#she has a hundred songs sitting around and we get like one (1) single a year??

[taraolssons]

taraolssons → comfortinmysins

because sza’s dropping shirt. after a year and a half. A YEAR AND A HALF.

still tracking #usersaba of course!

[itsbeeble]

Bittersweet (pt 2 of Sour)

Summary: After the unintentional reveal of Mingi’s intentions toward you, everything about him feels bittersweet.

Genre: Angst

WC: ~2.4k

Pairing: song mingi x afab!reader

Warnings: none really. A lot of angst, Wooyoung doing damage control (kinda), a single sex joke I think

ALL PARTS: pt 1: Sour | pt 2: Bittersweet | pt 3: Tangy | true ending | alt ending

Monday rolls around too fast, the rest of your weekend spent holed away in your dorm room. Your roommate, Ryujin, did her best to comfort you, to keep people out. To keep them out. You had let your phone die the night of the party, ignoring the hundreds of texts and calls you’d received that same night. When you’d finally plugged it in Sunday morning, you made it a point to block each of their numbers. All eight of them.

You don’t go to your first class, the one you share with Jongho. You don’t go to the one after that, the one you share with Mingi, San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang. Nor do you go to the one you share with Seonghwa, Yunho, and Hongjoong. You stay in your dorm room, curled up under your blankets with the curtains shut and the lights off. You let the silence be your comfort for the time being, at least until Ryujin comes back with your dinner. 

There’s a knock at your door. One, two, three slow knocks. You know it isn’t Ryujin. She has a key and she would just come in without warning. That leaves only a handful of people, none of which you want to see.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung’s voice is quiet and muffled, much unlike his usual tone. You’re almost surprised he was the first to try to speak to you. “Can you open the door?” You pull your blanket further over your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m— we’re sorry. We’re really sorry. Just…just please talk to us? Talk to me at least?” Your heart begins to pound, a lump forming in your throat. He sounds…sad. He’s been sad, of course, but he’s never sounded sad. Always trying to make other people laugh before receiving comfort. But now…there’s nothing for the two of you to laugh about. He could laugh at you, of course. You’ve been the victim of their sick joke for three years now, and you had no idea.

“Y/N, I just…I want you to know that he never intended to hurt you like this. I know that…I know that it doesn’t seem like it, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but he really cares about you. He always has. This was never a game to him. You were never a game to him.” 

You wonder if he’s lying to you. Wonder if he’s just trying to win back your trust, try to get you to open the door only to laugh right in your face and make a joke out of you once more. 

There’s silence now, and you assume he left, giving up on you. You feel the tears on your cheeks now, feel them sliding across your cheek, to your nose and onto your pillow. You bring your sleeve-covered hand to your mouth and bite down, muffling your sobs as best you can. 

You knew it would hurt more after the fact. 

You just didn’t know it would hit you like a tidal wave.

~

“Hey,” Ryujin shoves your shoulder, jolting you from sleep. The smell of fried chicken wafts through the air, reaching your nose and forcing you to peek your eyes open. She’s frowning down at you, a plastic bag of takeout in her hand. “You hungry?”

“A little.” She hums and goes to sit on her bed, unlacing her sneakers and kicking them onto the floor. You push yourself into a seated position, rubbing the sleep and the dried tears from your eyes. The lights are on now, creating a harsh glare that makes you squint. 

“You think you’ll drop his shit off tomorrow?” Ryujin is looking at you now, her hands resting on the mattress beside her. “Like his sweatshirts, the trinkets, shit like that?” You shrug. “You’ll have to at some point.”

“I know.” 

“Want me to go with you?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Okay.” She passes you a box and a fork. “Eat up, think on it. If we don’t do it tomorrow, I’m free Thursday if you want someone with you.” 

It’s hard to eat when you’re on the verge of tears. You realize this now, as well as the fact that food tastes bland when you’re crying. You keep your head down, choking down the tasteless food while the tears begin to fall and land on and in the box on your lap. The sniffing follows, and you try to force the sobs back but it begins to hurt. 

Ryujin doesn’t say much. She sits across from you, listening to you and not trying to talk to you. You appreciate it. While receiving comfort is nice, it’s sometimes better to just have someone nearby. 

Just the knowledge that she cares to stay is enough for you. 

~

Tuesday is uneventful. You no longer have tears to cry, your eyes seemingly dried up and sick of you. You continue to lay in bed, moping. Wooyoung comes by again. This time he attempts small jokes, things you used to laugh at. Jongho getting yelled at by Hongjoong for spilling coffee on a canvas. Making fun of someone in your shared class for tripping on the shitty lecture hall stairs. 

“It’s boring without you,” he says finally. “We aren’t laughing like we used to. Hongjoong is locking himself up in the studio more, coming out less. San is picking up more shifts at the cafe. Yeosang, too. Jongho spends more time at the gym. Yunho doesn’t cook, and when he does it tastes like shit.” He takes a breath after a second, and you listen carefully. “Seonghwa doesn’t clean anymore, which is funny considering he was always yelling at us about keeping our spaces clean. The house has essentially become one big trash pile.” You note how he doesn’t talk about himself, or about Mingi. You want to know why. You want to know why he is here and the one who started all this isn’t.

“You’re probably wondering why it’s me here, right? Why Mingi hasn’t come to try and talk to you?” There’s a thump against the door, you presume it’s him leaning his head against it. “If we were joking, I would tell you I got the short end of the stick this time around. Granted, it’s my fault this happened. If I hadn’t gotten myself fucked up in the first place, maybe you still wouldn’t have known. Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have happened, maybe we could’ve forgotten the bet even existed or Mingi would’ve told you. So it’s my fault.”

~

It isn’t. You know it isn’t his fault. Yes, he had been part of it. Yes, he’d neglected to tell you a crucial part of why Mingi had approached you. But, at the end of the day, it’s Mingi’s fault. He didn’t have to take the bet. He could’ve refused. He could’ve told you outright.

Everything seems bittersweet. Every memory you have of college, from your first class with Mingi, to the day of the party. You can’t help but hate the things you once loved about him. His laugh, his gummy smile, the way he carried your things wherever the two of you went, the way he kissed you. All those things are so bitter in your mind. 

The convenience store down the road from your campus once held so many good memories. The first time the two of you met, the little trips you’d make whenever one of you couldn’t sleep. Those sour candies used to taste so good to you, but now you can’t bring yourself to even look at the small blue bags.  

~

Wednesday. You wake up to Ryujin’s alarm, and force yourself out of bed. You know you have to go to class today, know you’ll have to at some point or you’ll fall behind. You know you can’t do that, not when you’re so close to getting out of here.

There’s a knock at the door. Ryujin groans from where she still lays in bed, and you sigh knowing you’re gonna have to answer it.

And boy, do you regret doing that.

“Mingi,” you choke out. He blinks down at you, mouth partially open and eyes filled with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I— I wanted to see you.” He stutters, hands clenching around the papers he’d been holding. “You weren’t in our— your classes yesterday so I wanted to bring you these.” He shoves the papers forward. Notes. Organized in the same way you’d done for him these past few years, little doodles and notes scattered across the slightly wrinkled pages. “I tried to— to keep them neat, like yours. I hope they’re okay.” 

You don’t say anything for a few moments, just staring down at these notes. These stupid fucking notes that shouldn’t affect you like they are, that shouldn’t make you want to go crawling back to him like you want to. 

“Thank you.” You say numbly, your voice trembling slightly but you blame it on the early morning fatigue. There’s a tiny spark of hope on his face, his eyes twinkling slightly. “Please leave now.” 

And just like that, the hope he’d had for just a few moments is completely crushed. 

~

Mingi knows it’s his fault. Knows he can’t blame you when you shut the door in his face. He should be happy you didn’t slam it the second you saw his face, and he’s forever grateful that you didn’t. 

He pushes a few loose strands of his fiery hair out of his face, shoulders slumping forward while he makes his way to the exit of the building. The warm air of mid-September hits him hard, and his nose scrunches while he adjusts. 

“Did you really think she was gonna forgive you?” Jongho stands to his left, leaning back against the brick wall of your dorm building. 

“What are you doing here, Jongho?” The younger boy shrugs and pulls himself off the wall.

“Making sure you didn’t do anything stupid.” There’s a pause and Jongho corrects himself. “At least, not again.”

“I get it,” Mingi snaps. “I fucked up.”

“You did more than fuck up, Mingi. You ruined her.” Jongho’s eyes are narrowed, and Mingi has to take sharp breaths to keep himself from lashing out. “What do you think is gonna happen with her now? She doesn’t trust any of us, the people she considered to be her best friends up until Wooyoung told her what you did because you didn’t. She’s going to isolate herself, Mingi. She’s going to decide that she hates you, and then you’ll never be able to reverse the damage you did. The damage we all did.” 

“What do you expect me to do, Jongho?” Mingi huffs and Jongho shrugs. Of course the younger boy would come here and bitch at him, but not offer a solution. He’s on his own this time. He has to fix this himself and he isn’t quite sure where to begin. 

“Fix it. I don’t want to lose my best friend because you’re a fucking asshole.”

~

Surprisingly, you go a full week without any of them trying to talk to you in person. It’s a week of whispers and piteous looks. A week of judgement. A week of wanting to kill anyone and everyone around you except for Ryujin and her friends.

“How long do you think it’ll be before he tries to get the boys to apologize?” Ryujin stabs a fork into her cafeteria salad. You shrug, resting your head on the palm of your hand. 

“I hope he doesn’t.” Yuna says bluntly, “he doesn’t deserve any type of forgiveness from you. I don’t care how good he fucked you while you were together.”

“Technically,” you say, “we weren’t together.”

“He never asked you to be his girlfriend?” Yeji’s jaw drops and you shake your head. “And you still held onto him for three years?” 

It’s silly, thinking about it now. You’d been looking for something secure, and he’d given you that for a while, but it hadn’t been enough. You couldn’t claim him faithful to you, because you were never together. And yet…you tried to remain as faithful to him as possible. A part of you had hoped that he’d ask you to be his, to make it official. A part of you didn’t care for the labels, or the technicalities, or anything like that. You just wanted him to tell you that he was yours, and you were his. Just that would’ve been enough for you.

“Don’t give her a hard time,” Lia scolded. “You would’ve done the same thing.”

“Not for three years though,” Chaeryoung frowned. “At that point I would’ve asked him how serious he actually was, and whether he actually wanted to be with me or not.”

“I did, a few times.” You defend yourself. “And he always said that I was the only one he wanted.”

“But he never made it explicitly clear that you were together?” Lia scoffed. “Fucking loser. All of them, not just him.”

“I dunno…” You shrug again and run your tongue over your lower lip. “They were my friends, at one point or another. That much, I know.” 

You’re watching them together. Watching them cram together at one table in the university’s dining hall. They aren’t boisterous as they usually are. They aren’t laughing and yelling and throwing things at each other. They sit quietly, hardly talking to each other. Every now and again, one of them will look in your direction for a brief moment and lock eyes with you, looking away immediately after. 

