He observed her carefully. He liked how her blonde hair reminded him of the sun and how her brown eyes were lovely and expressive. He could clearly tell that she loved her spirits and loved to talk about them, her eyes were sparkling with admiration and happiness. She was very beautiful, with a cute nose, soft-looking skin, and a curvaceous figure. Laxus also found her voice to be just as nice to listen to as her scent was to smell and she was to look at. He unconsciously leaned forward and took a bite of his large brownie, eyes still trained on her. He rested his arms on the table, curious about this young woman's intelligence. 

Once Lucy had finished talking about her spirits, Laxus asked his own question, "how do you feel about riddles?" 

Lucy smiled at him and answered, "I love riddles." 

Laxus maintained his look of disinterest as he spoke again, "I add six to eleven, and get five. Why is this correct?" He was tempted to smirk deviously, almost confident that she wouldn't get it correct. This was a riddle that he used to test a woman's intelligence whenever one caught his interest. He chose this particular riddle because it took even Freed two hours to figure out. So far, not a single woman had been able to answer correctly. He didn't at all expect Lucy to solve it. 

Lucy looked down at the table, thinking about the riddle. However, she wasn't able to answer because Makarov had broken in, "I don't think giving her riddles will tell her anything about Fairy Tail." 

Laxus leaned back, crossing his arms. "Oh, so that's why you dragged me here old man. To convince Blondie to join our guild." 

Lucy's eyebrow twitched upon hearing the nickname. She stood up and smacked Laxus upside the head, telling him with annoyance, "my name is Lucy! And you're blonde too!" 

Laxus glared at the woman, ignoring the funny feeling in his gut and the voice in his head that told him that Lucy's reaction was pretty hot. He turned his attention back to his food, intending to give the other blonde the cold shoulder. He knew it was something that only immature girls did, but it was the only way he could think of to keep this feeling that he already didn't like from growing. 

For an hour Makarov and Lucy talked about Fairy Tail with the celestial wizard asking questions and listening to the small, old man's answers. Laxus observed her, admiring her looks and how well she did conversing with his grandfather. From what he was able to tell for that hour, Lucy was a great conversationalist and smarter than many people he's met. Maybe not smarter than Levy or especially Freed, but smart enough. Several times Lucy would glance at him, causing Laxus to quickly look away, not wanting to make her think that he was developing feelings for her. Each time he would feel heat make its way onto his cheeks and then he'd offer a silent prayer that Lucy didn't notice, or pay much attention to it. 

Laxus wasn't a dense idiot like Natsu. He knew that he was developing a crush on Lucy. He didn't like it, but he honestly couldn't blame himself either. It's been an hour and she's already caught his interest. He thought about offering to give her a tour of Fairy Tail's guildhall and allow her to meet some of the mages, especially the Thunder Legion. However, he wasn't quite sure if he should. He was beginning to like her, but he had no idea if she liked him at all. Maybe he should have his grandfather offer instead. That would give him a chance to spend more time with her and not make her suspect anything. She would also be more likely to accept if it was Makarov that offered a tour. 

Laxus was brought out of his thoughts when he heard his grandfather's voice directed toward him, "Laxus, my boy, is there anything you would like to ask Lucy?" 

The dragon slayer looked at his grandfather and then at the aforementioned young woman. Trying to maintain his look of disinterest, he requested, "can you get me five chocolate chip cookies, five small blueberry cakes, and five strawberry doughnuts?" He looked down at the table, seeing that he had finished his brownie, and looked back at Lucy to add, "and another brownie." 

Lucy nodded, asking as she stood up and placed her filled keyring back in place on her belt, "to go for the two of you?" 

Laxus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, answering gruffly, "no, for my team." 

Lucy nodded in response and went to grab his order. Upon coming back, she had a blue and pink box, along with a check. She set the box down in front of Laxus and handed Makarov the check, who quickly handed her the money. The celestial wizard walked back to the counter with the money as Laxus and Makarov said their goodbyes and left. Just as Laxus was exiting the bakery and cafe, Lucy called to him, "hey! Laxus!" 

The dragon slayer turned around slightly to look back at her, raising an eyebrow and waiting for her to say whatever she wanted to say. Lucy gave him a pretty smile and simply said, "When it is 11 a.m., adding six hours makes it 5 p.m." She then walked into the kitchen. Laxus stood dumbfounded for a few moments, his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. 

She got it right. She answered the riddle correctly on her first try. It had taken Freed two hours to answer it, and yet Lucy was able to answer it in half that time. 

Makarov asked his grandson, "so, what do you think of Lucy?"

Laxus simply continued walking silently. He wasn't sure how deep these feelings he was developing would go, or what Lucy thinks about him, but whatever the answers to those questions were, he was going to meet her again.

He was going to make her his woman. 

You can count on that.

Lucy peeked out of the kitchen. She was relieved to see that Master Makarov and Laxus had left. She hadn't been expecting Fairy Tail's Guild Master to bring his grandson. At first, she wished that he hadn't because the older man seemed to be a shallow jerk. However, as time passed, she began to doubt that assumption. Sure, she didn't have much of a conversation with him, but from the way that she noticed he was looking at her, and how he would blush slightly whenever he realized that she had caught him, made her think that maybe he was the tough on the outside, kind on the inside type. It was definitely sweet that he made sure to get a few of his friends some treats before leaving. He even gave her a sense of safety. She wasn't sure why, but the man's presence helped her to relax and forget about Kit and that man working for her, even if for just an hour. She felt safe with him sitting next to her.