But not Mingi.

He didn’t look at you even once. 

You see the sour candy on the table in front of him, unopened and untouched. The blue bag seems to be mocking you, even from across the room. You look away before you feel the tears well up, returning to your table’s new conversation. A party on Friday, one that Ryujin is forcing all of you to go to. 

You don’t see Mingi look up at you as soon as you look away, or the way Seonghwa has to stop him from getting up from the table and approaching you.

TAGS: @kpopnightingale @atinytinaa @vserenia @atinyreads @marsstarxhwa @babiestarrcandy

[tf2-hellhole]

can we get some fluffy tf2 headcannons? giving you full creative liberty over this one! :)

Idk if you meant tf2 x reader headcanons or just general head canons, so I did two sections for each merc; the first point is a general headcanon, the second is X Reader.

sorry this took forEEEEEEEEVER, I was just experiencing burnout and working on a prize for a contest on my server (BTW WE HAVE A NEW DRAWING CONTEST GO CHECK IT OUT)

Scout:

Scout is actually really self-concious about his intelligence. He’s not very bright and he knows it, and it makes him feel horrible. He had flunked out of high school and struggled in most of his core classes. He honestly feels really stupid and he hates when people point it out. But luckily for him, a lot of the other mercs understand what it’s like to be looked down upon and empathize with him. Quite a few of them help him relearn the skills he never mastered in school. Engie helps him with math, Spy sometimes helps him with writing, and even Pyro has him read children’s books to them to improve his reading.

Scout absolutely loves little casual dates. Stuff like going out to eat lunch, going to the movies, maybe just cuddling up in his quarters and watching a movie. He tries to plan one every week. His dream date is taking you back to Boston to meet his family and go to a Red Sox game. But obviously, since you’re both in New Mexico at the time, he’s going to have to shelve that dream for a few years.

Soldier:

Soldier is an excellent raccoon dad. At first, the other mercenaries thought they’d all end up dead by the end of the month when he first found them. But surprisingly, they are are very well cared for. They’re all fed regularly and basically have his entire assigned quarters to themselves. He loves every single one of them dearly, even the ones that hiss and scratch him every time. The raccoons, at least some of them, are kind of like weird, quiet dogs, and actually get along pretty well with most of the other mercenaries.

Soldier is a surprisingly very physically affectionate partner, and he’s not at all opposed to PDA. He loves hand holding, cheek kisses, cuddles, the whole nine yards. Whenever he’s particularly excited, he loves to run up to you, scoop you up into his arms, and press a hard, sloppy kiss to your lips. Of course, he’s careful to not hurt you, but he’s a very intense, emotional guy and he needs to express all that love he has for you!

Pyro:

Pyro is and excellent listener, so they’re a person a lot of the other mercenaries depend on to vent. Demo often comes to them to vent about his emotions, Scout, Sniper, or Medic will rant about what’s bothering them, and even Engineer will talk about his stress. And of course, Pyro doesn’t understand a lot of what is told to them, but they’re still happy to help them feel a little better, and they would happily do it a hundred times over to make their friends feel better.

Pyro has a hobby of baking and making candy/treats, and they love sharing everything they make with you. When they first gave you a treat, you honestly thought it’d be burnt or bad in some other way. But to your surprise, it was amazing! They’re actually and excellent cook, but they just love making sweet things the best. They’ll make you just about anything you could ask for without hesitation, but they’re best at making anything sweet.

Demo:

Demo obviously has the potential to pretty emotional when he’s drunk, there’s no doubt about that. But on the off-chance that he’s sober, he’s actually pretty sweet and considerate. Though he still is a rough-housing joker, he’s much more considerate of his friends’ feelings and has deeper and more meaningful conversations with them. He often likes to go to bars with his friends and co-workers on ceasefire weekends, having lots of fun conversation, drinking together, and generally causing chaos around town.

Demo, to put it simply, doesn’t like himself. He’s critical of everything, from his skills to race, because people have always put him down about them. His mother told him he’s lazy and unskilled too many times to count, just everyone makes fun of his eye, and many have made fun of his skin color. But you make him feel so much better about himself. Just the fact that someone so kind and gorgeous is actually with him makes him feel like he’s not as horrible as he thought. There’s been a couple of times where you’ve accidentally almost brought him to tears with a sweet compliment or show of affection, because he never thought in a million years that someone would love him and care for him like you do. He feels so blessed that he has someone like you.

Heavy:

I know the fandom’s decided that Engie is the Team Mom and makes the food, but I also think that Heavy cooks a lot too. He makes all of his own food, so he often makes a lot of extras to feed the team because a lot of them just eat junk food and Medic’s always complaining about their eating habits. Heavy often takes like half the food for himself (he does have a huge appetite and loves food, so he likes to take a lot) and just boxes up the leftover portions and leaves them in the fridge for the team to take. He says he’s only doing it because they can’t work properly if they’re unhealthy, but he also does it because he cares about their health. A little bit.

At first, you wouldn’t think Heavy’s the most cuddly guy. But surprise, he actually loves giving and receiving physical affection. He just doesn’t show it often out of respect for your boundaries, and doesn’t do it around others. His absolute favorite thing is to cuddle you against his chest. Sometimes it’s when going to sleep, or cuddling on the couch, or maybe just a quick hug. He just loves the feeling of your head resting against his chest and your arms trying (and failing) to wrap around his torso. It makes him feel like you’re safe. Nobody could ever get you when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

Engie:

You’d think Sniper’s the only nature nerd on the team, but Engie absolutely loves the outdoors, as well as animals. It’s because his father would often take him out camping every couple of months. It was often the only time he would get 1-on-1 time with his usually very busy father. So he does love the great outdoors, especially that of his home state. He especially loves animals. He was raised on a farm and helped take care of lots of injured wild animals with his mother. He absolutely loves pets and would like to have many when he retires. His dream is to have is own ranch, with horses and cows and a bunch of dogs and the whole shebang.

Engie absolutely loves playing the guitar, so of course he loves playing for you. He learns all sorts of sweet love songs to sing to you. He’s an excellent player and actually has a pretty decent singing voice (think Johnny Cash, he kinda has that singing style). I hope you like country music, because that’s all he’s going to sing to you until you give him some requests or he finds out your favorite artists or genres. You can tell how happy he is every time he gets to surprise you with a new song he learned, and he’d be a giddy, laughing mess if you sang along with him.

Medic:

You’d think this guy takes horrible care of his birds because of the environment he keeps them in, but his birds are actually exceptionally well cared for. He buys them only the best and most expensive bird food, gives them super high-quality water with vitamins n stuff in it, takes them to the vet regularly, the whole shebang. Yeah they get a little dirty from sitting around in his lab, but he always gives them a little bath at the end of the day to get all the blood and guts off.

Medic is honestly such a playful partner. Of course, around his co-workers he’s a little more professional; he still gives you soft touches, a kiss on the cheek, or a big smile, but that’s about it. In private, however, he’s such a sweetheart. He’s always sweeping you up into big hugs, kissing all over your face, and calling you all sorts of adorable nicknames in a variety of languages. It comes as a surprise, because you’d think he’d be a little more formal, but that’s really only for special occasions. It honestly brings him so much joy to have someone like you by his side, and every day he’s going to make sure you know just how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Sniper:

Sniper is an incredibly independent and self-sufficient man, but he’s also secretly a real mama’s boy. He loves his parents dearly and has a particularly close relationship with his mother. As well as sending them money every month, he sends them all sorts of gifts, letters, postcards, and souvenirs. He also makes sure to call them regularly. He goes home every couple of months to visit them, and one could see that he loves helping around the house and chatting with his parents. His mother loved gardening, so his number-1 favorite thing to do is help her in the garden.

Despite Sniper’s obvious lack of knowledge on self-care, he takes a lot of time out of his day to make sure you are happy, healthy, clean, and well-fed. He doesn’t hound you like a helicopter parent but he likes to ask how you’re feeling, if you’re hungry, stuff like that. It feels nice to know you’re taken care of or take care of you himself. If you switch it around and try to take care of him, however, he’s honestly baffled as to why you would care so much as to make sure he’s doing well. He does absolutely love the affection and attention he gets out of it though, it makes him feel loved.

Spy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I have a head canon that Spy has a dog. Her name is Charlotte, and she’s an elderly Chihuahua. One would think he’d buy a French breed, but he found her out in the pouring rain one day and fell in love with her fluffy ears and spunky personality. She’s now 17 years old, extremely frail, missing most of her teeth, and extremely aggressive to anyone other than Spy, but he loves her dearly and pays for all of her medical expenses without batting an eye. And of course, she expresses her thanks with lots of kisses.

Spy loves dancing, and knows all kinds of dances, from flamenco to ballroom dancing to the Charleston to, canonically, disco. So of course, he’s dying to share all of the most romantic dances he knows with you. He’d love to actually teach you how to dance, rewarding you with kisses every time you finally get a move right and laughing softly when you make mistakes. But in reality, he just wants to use it as an excuse to dance with you against his chest and smother you in affection.

[captainsolare]

Also Sol, I'm here to request for your Event, if I may 🥰🙈 The dice is such an awesome idea 🥰♥️

May I please have a Rhya (Black Clover) fluff, roll 2 times for AU, 3 times for dialogue prompt and 1 time for trope, please? 💘🙈

I hope I got that right, sorry if it isn't right 😂😭 anyway happy writing! And feel free to ignore it if you don't feel like writing it 💓 also happy anniversary and happy birthday Sol darling 🥰♥️

A/N: Hello my lovely!! I hope you enjoy this! I apologize that it's so late :)

Rhya Fluff + Teacher AU! + My friends dared me to ask you out but you actually said yes + “You’re such a dork.”

The faculty lounge was largely empty, save for Rhya, the chemistry teacher, slumped over his desk snoring lightly. You stood in the doorway, sweaty hand clutching the strap of your bag tightly. You sighed quietly, cursing your fellow teacher friends for making you agree to this.

Making your way across the room you stopped at the sleeping man’s desk, heart pounding as you stood over him.

“What’s up Y/N?” He asked, voice gravelly from sleep.

“How did you know it was me?” You blinked, taken aback.

He sat up straighter and stretched, arms shaking as the muscles began to wake up. A finger pointed to the floor, “It was your shoes, they make a distinct sound. That’s how I knew it was you.”

“Oh.” You swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly feeling self conscious as you glanced at your shoes. Do they really make a specific noise?

“Well, did you need something? It’s unlike you to come into the faculty lounge this late.”

You tucked your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels.

“Um… well you see… You can totally say no, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out on a date with me?” You clasped your hands tightly together, half praying he’d say no and put you out of your misery.

Rhya stared at you for a long moment, if he was surprised he didn’t show it, instead he had the same bored expression he usually did.

You braced yourself for the impending apology.

“Sure. Tomorrow night sound good?”

You took a sharp breath, surprised by his answer, “Sure, that sounds great! I can meet you out front after work?”

He nodded, “Sounds good. See you tomorrow Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Rhya.”

You tried not to listen to the sound of your shoes as you walked across the linoleum floor. As you paused in the doorway to risk one last glance into the room, you could have sworn you saw him smile.

-

Your phone landed on your bed with a thump, the ringing tinny as it rang on speakerphone.

“Hey there Y/N! What’s up? Got the hot goss?”

You rolled your eyes, “Would I be calling this late if I didn’t?”

Practically feeling Kasumi smiling on the other end of the line you relented,

“We’re going out tomorrow night.”

Kasumi gasped, “Oh my gosh! He really said yes? That’s so exciting! What are you going to wear? Where are you going? Eek! I’m so excited for you, you’ve had a crush on him for like, forever.”

You took a deep breath, Kasumi was always like this; her mind ran at about a hundred kilometers a minute, fast and incessantly making your life more interesting, sometimes, like tonight, more difficult.

“Yes, he said yes. I don’t know what I’m wearing or where we’re going. And it has not been forever! More like 2 months, if that.”

She tutted at you through the phone, “You know we all see the way you two looked at each other when he came into the lounge for the first time.”

You scrunched your nose at her even though she couldn’t see it, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just hope it goes well.”

Kasumi’s laugh was crackly through the speaker, grating on your already frayed nerves, “Don’t worry! It’ll be fine.” A brief pause, “Well, I’m exhausted, so I’ll catch you tomorrow ‘kay? I expect you to call me with all the juicy details afterwards.”

“Yeah, goodnight Kasumi.”

The call ended with a beep and you collapsed on your bed, her words echoing in your mind.

It’ll be fine.

-

You fussed over your appearance in the staff bathroom mirror. Did you look okay? Where were you going? Did Ryha say yes as a joke? Did he like you too?

The questions ran through your mind like a swarm of bees, a low hum that wouldn’t go away.

Finally, you decided that you could put it off no longer, you needed to go outside and face the man you’d asked out on a date.

He was standing by the school gate, a dress shirt and slacks with a blazer looked wonderful on him. He still had the same bored expression on his face, but it brightened slightly as you approached.

“Hey there, you ready? You look good by the way.”

Your cheeks grew hot at his words, “Yeah, I’m ready. You… look good too.”

He extended his elbow as a gesture for you to take it and you did, hooking your arm gently through the gap.

You walked down the street for a while, light from the street lamps illuminating the pools from the rain earlier in the day.

“So,” You said after a while, “Where are we going this fine evening?”

The corners of Rhya’s lips turned upward, “It’s a secret, but it’ll be great, I promise.”

Finally, you turned a corner and stopped outside a quaint looking restaurant; there wasn’t an obvious name anywhere on the establishment, but Rhya didn’t hesitate to open the door.

You walked inside and were greeted by a woman with pink hair, a flower crown placed lightly on her head.

“Hello! I have special seats reserved for you.”

“Thank you Fana.”

Rhya smiled thankfully, and you were led outside to a patio garden straight out of a fairytale. There were trellises covered in roses of all shades, bird baths and small fountains scattered around.

Fana led you down a stone path to a table in the center of the patio, lanterns hung around tossed delicate light over the space, lending to an atmosphere that felt ethereal.

There was a single tea light candle on the table, along with a single red rose in a vase.

Rhya pulled your chair out for you and you sat down, a menu soon placed in front of you.

Once Fana left you looked around, marvelling at the beautiful garden you were sitting in.

“Rhya, what is this place?”

“This is a little restaurant owned and operated by a few childhood friends of mine.”

Your mouth opened in a small ‘o’ as you looked around once more, seeing the setting in a whole new light.

-

The meal was enjoyable, Ryha was surprisingly good at making conversation once you got comfortable. By the time you were leaving the restaurant, you were grateful that your friends had made you go through this dare.

“Want to go on a walk before we head back to the school?” Rhya asked quietly once you were outside on the street.

You contemplated it, and decided that you weren’t ready for the magic of the night to end just yet. He gave you his arm to take once more and he led you down the city streets.

Wandering aimlessly you ended up in a square, there was a fountain in the center and a musician playing for patrons. It was a charming sight, the lights bathed the square in a soft light. Rhya cocked his head in a silent question and you nodded, making your way to the small crowd around the musician.

The musician’s assistant caught sight of you and smiled brightly, “Does the lovely couple want to dance?”

Both you and Rhya faltered, cheeks warm from being called out in front of a crowd and at the assumption that you were a couple. Rhya recovered quickly though and before you knew it he was extending a hand for you to dance with him.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, and dancing with him was easy. With several cheers from the crowd you danced to a few songs, hearts thrumming from the close contact.

-

Out of breath from dancing, you laughed and chatted on your way back to the school, hands barely brushing as you walked.

The parking lot was empty save for your cars. Your keys were in your hands but you were both still, not wanting to leave just yet.

Rhya caught your lingering gaze and you mustered up the courage to speak.

“Hey Rhya, would you maybe want to go out again?” You asked, hoping your voice didn’t betray just how hopeful you were.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I think we have a lot of chemistry.”

You smiled, then it dawned on you, “Rhya did you just--- did you just make a dad joke?”

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Maybe I did.”

You rolled your eyes, “Gosh, you’re such a dork.”

Rhya cocked his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, “Yeah, but I could be your dork.”

Giggling, you gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, “Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home safe.”

“You too Y/N.”

As you drove away, Rhya stared after your car, fingertips lingering on the spot you had kissed.

“Wow.” Was all he could manage to whisper.

[oreoambitions]

Part 8 of 12

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Ao3

Lena sits in the passenger seat of her own car with the window rolled down, listening to some old tune from the 60's tumbling so softly out of the speakers she almost can't quite catch it. The forest passes by at a pace that would feel unbearably slow if she were the one behind the wheel. Which, of course, is precisely why she isn't.

Alex has gone after Kara. That much was inevitable the moment Kara left the wedding ceremony, the moment Sam's arms closed around Lena to hold her up, the moment Clark cocked his head to one side and announced quietly that Kara was in the air. Not just storming off then; good and properly leaving. Alex was grim faced and apologetic and lingered just long enough to be sure that Lena was going to be okay.

"I'm fine," Lena said what felt like a hundred thousand times.

"You're not," Sam replied, faithfully, tirelessly.

And Lena wasn't. But it didn't feel like there was any reason to talk about it.

Nia stayed behind to make sure everything was in order at the cabin before checkout in the morning. Sam went with Alex, and that felt inevitable too. She claimed it was for Alex's comfort, but Lena recognized the telltale signs of upset in the set of Sam's shoulders, in the crease of her brow, and she knew that in truth it was the other way around. Sam and Kara have grown close these past few months; the sudden rift between the two of them is painful for Sam and Lena knows it.

But Sam wouldn't have gone if it'd meant leaving Lena alone, which is how Lena has come to be seated beside a pensive Clark, traveling at precisely the speed limit down a winding mountain road, headed for home.

Clark drums his fingers on the steering wheel, not quite in time with the music, his gaze lingering on Lena for long enough that she'd be snapping at him to keep his eyes on the road if he were anyone else. Lena turns her face into the wind and fidgets in silence.

"Kara..." Clark begins. He drums his fingers over the steering wheel again. It's been half an hour of empty, tense quiet between the two of them, and Lena can't fathom why they're deviating from that uncomfortable but predictable norm now. "She's a very religious person," Clark says.

The single, soft note of laughter that comes out of Lena surprises them both. "I know," she replies. How could she not know something like that? Something as inherent to Kara as blonde hair and blue eyes and a kindness deeper than the sea.

"On Krypton we believed that speech itself was a gift from Rao, that the language itself was sacred."

Lena knows this too, wonders idly whether Krpyton always had one language or if there's an unspoken history of conquest there, says nothing as they trundle across an old single lane bridge over a ravine that might once have been a river, might be a river again when the drought passes.

Clark is still speaking. "There's no hard and fast rule about sharing the Book of Rao with the uninitiated - all of Krypton was initiated, you understand, so there was no need for a rule - but there was always a certain guardedness about it around alien visitors, even back then. And now that Argo is the last bastion of our civilization, folks are feeling more guarded than before. The sacred texts were Rao's gift to us. There was a big debate among the council about whether even Sam and Ruby should be taught, as outsiders."

"Was there a big debate about you?" The words are out of Lena's mouth before she can really think about them. Clark glances at her sideways and she looks away.

"The House of El is an important noble family," he says at last. His voice sounds tired.

"I remember. That's why they want Kara to marry that boy from Argo."

"Wanted. She belongs to you now; nothing they can do about that."

Lena shivers in spite of herself. She runs her thumb thoughtfully over her wedding bracelet, rolls the broken thread between her fingers. Mixed in with the guilt and the sadness is a streak of satisfaction: no one on Argo can force Kara to leave Earth behind now, and no one can force her to marry a stranger. She tries not to wonder whether Kara considers being bound to her just as distasteful.

"She doesn't think I understood what I said to her at the ceremony. What I was doing," Lena says. It isn't a question but she still hopes Clark will answer her, will tell her that she's wrong, will provide some other explanation. She's disappointed when he remains silent. "She thinks I copied her traditions out of a book as a silly... as an aesthetic. She thinks I played dress-up with something sacred, and she blames Sam."

Clark glances at her again. "But you didn't. I would have put a stop to this days ago if I'd thought you were taking this any less seriously than Kara."

"But Kara doesn't know that."

"She doesn't," Clark agrees. And then, "I'm sorry. I know how Kara feels about the Book, and maybe I should have warned you off. But I thought... I thought she would see how you felt about her, and it would ease things."

Lena's stomach flips. She runs her thumb over the wedding band again, her eyes far away. The woods are fading now. Soon it will be the hills, and then the suburbs, and then the city. The everyday bustle of the corporate world will assert itself and Lena will have to be able to set this all aside, to sweep it into the corners of her life where it isn't in the way. As if Kara could ever be in the way. As if Lena could ever move a feeling as heavy as this out of center stage. She has a feeling she's going to do a lot of drinking tonight.

"I'm going to prove to her that I meant those vows," she says. It's her turn to glance at Clark then, gauging his reaction. To her surprise, there's the ghost of a smile across his lips.

"Of course," he replies. "I wouldn't expect anything less. If you- Kara describes you as a very thorough person; you've never given me reason to believe otherwise."

Lena inclines her head. You have to be thorough to survive Lilian and Lex; loose strings tend to become weapons in their hands. She fiddles with the all too real loose string on her wrist. "Do I do something with this?"

"What? No. That- You can just throw that away. Any thorough understanding of a topic must be grounded in context. To take something out of its context is to risk subverting its meaning." He drums his fingers across the steering wheel again, and Lena tries not to squirm, tries not to anticipate where this is going. "We're not an evangelical people; you can't convert someone to our religion; you were either born in the light of Rao or you weren't."

Lena raises her eyebrows. "No one is born in the light of Rao anymore. What does that mean for your religion?"