She also had to admit that he was very attractive. Muscular with a handsome face and very pretty stormy grey eyes. She honestly wouldn't mind having a conversation with only him. She wished that he had offered to show her his guild at some point, but she supposed that maybe it was for the best that he didn't. Let's be honest, he probably wasn't interested in her. He was likely the type that was more into women his age. More mature women. 

Still, she couldn't deny that she was just as attracted to him as she was to the other Fairy Tail mages that she's met, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. She didn't know why she was attracted to so many mages from Fairy Tail, or why it was a mixture of men and women that she was developing an attraction towards upon first meeting. She might need to talk to someone before she drove herself crazy, but who? 

Lucy set about working, trying to clear her mind of everything that had been bothering her lately, but, of course, not exactly succeeding in that attempt. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed it! Also, sorry for taking so long to post the next chapter. I'm trying to put myself on a schedule of one chapter per week. Let's hope it goes as planned. 

Here is a hint for the next person to be introduced: Prayer

[ruinedarcadefinallywrites]

Making

Chapter 1

700 words

Tw- Verbally abusive Derek, blood mention, mention of animal death, start of murder

Part of Eric wishes he’d had the guts to stand up six years ago. When he at least had some sympathy, lying in a hospital bed after the second accident. Derek just looked so distraught, panicked even, watching from his chair a few feet away. All he wanted to do was make him happy. Bring his dad back to the way he was, smiling as Eric tried his best. At least then his critiques weren’t said out loud 

He just didn’t realize how much he’d hate doing it. Now, he’s under the burning out studio lights, horribly sweaty in another sweater. Bright yellow with rosy mustaches stuck everywhere possible. 

“And! And uh, you too ca-can stay nice and to-toasty this summer! I-I..you ca-can stay toasty this wi-winter!” Somewhere to his right, there’s a burrowing stare from eyes that match his own, making the sweat darken the collar of the sweater. Refusing to make eye contact, he pauses before returning to the script. 

“You-you can ever uh, but one for your uh, your dogs! Then th-they can stay to-toasty this sum-summer! Like hotdogs! Or uh..like do-dogs in a car! But the-they’re fine! Win-windows open..and uh..they can es-escape!” Eric’s dog escaped the bus, just like he had. Rosie was out of the window, before quickly turning into a kebab as the metal plating on the side of the bus crumbled off in the heat of the fire. Like Damocles sword finally snapping from its thread. 

Finally, someone snaps him out of his daze by hooking a finger under his collar and tugging sharply. Its sudden motion makes him choke, stepping back to be forced into the gaze of Derek. 

“That’s a wrap everyone! See you tomorrow.” Words that seem to chant Eric’s doom as the studio quickly empties. By now they understand what happens after filming, and would rather distance themselves from the explosion than trying to diffuse the bomb.

“What the hell was that! Can’t you fucking read? The script was barely two pages and you’re out there monologuing!” Deciding that yelling on the studio floor was inappropriate, Derek has kindly moved his rant into a supply room. A few boxes of unsold and out of season sweaters sit in the corner, and repair kits for the cameras. 

Eric tries his best to be brave during these fights, standing up straight at the start of them and making the closest thing to eye contact he can stomach. Today, he’s lasted the longest, five minutes in and he hasn’t crumbled yet. Taking the stream of agony from Derek and trying to not say anything. Distracting himself by trying to count how many screwdrivers are in the toolbox closest to him. 

When his jaw is grabbed and he’s rudely forced into reality, his eyes refocus. A first from Derek, who usually never dares to touch him outside of a grab to the shirt. “Are you not fucking listening again? Your fucking mother..coddling you and saying you could follow your fucking dreams! And she leaves me, your brothers all leave me, with the son I don’t want! It always should’ve been you!” 

Something new fills his body. No longer flight or freeze. Fight. He hardly thinks when he lands the first blow to Derek’s chest. Not on the second, third, or fourth. Not even when Eric pushes him to the floor, pinning him down under the weight of his foot. 

Consciousness floods back into his mind when he feels Derek trying to knock his leg off. Plastic shifting and metal catching on his thighs. “Eric..Eric please..” wheezed Derek, gripping at the metal blade against his chest. Doing his best to try and lift it off of himself. 

Twenty-five screwdrivers. Eric only just counted them a minute ago, but he’s reminding himself as he pulls the toolbox off the shelf. Dropping it onto Derek’s hand and listening carefully to the two new sounds of the room. Bones being crushed and Derek’s broken sobs. Sickeningly, it’s delightful. Urging Eric to push more of those noises out of him. 

Maybe he wasn’t exactly steady in his hand, but it feels so easy when he twists the screwdriver in hand. One, two, three times, before it’s being jammed into Derek’s chest. He’d been too weak as he held it, and it has to be dug into get the result he wants. Unsatisfied, he tries again. Derek’s cries dissolve away, and so does Eric’s vision. Blacking out completely as he reaches for the next screwdriver.