Clark opens his mouth as if to answer, frowns, closes it again. "That's a terrifying thought and a conversation for another time. What I'm trying to say is there's no rule against giving you the Book of Rao just as there's no precedent for it. So if you'd like a copy... Sam would have to help you read it, or I could, if you'd be comfortable. But-"

"It should be Kara," Lena interrupts.

"Sorry?"

"If I ever read the Book of Rao, it should be with Kara. To do otherwise feels... It feels like going behind her back." There's a long silence between them, and then Lena adds, "But I would love to have a copy. For when she's ready. Thank you."

"Of course. You're family; the Book belongs to you as much as it does to me, if you want it."

Lena turns the word 'family' over in her mind. She tugs the thread from her wedding band, balls it up between her fingers, tucks it into the handle pocket of the passenger's side door. Loose ends. "We've never talked about the history between your family and mine."

Clark doesn't glance at her this time. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road, his jaw set, and Lena wonders which of a thousand awful encounters with Lex he's recalling now. And then he takes a deep breath and the tension bleeds from his expression. "We don't have to talk about it," he says. "Kara made it clear a long time ago that you weren't like the others. And I know we still have a long road ahead of us getting to know one another, but Lena, I don't see Lex when I look at you."

"Thank you," Lena whispers.

Clark reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. "And there is no 'your family and mine' anymore. I mean it. Kara and I are the same blood. You and Kara are the same blood. By the transitive property..."

"A = C," Lena says, chuckling to cover the lump that has suddenly risen in her throat. "Thank you for the refresher on elementary algebra."

"Just doing my part," Clark says with a chuckle of his own. The forest has become shrubbery, the hills rising deep and gold around them, dotted here and there with wildflowers. "She loves you, you know," Clark says. As though it were a simple thing. As though he were commenting on the weather.

Lena reaches for the stereo to turn up a song she doesn't recognize. "This one is one of my favorites," she tells him, her voice breaking just a little, and she turns her face again into the wind. That ghost of a smile flickers across Clark's features, and he clicks the volume up a few ticks higher.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

like lemongrass and sleep; chapter 1/?

summary: "Julie was 5 years old and overflowing with spirit when her teacher sat her beside the spitfire Flynn Miller. She remembers taking one look at this girl’s wild smile and neatly braided curls and deciding that she wanted to be able to look at her every single day for the rest of her life." or, Julynn childhood best friends to lovers

word count: 1,516

warnings: none

notes: Flynn will be using she/her pronouns for the first chapter or so, cause they haven't started thinking about gender or come out yet.

---

Julie was 5 years old and overflowing with spirit when her teacher sat her beside the spitfire Flynn Miller. She remembers taking one look at this girl’s wild smile and neatly braided curls and deciding that she wanted to be able to look at her every single day for the rest of her life. It was quite the profound realization, but at the time, she didn’t really care to recognize the depth of it, only that she had found herself a best friend and she had to show Flynn the tree in her backyard. And so that was that, they were attached at the hip and 5 years flew by in a blur of scraped knees and pinkie promises and friendship bracelets and breathless laughter.

Flynn swung her neon-bandaid covered legs over the highest tree branch and grinned down at Julie with a sparkle in her eyes. “I win!” She cried giddily. “That’s-”

“3 for you and none for me,” Julie finished with a pout, hoisting herself up to join Flynn and wrinkling her nose at the height. “I still won at uno.”

“Because it’s a stupid game!” Flynn protested. “You can’t win at a game that’s all luck!” She threw her hands in the air and narrowly avoided going careening off the branch.

The sun was slowly setting and Julie knew dinnertime was fast approaching, the scent of her mom’s cooking wafting in from the back door that’s been left open (she’ll worry about that later when she gets mosquito bites in her sleep.) Julie beamed up at the pink sky and shoved Flynn lightly. “Ms. Nelson said there’s gonna be a new student next week.”

“I hope it’s not a boy,” Flynn replied. “Boys are gross.” She picked at a piece of bark before tossing it over the fence and watching with a giggle as it landed in the neighbors pool. She swung backwards until she was hanging off the branch by her legs, her curls bouncing slightly as she swayed back and forth. Julie bit her lip anxiously, this was the exact thing that got Flynn sent home from the hospital with a bright red cast in 2nd grade. Granted, she wasn’t too bothered by it, because having a broken arm in 2nd grade means you’re the most popular kid in the school for at least 2 months, and she didn’t have to write a thing while it was still healing. But, still.

Flynn swung back up, wobbling slightly, and blew at the loose hair hanging in her eyes. “Ha, didn’t break my arm that time!” She exclaimed pridefully. Julie raised an eyebrow.

“The new kid's name is Alex Mercer.”

Flynn’s eyes widened and she quickly took to mouthing the alphabet. “Oh good, we’ll still be next to each other.”

“Hmm, I’d change my last name if we got separated,” Julie said, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You mean it?” Flynn asked, beaming.

“100 percent. No one can split up double trouble.” Julie held out her pinkie to prove it and Flynn giggled, locking their fingers together.

There was a sort of childhood wonder hanging in the air, like pixie dust. It’s strange, how as children, no one seems to recognize it. They’ll sit perched on the highest branch without a care in the world, until the streetlights turn on. And the whole world will go silent before midnight, curled up in tattered sleeping bags in the living room with a flickering night light to ward off ghosts. It was all so awfully simple.

---

Alex Mercer was lanky and blond and had a worried crease between his eyebrows that your average 10 year old doesn’t tend to have. He clutched a baggy, too-big fannypack to his chest, and Julie desperately wanted to know what was in it. Surely it had to be something interesting; maybe he was a wizard and that was where he kept all his potions and spellbooks. Flynn was incredibly disappointed that the new student was a boy, but still let herself be dragged over to him at recess, where he was sat anxiously on the curb, fiddling with the hem of his loose pink hoodie that was way too warm for September in LA.

“Hello!” Julie pulled Flynn down with her and sat beside Alex. “I like your bag.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You can tell me if it there’s a magic wand in there.” Alex only shook his head.

“No there’s just”- he opened the zipper and showed her the quite disappointing contents- “tissues and- and my inhaler.”

“And a pen.” Flynn pointed out. She reached in and grabbed the pen, clicking it gleefully. “It’s pink.”

Alex flushed slightly. “Uh yea…”

“Cool!” Flynn poked Julie with the end of the pen and laughed. Julie snatched it from her hand with a stern look.

“It’s a very nice pen,” Julie said, handing it back to Alex. “I like gel pens, they write so much smoother.” She held out her hand the way Carrie’s dad, Trevor, told her to do, because it was good manners. “I’m Julie.” Alex took her hand and shook it gingerly.

Alex was, as Julie quickly learned, a mess of way too much anxiety than should be able to fit in one person. He’d moved last week, and it wasn’t much of a change, but enough that he had to switch schools. He had three best friends back at his old school (Luke, Reggie, and Bobby) that would be going to their same middle school, his favorite color was pink, and he liked to dance. These are all things that Julie filed away in her mind. She liked to remember things about people, like how Carrie hated grape candy, and Flynn had the prettiest smile of anyone Julie knew. Remembering things about people meant you cared, and they would stick around.

---

It doesn’t snow in LA. It hadn’t snowed in LA since 1962 and the only time Julie had seen it was the winter she was six and her family went up to Oregon for a week. But one crisp December morning in 2014, Julie rolled out of bed and pressed her face to the fogged over window only to find a blanket of fresh white snow covering everything as far as the eye could see. She hardly had her coat on before she was out the door, wriggling from her mother’s grasp because “Mom it’s snowing! I don’t need breakfast!” Donning purple rainboots and a matching wool scarf that was way too long and dragged behind her as she ran, Julie bolted to Flynn’s house as fast as her legs could carry her, clad in three layers of jeans.

There was snow! Falling in big fat flakes and landing on the trees and the tops of houses and Julie’s hat. She had to squint a bit, as the snow melted on her glasses and blurred her vision, but it was more than worth it. Julie reached Flynn’s house in a flurry of mismatched winter clothes and wild eyes, and Flynn was already on the porch, bouncing impatiently as her dad wrapped a thick scarf around her neck.

“Hi Mr. Miller!” Julie chirped with an enthusiastic wave. Flynn’s dad waved back before turning to zip up Flynn’s bulky coat.

“Daaaad,” Flynn whined, scratching at the knitted hat covering her ears. “Can I please go into the snow now?”

“Yes Flynn,” he sighed, patting her atop the head once for good measure. “Be careful-”

“Bye dad!”

“Bye Mr. Miller!”

“Let’s goooo!”

It was as if the whole world was holding it’s breath, capturing Julie’s little suburban town in a bubble. Julie grasped Flynn’s mittened hand and dragged her through the blanketed streets, with a laugh perpetually on the tip of her tongue. There were snowflakes in her eye lashes and sticking to the top of her hat like velcro. Stumbling into the field by the school, Julie swung Flynn around in a circle, both of them shrieking with uncontained laughter, heads held to the gray sky. She didn’t know it at the time, but this moment would forever live in a corner of Julie’s mind. The place where she sets aside things she doesn’t want to forget; things like Flynn’s 10th birthday and the days when she’d sit at the piano with her head on her mom’s shoulders and hum along to songs she’s heard a hundred times and could listen to a hundred more.

Julie collapsed into the snow with a deep exhale and an infectious grin, Flynn quickly following suit. “Hey Flynn?”

“Yea.”

“Do you think that if I close my eyes I’ll wake up in Narnia?” Julie asked, her voice soft and full of wonder.

“Aren’t you supposed to walk through a wardrobe?”

Julie shrugged. “Maybe.”

Flynn hummed, mulling it over for a minute. “Sure. But only if I get to come with.”

“Of course, stupid.” With a lopsided smile, Julie intertwined their pinkies and shut her eyes. Maybe she would wake up in Narnia, but she would rather stay here if it meant Flynn was next to her.

---

I really wanted this chapter to be longer but like, I felt like this was a good place to leave off. I hope you liked it! comment or send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list! :)))

[pinkpetalwaterimagine]

On the edge... (Charlie Gillespie) part 1

A/N : So sorry guys, I’m posting it again here, anyway enjoy. Don’t hesitate to point out any mistakes. 

Bonne lecture ❤️

Summary : It’s not that you are insecure but seing Charlie and the onscreen chemistry he has with Madison is making you uncomfortable. And it obviously lead to a fight.

Word count : 2,1 k  

Somehow you had passed your exam with a flying hand and you were ready to rest during your vacations. Vacations that were obviously well deserved. Charlie, your boyfriend, was currently shooting with Kenny Ortega in Vancouver. Living quite far from there you could not go see Charlie every other weekend. However you decided to go on set with everyone during your vacations. 

You have already met the whole crew, they were really nice to you, and immediately you felt included in there tight knit group. 

You were just so excited to see Charlie after months of separation. You had missed him just as much as he had missed you. 

He did not know you were coming to surprise him, it was supposed to be, well, a surprise. You took an uber to Charlie and Owen’s apartment. Those boys really hide their key under their doormat. Do they know that this is dangerous ? 

You enter the flat and were met with silence, the boys might still be at the studio or filming or whatever actors do. You took time to take a long shower to wash off the sweat from the flight. You even took a small nap to regenerate. 

You heard loud voices in the hall and you just knew that one of the voices belonged to your boyfriend. A bright smile already on your lips as you waited for him to enter his house. Owen was the first one to acknowledge you. 

« Y/N ! How are you doing ! What are you doing here ? We are so happy to see you ! » he embraced you in a hug, not for too long because Charlie pulled him off of you. 

He did not say anything he just took you in his arms, for a long time, kissing the top of your head again and again. When he released you just a bit, he tilted his head and kissed you like it has been a long time you havent seen him. But he has been a long time and oh how you craved his soft and rosy lips. The others were doing anything but looking at you, it wasn’t that they were embarrassed it’s just that this was an intimate moment that the two of you hadn’t since a long time and they wanted to respect at least a bit of your privacy. Only Charlie and you were standing in the hall anymore, the others were already on the couch or on the floor, ready for movie night. 

« I missed you so much, I am so happy you are here, you can’t even imagine » Charlie said whispering in your ear, sending chills down your spine. 

«  I missed you too, that’s why I’m here after all. » you chuckled in the crook of his neck. 

He led you to the living room with all the others, never leaving you. He always had a hand on the small of your back, or on your thigh. It has been such a long time since you have seen each other that he didn’t want to miss a single thing about you.   

You said hello to everyone, happy those familiar faces again. You were just ready to chill with everyone. 

You were about to sit on the couch next Owen and Jeremy, when you felt a pair of hands grabbing your hips and making you sit on Charlie’s lap. 

« Where do you think you’re going » you giggled at his act. 

They were something about Charlie that always make you giggle or blush and more generally acting like a schoolgirl. You swear sometimes you think his goal is to make you blush so much that you were as red as a tomato. But you loved your goofy, cute man. 

« Thank you Y/N for being here ! Really, we can’t hear Charlie complaining about not seeing you or how much he misses you. » Jeremy said and Charlie has a deep shade of red on his cheeks. 

You thought he was really cute to go and talk about how much he misses you. You know that he wasn’t just on your part that those months of being apart were hard. The night goes on and the smile you had never left your lips. Charlie had his arms wrapped around your waist the whole time, and he was always making quiet comments about the movie you were watching or just kissing you under the ear and so on. `

Everyone fell asleep in uncomfortable positions and the next morning all of them has knots in their back. 

« Ok guys, you need to leave or you’re going to be late on set ! » you exclaimed trying to wake all of those people but no one moved. « C’mon guys, you need to get moving » as you were trying to shake them all up, your arm was pulled by Charlie and you fell on him. He had still his eyes closed even though he was smirking. 

« Do you want to come with us on set ? » Charlie asked with a groggy voice. 

«  Yes ! » 

« You just waited for me to ask you right ? » you blushed at his words. You didn’t want to impose your presence to the staff and all the actors. 

The day you decided to join all of your friends on set, they had to film the scene between Charlie and Madi where they sang perfect harmony. You knew that supposedly nothing was going on between them, but it was just the way Luke looked at Julie. You tried to convince yourself that this was nothing, it was just on-screen chemistry nothing more. But they both looked so pretty and handsome and you couldn’t not feel bad about yourself. 

At the end of the scene everyone clapped and congratulated the both actors who executed perfectly the routine. Charlie made Madi spin, both giggling. You heart broke a little but you tried to not let it shows. Everyone was so cheerful and happy. 

You put on a fake smile and got on with the day. You hung around makeup and costumes and tried to help as much as you could, from setting the buffet for everyone to painting some decors. 

————————————

Everyday for a week, you accompanied the band to the studio, but as the days goes by you couldn’t not notice the constant banter between Charlie and Madi. It wasn’t that you were jealous or anything, of course he was « allowed » to speak to other girls. It’s just that they seemed to understand each other on a deeper level. On a music level that you could never understand. You could sing under the shower but you didn’t knew how to play any instruments or writing any lyrics. 

« Don’t you think that this song is such a killer song ?! » asked Owen, excited, almost crushing you on the couch where you rested.

« Hum ? Which one ? Even though they’re all amazing! » 

«  Well the one Charlie and Madi wrote together » you looked at him in disbelief. « Yeah, perfect harmony ! » 

A whirlwind of thoughts came into your mind and made your insecurities come back at full speed. 

« Oh… no I did not know that. » you said quietly, like if you spoke too loud you would break down in tears. And Owen saw right through you. 

« Are you okay ? You know that it is just a song ? » 

« Yeah, yes I know, it’s just since this morning I’m not feeling good. I think I’m going to head back to the house. If Charlie asks … » you topped mid-sentence, was he really going to ask ? 

You couldn't answered that question being a hundred percent sure. 

You took your stuff and left the studio. 

Charlie just ended another scene and went to look for you. « hey Owen ? Have you seen Y/N ? » he asked a bit worried and with a small frown on his forehead. 

« She went back, said she didn’t felt well » 

Well that’s weird, thought Charlie. She would've told him if she wasn’t feeling well. He shook his head and focus on the next scene he had to play before heading back home. 

You were laying on your guys bed, crying your eyes out not really knowing why they were so much waterfalls. 

You heard the front door open and you recognized the voices of the three boys that played the ghosts. You quickly shut your eyes, trying to make Charlie believe you were asleep. 

Charlie entered the room and saw the girl he loved with her head buried in a pillow, she seemed asleep. He sighed and closed the door on his way out. He didn’t understand why all of a sudden you were so cold to him. He didn’t remember having done something bad or wrong. He tried to replay in his mind everything that happened that week without founding anything. 

« Are you alright ? » asked Jeremy concerned at the face his friend was making. 

« Yeah, it’s just I don’t know why Y/N is giving me the cold shoulder. » he sighed, his head between his hands. 

After a few hours of hiding in the room, you decided to fix yourself, make somehow your eyes a little less puffy. You tried to pass by the living room without noise, not ready to confront the boys or anyone for that matter. 

You thought you had made it to the kitchen without making your presence known. But as you closed the fridge’s door and turned towards the table you were faced with Charlie’s hazel eyes. 

« How are you ? » he asked softly, you felt your throat tightened. « Fine » you croaked. 

He knew they were something wrong. 

«  You know you can talk to me, I’m here babe » Charlie mumbled. You tried avoiding his gaze. He stepped softly towards you, almost chest to chest. 

« I don’t want to talk about it » you muttered. « well I think we have to. You have that sad look in your eyes and it saddens me ! » 

« I don’t want to do this now, the boys are just in the living room ! » 

« But I want to help you, let me help you! » his voice was raising higher and higher. 

« Ne fais pas ça maintenant s’il te plait » (don’t do this now) you exclaimed in French so that the boys wouldn’t understand what was happening, even if the knew that you were fighting, no need to be a genius to realize that. 

« Oh so now we are talking French ?! Why ?! You don’t want our friends to know that we are not this perfect little couple they think we are ! » Charlie snapped. 

« Ne m’humilie pas de la sorte ! Je pense que tu l’as déjà assez fait cette semaine! » (don’t humiliate me like that, you already did it enough all week) you seeped. Your head was beginning to spin from all the crying and the shouting didn’t help. 

« Mais qu’est ce que tu racontes bon sang! » (what are you talking about for god’s sakes) Charlie spat, his Canadian accent resurrecting strongly. 

« Okay, you want to know what I’m talking about ? I’m talking about you and Madison, I know that I should not be jealous but you are so close to her via music and filming and so close to her as well as in not far away. How do you expect for me to not see that. To not see the chemistry you two has on screen ?! » You were between yelling and sobbing uncontrollably. Charlie stayed silent for a moment not knowing what to answer to this. 

« You know, and I’ve told you countless of times that we are nothing more than friends ! She is young » Charlie exclaimed 

« Oh because if she was older, you would definitely take her on a date ?! » you exclaimed, hurt by his words. The both of you stayed silent for a bit of time. A heavy silence. 

« Of course not, you’re the one I like. The only one I love. Yes, we are not together 24/7, but I love you Y/N. No one else but you, why can’t you see that ? » Charlie insisted, his hair tugging at his now shorter hair. 

« I think I should go back for a bit. I’ll see you later » you said in a breath. 

« Dont do this to me, don't do this to me Y/N! I’m begging you » he pleaded. 

You knew you had to get away for a bit of time, you didn’t knew if your relationship could hold after this full blown out but you’ll live. At least you hoped. You ran straight into Charlie’s room and packed your bags not meeting the boys gazed. They heard everything, and it pained you to have them involved in such a fight. 

As soon as you slammed the door of the bedroom, the boys ran straight into the kitchen, they found Charlie on the barstool looking down at his hands, a single tear running down his cheek. 

They didn’t knew what to say, are you okay seemed a bit insensitive after what they all heard. They took a sit next to him and pat his back. Sometimes a small gesture is worth a million words. Charlie knew that he will always has his friends, they were like family, but so was Y/N. But apparently not anymore.

[hunxi-guilai]

I loved your proposed names for Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren! I was wondering if you have any thoughts about potential names for Madam Lan? I realised the character 水 used to be a common surname, and then started spiralling about thematically appropriate binomes like 山洪 and 汛期 and 水灾... I would love to hear your take on what you'd name Madam Lan, and what title she might have had before she was married!

HELLO THERE! I have been sitting on your ask for SO LONG because I’ve been thinking really hard about it, I promise

so the tricky thing with coming up with a name for Madam Lan is that we have, like, no information to go off of. At least when I was playing around with titles / courtesy names for Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren, I had a little bit to go on -- I could use Qingheng-jun’s title as a template for Lan Qiren’s, and Lan Qiren’s courtesy name as a template for Qingheng-jun’s.

Yeah, um, Mama Lan has none of that, so I’m basically plucking a name out of thin air for her.

THE TL;DR OF THIS POST:

Title(s): 湛露散人 / Zhanlu-sanren -and- 蓝夫人 Lan-furen / Madam Lan

Courtesy Name: 荆玉飞 Jing Yufei

Personal Name: 荆晞 Jing Xi

So! Thematic resonance! Anon has made excellent suggestions above with 山洪 shanhong / flash flood, 汛期 xunqi / flood season, and 水灾 shuizai / flood (or, if we want to get literal, ‘water disaster’) -- in that vein, I started playing around on Pleco looking for characters with drought-like valences. Since the Lans as so deeply associated with water, I figured having Mama Lan associated with dryness/drought could be, y’know, symbolically complementary or something like that.

I stumbled across the character 晞 xi, which is glossed as ‘dry.’ Grand. It is also glossed as ‘the dawn,’ as in 东方未晞 dongfangweixi / the dawn has not yet broken over the eastern sky and I--

How could I resist? That would make Lan Xichen’s courtesy name a subtle (tbh not so subtle?) reference to his mother’s name -- both 晞 xi and 曦 xi have meanings associated with the dawn, and are actually the exact same sound and tone. 

Okay! With a single anchor point of 晞 xi, I went looking for poems with that character, and found 《鹧鸪天·晓日初开露未晞》by Song Dynasty poet 叶梦得 Ye Mengde：

晓日初开露未晞。夕烟轻散雨还微。暗摇绿雾游鯈戏，斜映红云属玉飞。情脉脉，恨依依。沙边空见棹船归。何人解舞新声曲，一试纤腰六尺围。

not gonna translate the whole poem at this moment, but the relevant lines are these two:

晓日初开露未晞 / dawn sun, just risen -- the dew has yet to dry

[...]

斜映红云属玉飞 / setting sun, red clouds, like flying jade

玉飞 yufei / flying jade just sounds lovely, and various references to jade are pretty popular in naming (in fact the 琼 qiong of 温琼林 Wen Qionglin means ‘fine jade’), so that’s how I got to Mama Lan’s courtesy name.

I realize I haven’t talked about Mama Lan’s surname yet -- for that, I looked up the 《百家姓》Baijiaxing, aka the “Hundred Surnames.” It’s a classical text that’s just a... list of all the most common surnames, so I scanned through them until 荆 jing caught my eye. 

荆 jing, when it’s not being a surname, is often associated with botanical meanings (you can spot the grass radical on top of it); 荆棘 jingji refers to thorny plants, like thistles (this character also has a 利刀旁 a knife radical in it). I loved the plant symbolism of this surname because 1) again, a nod to the general foliage/marshiness of Lan Xichen’s title, Zewu-jun, and 2) the suggestion that this rose has thorns (can confirm it does. If there’s one thing we know about Mama Lan’s biography, it’s murder).

BUT ALSO the character 荆 jing is a classical allusion to only the most famous assassin in all of Chinese history, 荆轲 Jing Ke from the 《史记·刺客列传》 “Biographies of the Assassin-Retainers” in the Records of the Grand Historian, which I will not shut up about. I’m not going to go in on assassin literature at this moment, but I was tickled to think about again, certain narrative parallels present.

And lastly, a made-up title for Mama Lan... I kept clicking around on the baidu-baike page for 晞, which led me to a discovery of a 《诗经》 Shijing / Classic of Odes poem called  《湛露》Zhanlu / The Crystal Dew or The Heavy Dew depending on which reading of 湛 zhan you’re rolling with. And if I was powerless to resist the Lan Xichen reference earlier, I was even more incapable of resisting the fact that the character 湛 zhan, here, is the zhan of 蓝湛 Lan Zhan. I’m walking a dangerous line here, because naming someone after someone else is Not Done in Chinese culture, but I’m hedging my bets because this is Mama Lan’s title, not her actual name. It's not ideal, but listen -- I looked at James Legge’s translation of the first two lines, and tell me you don’t see the resonances:

湛湛露斯、/ Heavy lies the dew;

匪陽不晞。/ Nothing but the sun can dry it.

we’re all seeing this, right??? the narrative implications??? we’re all having feelings about bb!Lan Wangji now, right???

I went ahead and assumed that Mama Lan was a wandering cultivator, and gave her the -sanren title, which gets us to 湛露散人 Zhanlu-sanren.

ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING:

Title(s): 湛露散人 / Zhanlu-sanren -and- 蓝夫人 Lan-furen / Madam Lan

Courtesy Name: 荆玉飞 Jing Yufei

Personal Name: 荆晞 Jing Xi

[sweeterthankarma]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Druck | SKAM (Germany) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fatou Jallow/Kieu My Vu Characters: Fatou Jallow, Kieu My Vu Additional Tags: S6E10: Bis in die Unendlichkeit?, Post Mittwoch 18:31, more healthy communication between kieutou, aka what we deserved in canon Summary:

“I wanted you from the day I met you. Really,” Fatou tells her, and she wonders how many times she’s going to have to say it for Kieu My to get it, how many old texts between her the Cash Queens are going to have to be dug up, displayed as half-ashamed, half-victorious evidence of her infatuation. “You were the only one on my mind, all the time. From the very beginning.” “You were too, you know,” Kieu My says.

Title comes from the song "Worst Behavior" by Ariana Grande.

I adore these two so much! If you enjoyed this fic, please let me know, comments and kudos make my day!

     “I hated fighting with you,” Fatou says. It’s barely audible, just a murmur in a room robbed of sensory indicators— nearly pitch black, with a white noise fan to the left of the bed, a radiator pumping heat in the diagonal, perched between a bookshelf and a closet. Fatou wonders if it’s intentional, meant to drown out the sounds; if Kieu My’s parents are home, if they know anything about her. That’s a question for another time. 

     “I forgot what we were even fighting about after a while.”

Kieu My doesn’t react, not right away, but Fatou knows she hears her both times she speaks. Tonight, she’s heard her more than ever, perhaps more than anyone ever has, and Fatou is hoping, praying, willing with all of her might that that statement alone will remain true for a long time to come.

Kieu My’s heartbeat is steady against Fatou’s ear, slow; her chest smooth, heated, bare. When Fatou nods, mostly to herself, Kieu My feels it, her chin bobbing with the movement of Fatou’s head beneath it. 

     “But I think at the time, we needed to be on our own, to process things. A lot was happening, you know?”

Kieu My chews her lower lip, looks up at the ceiling. Fatou doesn’t have to look at her to know this. She sees it even when she closes her eyes, lets the darkness of the room blend into the blank shield her eyelids provide, so similar that when she opens them, there’s no way to even tell the difference. Kieu My is all new, rapturous, something to be discovered, but just the same, Fatou knows her well. She wonders, distantly, if Kieu My knows her tics and habits too, if she can predict minute reactions seconds before they happen, almost like second nature. A part of her doesn’t want to know the answer; another part of her wants Kieu My to know every single piece of her, every ounce of spirit and soul, chopped up and served for her observation alone, her entertainment.

     “But not anymore,” Fatou finishes, and it’s palpable: Kieu My’s exhale. Her relief. 

It takes some maneuvering, some twisting of blankets and bedsheets and a shove of a pillow that somehow got caught under her armpit, but then Fatou is on her stomach, a leg slung across Kieu My’s splayed thighs. She keeps her eyes on her, watching, and Kieu My is reluctant, wavering, when she responds, “I was afraid you didn’t want me anymore.”

Fatou frowns. Doesn’t know how to react, what to do, except spit out the only truth she knows: “I always wanted you.”

Fatou isn’t sure what time it is. Two AM, maybe, maybe earlier or maybe far later. Time is bending in Kieu My’s room, becoming a clandestine oasis, defying physics, shifting just for them. She’s thankful for it, knows it’s working in her favor either way, especially when Kieu My hums beside her. Fatou knows what that means, can interpret it like broken English that’s slowly finding its way into a pile of knowledge in her brain marked “I get this”: Kieu My is thankful, honored, a little bit indignantly disbelieving. 

     “It’s true,” Fatou says. She tightens the hook of her knee, her ankle around Kieu My’s legs. Irritation brews in the pit of her stomach, primarily directed at herself because Kieu My doesn’t get it, Kieu My doesn’t know—  

     “I wanted you from the day I met you.”

This time, from this position, Fatou can see it happen as Kieu My worries her lower lip, twists minutely under Fatou’s weight. Not protesting, not leaving, just reacting.

Fatou’s hand breaks away from its position, sandwiched between the two of them and now dangerously close to being encompassed by pins and needles, falling asleep. She finds Kieu My’s face, turns it toward her. Kieu My doesn’t protest, not this time.

     “Really,” Fatou tells her, and she wonders how many times she’s going to have to say it for Kieu My to get it, how many old texts between her the Cash Queens are going to have to be dug up, displayed as half-ashamed, half-victorious evidence of her infatuation. “You were the only one on my mind, all the time. From the very beginning.”

     “You were too, you know,” Kieu My says.

It surprises Fatou. It’s not the kind of conversational turn that she was expecting— Kieu My’s hand is pressed against the arch of her spine, snaking up the lower seam of her bralette— and suddenly the fan in the corner seems ten times louder, almost deafening.

Fatou doesn’t mean to sound so meek when she replies, “really?”

Kieu My laughs, full-on and vibrant, and Fatou can’t help it, she’s sitting upright, wide awake and giving Kieu My a glare she won’t be able to decipher. Damn the dark, Fatou thinks, why doesn’t Kieu My own a nightlight or something, because she wants to see this now, wants to see everything. She could before, back when the moon was lower in the sky and traffic passed by consistently. Now, she finds Kieu My’s knee under her clasped hands, an unintentional touch but certainly not one she’s going to pull away from under any circumstances, and uses her imagination to see everything she wants to, everything she knows is there. 

In the heavy seconds that follow— it can’t be more than six, but Fatou swears it feels like sixty— she’s almost expecting Kieu My to abandon the idea she’d brought up altogether, to give up talking and kiss Fatou until she’s dizzy instead.

(Or maybe rush off to the bathroom, come back with water and snacks— two things that she had done earlier when Fatou had asked, love-drunk, if Ismail had ever brought up the top or bottom discourse to her as well. To be fair, Kieu My had proved the question to be rather invalid moments before, so she’d giggled, skipped the whole way to the sink, almost tripping on the rug in her effervescent haste.)

     “You really didn’t notice?” Kieu My asks. She sounds small again. She’s shifting, ever-changing, maybe more like a chameleon than a turtle, and Fatou marvels, reaches out again. She strokes her thumb atop Kieu My’s shin and Kieu My finds her fingertips in the dark, holds on tight. 

     “It was always you for me, too,” she admits. “I was just…” she trails off, turning to look the other way— Fatou only knows because she hears the swish of her hair against her tank top, the creak of the bedframe beneath her— “...I wasn’t sure you’d ever go for someone like me.”

     “Serious?” Fatou replies. She can’t help the way it comes out a bit like a laugh, one that shatters the sanctity of the moment between them, or at least transforms it into something of a different breed. Something lighter, fuller, sanctified for the hundredth time in one evening. “You are so my type.”

Kieu My laughs then, too. Fatou feels herself breathe, relax again, become giddy in that way that she’s only ever known as love love oh scheiße I’m in love. This time, somehow it’s better, different, stronger than ever before. This time, it feels like it’ll last. 

     “Like, you’re completely my type. One hundred percent, in every way. How did you not get that?”

Kieu My gasps out another chuckle, slings her arm around Fatou’s neck. She finds her lips in the dark, Fatou’s eyes closed long before she gets there. “Well, I know that now.”

[crashdevlin]

Another Second Chance 1- Black Hole

Another Second Chance Masterlist,  Happily Ever Eventually Masterlist

Author’s Note: The final (hopefully) installment of the Happily Ever Eventually RPF series.

Summary: It's been five years since Jensen broke Y/n's heart and she's avoided him completely, but avoidance only lasts so long.

Pairing: past Jensen x Reader

Word count: 2302

Story Warnings: past cheating, little bit of background angst, mostly no warnings.

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

Things change. Either gradually or in catastrophic leaps, things change. Fact of life, unfortunately. Songs have been sung, books have been penned, movies have been made, all centered around that single inarguable fact.

When I was a younger woman, I thought that nothing really ever changed, that the facts of my life were that I was weak and stupid and I was always going to be in love with people who didn’t want me and were too good for me, that I was going to be miserable and alone forever. I was certain that I was the same person at 26 that I was at 16 and that’s just how things were always going to be.

I can honestly say, at 34 years old, I’m a different woman than I was at 16 or 26 or 30...and I may be alone, but I am not miserable.

I’m successful. I’m happy. I have friends and I have fans. I am well-rounded and, despite a hundred things working against me, well-adjusted. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be dating someone to be happy. In fact, without all the drama surrounding me whenever I do date someone, I’m happier. I have my children and I have my friends and I am happy. 2025 is shaping up to be one of my best years yet and I am ecstatic to see where it leads.

I’m sitting at my computer when my phone goes off. I don’t recognize the number so I Google it. King Woods Private School, the school Jensen wants to send Mav to. Weird that they’d call me when Jensen has primary custody. I answer immediately. “Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/l/n? Maverick Ackles’ mother?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hi, Ma’am. I’m Caroline Smith, Dean of Admissions for King Woods Private School. Your son’s father applied to our institution for the Fall semester for Kindergarten.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me. Said his father is very excited to get him in there.”

“His father didn’t tell you?”

“Mav’s nanny mentioned it, too, but...Jensen and I-”

“Had a very public falling out a few years ago, we’ve done our research,” she interrupts me. “But the thing is, King Woods is a very family-oriented institute and we need both parents to participate in all activities like monthly PTAs and volunteer nights. We need to make sure that both active parents can work together amicably. On that note, we have an admissions interview with little Maverick on Friday and we require your presence. Can you make it? 10:30 am.”

“Ten-thirty on Friday? Y-yeah. I can...I can totally do that. I will...see you then, Mrs. Smith.”

“See you then, ma’am. I’m looking forward to meeting you and your son. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I set my phone to the side of my laptop and take a deep breath. Jensen and I haven’t been in the same room since NolaCon 2020. We’ve emailed a few times, but haven’t even spoken on the phone...in several years...and that’s better. It’s better for everyone if we don’t talk because then we don’t argue and we don’t fall into patterns that leave us in bad shape.

But for Maverick’s future, for Maverick’s good, I will have to do it.

I call Misha. He encourages me and tells me it’ll be okay. He supports me. He’s an amazing friend, has been for years, one of the few I got in the breakup. Most of our friends specifically didn’t take sides. Kim and Briana and Misha, they sided with me...the girls a little more vocally than Meesh, but it ended up a small rift between Misha and Jensen. I put an end to J2M and it hurts a bit when I think about it. They still talk sometimes but nothing like they used to.

Jared still talks to me every once in a while, but he sided with Jensen. Of course he did. Jensen’s his brother. But Jared tries to keep me involved in his life, he tries to stay a friend...but he’s Jensen’s first, always has been.

“It’s gonna suck,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yeah. But still. You gotta do it, right?” Misha says and I chuckle. To the point with Mr. Collins.

“Yeah. I gotta do it. It’s just...I haven’t seen him in years. I mean...except pictures on Instagram. It’s gonna be weird.”

“You know what I say about weird, right?”

“Yeah. But this isn’t the GISH and Random Acts kinda weird, this is...a pit in my stomach that feels like a bowling ball and a fear of reversion to the person I was in the past kinda weird.”

“You’ve grown too much to revert and that bowling ball will go away when you get comfortable again.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. What happens if I get comfortable with him again, Misha?” I’m scared of it. “He’s like this black hole that sucks me in every time and the only way I’ve been able to stave off the destruction of my universe these last five years is to keep my distance. I don’t know what to do when I’m in close proximity to the black hole.”

“You can do this, Y/n. You won’t have any problems...and maybe Jensen’s grown over the last five years, too.”

“Well, you’ve talked to him more than I have. You’d know how much growing he’d done.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re spending all our time together anymore.”

I nod. “So...hope for the best, that he’s grown and things will be okay, and keep my distance from the dark vortex.”

“Exactly.” Misha smiles and looks directly at the camera. “You got this.”

Yeah, I do. I got this.

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

I wear an embroidered black silk Joanna Mastroianni dress to the interview. Not a lot of makeup, but enough to accentuate my features. I keep my hair out of my face and I wear sensible, cute shoes. I look good, but not like I’m trying to look good. I look like I’m trying to look presentable and classy for the people in charge of my son’s education.

I make it to the school first and I sit in a plush chair in the waiting room and wait with my legs crossed neatly to the side. I pull out my phone and start playing a game of Solitaire.

“Mommy!” Maverick’s voice pulls my attention away from the Seven of Hearts that is stuck behind the Six of Diamonds that is arresting my forward momentum in the game. I smile as he runs at me, full-speed, and I slip my phone in my purse as he throws his arms around my neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mav!” I exclaim. I lean back and look into the beautiful green eyes he inherited from his father. “Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

“Yes! All the time!” Mav says.

He turns his head to look at the door to the lobby as Jensen walks in. Holy shit. He let his hair grow out a bit...little longer than when he was playing a demon. It's multi toned, what would be called 'Salt and Pepper' in any other man, but it looks more like 'Walnut and light Roux' on him. He's rocking his ginger beard and it has some actual salt in the color. He's wearing a blue suit...a masterpiece tailored to take away your breath. The man knows how to make an entrance.

He's still gorgeous...and I’m still stuck on him. Fuck.

I stand and take Mav’s hand as Jensen steps closer. I focus on his forehead. I can’t look at those eyes. I can’t look at those lips or those freckles on his cheeks. Forehead is safe. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and licks his lips. “Hi,” I greet him, and my voice sounds awkward, too high-pitched.

“Hey,” he responds and oh, God, that voice.

Breathe. Stay away from the singularity, avoid being pulled into the black hole. “You doin’ good?”

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Just fine.” Dying, being sucked into a vortex in space.

He opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something else when a tall brunette woman in a smart pantsuit walks out of the office. “Mr. Ackles? Miss Y/l/n?” We nod as she drops to kneel in front of Mav and me. “And this must be little Maverick.”

Mav turns and hides his face in my skirt. “Sorry. He’s a little shy around new people. He’ll warm up to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s natural.” She stands and extends her hand to me and then Jensen, shaking our hands. “Good to see you both here. So, we’re going to take Maverick in and watch him play a bit, get a sense of his social and developmental placement and if he’s a good fit for King Woods, then we will make that happen.”

Jensen and I nod, then I gently pull Mav away from my legs. “You’re gonna go with the nice lady and play with some toys, answer some questions, okay? You can rock that, right, buddy?” Mav nods and smiles at me and Jensen.

“And you two will be just fine out here together, right?” Mrs. Smith says. She’s making sure we won’t freak out on each other. Freaking out on each other is not the problem.

“Of course we will,” Jensen answers. “We’re gonna park ourselves right here in these chairs and wait for you to tell us how brilliant our boy is.” He winks at the woman and she swoons a bit...I have to stop myself from doing the same as I step back toward the chair I was sitting in before. She offers Maverick her hand and he looks back at me before he takes it and follows her as she leads him away toward a playroom. I play with the hem of my dress for a few moments as Jensen takes the seat next to me, his bowlegs stretching out in front of him a bit. “So...listened to that cover album you did...with, uh, Rob, Rich, and Mark. It came out real good. ‘A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega’ was perfect.”

I look down and my cheeks heat up. “Thanks. Uh...you and Steve are working on Volume Four, right? How’s that comin’?”

“Pretty good. Not bad at all, actually.” There’s a moment of silence and I sneak a look at him. He’s biting his bottom lip. Black hole, black hole, black hole. “Oh, and how’s that Shakespeare thing goin’?”

My eyes light up and I look over at him. “Midsummer! Yes. My pet project! It’s coming. Rich has signed on to direct a few episodes and Matt signed up to be my Puck. I’m really excited to see what we can do with that universe. Fairies are so my jam!”

“Are you just producing and writing it, or are you gonna be acting in it?” he asks, leaning forward, showing interest, active listening.

“I’m Hermia, actually. It’s coming along very well.”

“That’s really good. I’m...happy for you.” He smiles and I bite my tongue. God. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I look away from him. “So, uh, I heard that you RSVP’d to Padalecki’s July Fourth barbecue, but you never showed up.”

I shake my head and sigh. Of course Jared told him I flaked on Independence Day. “Yeah. I was, uh...I was gonna go but-”

“But then you heard my shoot in Georgia got rescheduled and I wasn’t gonna be in Atlanta like I planned so you decided not to risk runnin’ into me?” he guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod and look over at him. “It was fine. I ended up watching fireworks with Nova over Skype.”

“You know...it’s been years. You don’t have to avoid me. We can be adults. Jared misses you.”

I lick my lips and nod. “It’s just hard for me to be around you. I miss Jared too, but I can’t be around you. It’s too hard.”

“This is hard?” he asks. I open my mouth to respond ‘Unbelievably’, but he keeps talking. “Because it’s not hard for me. It's the most natural thing in the world to me.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, settling back in the chair to lean away from him. “This is why it’s hard.” I open my eyes and pull my phone out to finish that game of Solitaire.

He doesn’t say anything else until Mrs. Smith walks out with Maverick fifteen minutes later. “They had a lot of toys in there!” Maverick shouts.

“Indoor voice, Mav,” I say as I stand up. I focus on Mrs. Smith. “So?”

She smiles brightly. “He’s a brilliant child. We would absolutely love to have him here at King Woods.”

“That’s great news!” Jensen exclaims.

“Indoor voice, Jay,” I joke before it hits me that I just called him ‘Jay’ and teased him. Slippery slope. Don’t get comfortable. “Uh, a-anyway. That is great news.”

“We’ll send you the information for tuition and supplies. It was wonderful to meet you both,” Mrs. Smith says.

I bend down and give Mav a hug as she walks away. “You’re awesome, kiddo. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!”

He runs to his dad and I pick up my purse, stepping toward the door. Jensen puts his hand out as he picks Maverick up to hold him on the other side. He pulls me into a half hug and I go stiff as his hand lands on the small of my back. God, he smells so good...and his hand is so big and…

I pull away and lick my lips. “You and Daddy have fun, Mav!” I almost run out of the lobby and into the parking lot.

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

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[haroldtea]

i wrote something!!

soooo I’m a pathological “i have a fic idea and i’m never going to write it or I write a few pages and then fall off” writer buuuut I had this very cute idea and wrote 4k words of it! I wanted to post it here before ao3 because 1) not sure if I’m a fan of starting a multichapter WIP because I still may abandon it like my other stuff 2) i want feedback before i continue!!

here’s the gist: it’s princess prom except it’s a high school au and princess prom is actually homecoming. Adora is very happy and supportive of Glimmer and Bow running for king/queen. Glimmer is very, very passionate about winning. The problem is they’ve naturally got competition, in the form of Perfuma (who is equally as passionate about winning, for her own reasons) and her new girlfriend Scorpia. In a sitcom-style mishap, Adora sort of accidentally signs up to run as well...with Catra, Scorpia’s best friend who Adora doesn’t not have a crush on. The two decide to go through with it with the intention of getting eliminated from the race as soon as possible. Then, their friends come up with a different plan for them.

so, take a read below at 4k of stupidity and let me know what you think, and if you would be interested to read more :) (fyi there is a lot of swearing lol)

“I’M GONNA BE THE QUEEN!”

Adora shrieks, flailing her arms and almost knocking her lamp over in the process. She whirls around in her desk chair to face the intruder, arms raised in karate chop form (she does not know any martial arts), and finds Glimmer, who has flung her bedroom door open and has that crazed Glimmer look in her eyes that only means trouble.

“Fuck! Glimmer, you can’t just sneak up--wait, how did you get in my house?!”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! Also, the door was unlocked,” Glimmer replies, kicking off her shoes and launching herself onto Adora’s bed, which she had just painstakingly made.

Adora presses her hand into her face, sighing. “I was kind of busy trying not to piss myself. Haven’t you heard of knocking? What if I was, you know...” she says, gesturing vaguely.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Please, Adora. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Anyway--the student council decided to bring back the homecoming pep rally!” she squeals, gleefully kicking her feet in the air.

Adora leans back in her chair, brows furrowed. “Bring back? Didn’t we have one last year?”

“Yes, but after the water balloon thing they weren’t gonna let us have it anymore, but it turns out that one senior who wasn’t gonna graduate did graduate so I guess they figured it would probably be fine, ‘cause like, who’s ever gonna try and top that?”

“Right,” Adora hums, thinking back to last year’s pep rally. Just before homecoming court was announced, a group of rogue seniors had risen from the bleachers, unleashing dozens of water balloons they had stashed in their backpacks. What ensued was a pandemonium Adora could only remember in flashes, resulting in almost the entire student body and the school’s hallways being completely soaked.

The catch was that the seniors had filled the balloons with blue paint. It had taken the janitorial staff weeks to get the gym bleachers, the lockers in the science wing, and the cafeteria ceiling (don’t ask) to look normal again. Classes were cancelled for almost an entire week because the paint had messed up something with the internal plumbing. It was single-handedly the coolest thing Adora had experienced in her living years.

It was all led by the legendary Mara Hart, notorious for sticking it to the man during her K-12 years. The prank had all but gotten her and her friends expelled, but given that she was otherwise an A+ student and no one could technically prove who was behind it (her friends were loyal to each other to the bitter end), she walked at Bright Moon High’s graduation to uproarious applause from her classmates.

Adora knew some of the more grisly details because Mara had been captain of the girls’ lacrosse team last year--effortlessly cool Mara, endlessly caring Mara, definitely part of Adora’s gay awakening Mara--but it had become something of an urban legend at BMHS over the past year.

“Wait, how do you know any of this?” Adora asks, because while she was personally connected to Mara in a small way, she hadn’t been aware that they were going to cancel the pep rally indefinitely.

Glimmer arches an eyebrow. “Um, hello? My mom’s the principal?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And Mermista totally let it slip when I asked her about it after the student council meeting,” Glimmer adds, then pauses. “Okay, it was more like I didn’t even wanna be there and I wish no one had ever voted for me and I’ll tell you whatever, but still. I’m...” she props her face in her hands and bats her eyelashes, “in the know.”

Adora smirks and rolls her eyes fondly, turning back to her desk to shut her textbook and put her notes away. She can never get anything done when Glimmer’s around. “Okay, so, pep rally’s back--that’s cool,” she says.

“It’s not just cool, Adora,” Glimmer scoffs. “Being homecoming queen is literally all I’ve wanted since I was a kid. I thought my dream had died with Mara’s academic career, but now there’s hope again--it’s meant to be, Adora. It’s destiny.”

Adora had literally never heard Glimmer talk about this, but, “Um, okay.”

Glimmer huffs and dramatically rolls onto her back, flinging her arms out and further messing up Adora’s sheets. Lesson learned, it isn’t worth the effort for Adora to make the bed anymore. “My mom was the homecoming queen like a hundred years ago, and my aunt was the homecoming queen before that. It’s, like, my birthright!”

Adora lifts a shoulder, twisting around in her chair to look at Glimmer. “Okay, then we’ll just get you to be the homecoming queen too. Can’t your mom just...make it happen?”

“Ugh, no,” Glimmer sighs. “I already asked. It’s a student vote.”

“Oh!” Adora brightens. “That’s easy, then. Everyone loves you.”

Glimmer pouts. “I know, but it’s not just a popularity contest--it’s, like, a whole thing. Me and Bow are gonna have to do a talent show, and there’s a relay race, and other stuff that if we don’t do well in we won’t even get to be in the final vote.”

“Wait, what?” Adora doesn’t remember any of that from last year. “What do you mean, Bow? Is...he's running for homecoming queen too?”

“Ha! No,” Glimmer laughs, then her expression darkens, eyes narrowing. “I would crush him.”

“Right...” Adora says. Actually, Bow would make a pretty good homecoming queen. But Adora values her life, so she decidedly does tell Glimmer this.

“No, every queen nominee has to also have someone to run with them as their ‘king,’” Glimmer explains, making air quotes with her fingers. “There’s no boy/girl bullshit, but you do have to be in a pair.”

“I don’t remember any...talent shows, or whatever,” Adora points out. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of one of those happening in real life.”

“Well, obviously you never went. It would’ve all been during your lacrosse thingies and you would've been too busy making googly eyes at Mara Hart,” Glimmer replies, wiggling her fingers at Adora.

Adora crosses her arms and blushes a deep red. “I would not. I would’ve been playing lacrosse. And stuff.” Okay, maybe she did make googly eyes at Mara, but only sometimes, as a treat, and Glimmer doesn’t need to know that.

Glimmer flips back over on her stomach and levels Adora with a pout. “Adora, this means a lot to me. We’re gonna need your help to win this.”

Adora has no idea how she could possibly be of any help with this, but hey-- “Of course, Glimmer. Whatever you need. I’m there.”

Glimmer grins, eyes sparkling. “Yaaaaay. Also, my mom’s making meatloaf tonight, you in?”

Adora pumps her fist in the air. “Sweet. Hell, yes.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is a joke, right? Like, you’re joking?” Catra says into the receiver as she shoves another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I am usually a pretty funny gal, it’s true--but, ah, no. This time I’m serious,” Scorpia replies on the other end.

Catra hoists her phone higher up on her shoulder while she adjusts her grip on her Xbox controller. “Okay, please explain,” she says between chews.

Scorpa sighs, and Catra visualizes her sitting cross-legged on her bedspread, hugging one of her many stuffed animals to her chest. “I know it’s kind of silly, but Perfuma sounded really excited about it, ‘cause I guess if you win, you get to pick what charity the proceeds from the dance ticket sales go to, and...I just couldn’t say no?”

Catra smirks, mashing a series of buttons on her controller as her TV screen lights up in front of her. She’s been trying to get past this level for weeks, but she’ll probably die right before the end again whether she’d answered Scorpia’s call or not. “You are so whipped,” she says.

Scorpia sighs again, but this time Catra can hear a smile in it. “I guess so, kitty cat. Still, it sounds kinda...fun? I mean, it’s more time spent with her, if anything else. She’s talking about writing an original song together for the talent show and incorporating her Tibetan singing bowls into it.”

Catra takes that in and barely suppresses a laugh. Her New Year’s resolution was to make fun of her friends less. Some days are harder than others. “Um, wow,” she says instead. “That’s, uh...that’ll be interesting. Do I have to call you Queen Scorpia if you win?”

“Oh, Perfuma doesn’t believe in gendered royalty,” Scorpia replies. “She wants us to be known as Homecoming Monarchs.”

“Of course she does,” Catra mutters. Perfuma is endlessly kind and patient and makes Scorpia smile, so by default Catra likes her, but otherwise they...don’t exactly share identical values, let’s say. Catra brings her own point home by pressing a button on her controller and chainsawing an alien in half on screen.

“Do you...think it’s a stupid idea? The whole...running for homecoming thing, I mean.”

Catra hears the telltale signs of Scorpia-doubting-herself in her reply, so she pauses the game. “Nah. If it’s something you guys wanna do, you should go for it. Fuck what anyone else thinks.”

“Okay, thanks,” Scorpia says, sounding lighter. “I think it means a lot to Perfuma. It would be cool to win it for her.”

“Well, hey,” Catra continues, un-pausing her game. “If you need any help, let me kn--oh, fuck!”

“Catra?” Panic sets in Scorpia’s tone. “Kitty cat, speak to me--do I need to call 911?!”

“No, no, Scorpia, please don’t do that,” Catra groans, tossing her controller aside. “I just got blown up in my stupid game again, that’s all. I’m never gonna beat this final boss.”

Scorpia sighed in relief. “Aw, don’t give up, kitty cat. One of these days, you’re gonna really give it to--what’s the dude’s name again?”

“Prime something-or-whatever,” Catra grumbled, reaching for her popcorn.

“Yeah, that guy. He’ll never know what hit him.”

Catra snickers into the receiver. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Scorpia.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lunch period at BMHS is, naturally, chaotic. Being a regional high school, every inch of the place is usually crawling with students, and the cafeteria is no different. The student population is small enough and the cafeteria big enough to condense into one lunch period, although Adora has oftentimes heard Perfuma lament about the ethics and health concerns of overcrowding.

Adora likes chaos. She likes that the overlapping sounds of chairs scraping and garbled chattering combine to form a comforting din that allows her to drown out whatever weird TikTok plans Bow’s making (ok, to be real, she will be asking about them later) and quietly observe the antics happening at tables around them.

She takes another bite of her pudding and her eyes land on the table to their right where Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio from her math class always sit together. Lonnie is mechanically chewing her gum as she stares into a compact mirror, examining her eyebrows with fierce concentration. Across from her, Kyle is holding up something on his phone to Rogelio with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he holds a corn dog. Rogelio is nodding along but is staring down fondly at Kyle rather than at the screen Kyle’s pointing to, one arm hanging loose around Kyle’s shoulders. Lonnie slaps her compact shut and shouts something at them, pointing emphatically to her eyebrows. They all pause for a moment before bursting into laughter. Then Kyle drops his corn dog.

Adora pointedly does not observe the table across from theirs. She’ll gladly watch the Star siblings silently and intensely do their homework for the next period, or listen to Mermista fight off Seahawk’s PDA attempts, but nothing could compel her to look at the table straight ahead.

That table was where Catra Weaver and her friends sat.

Including: Perfuma’s new girlfriend, Scorpia Garnet; Entrapta Dryl, who was dating one of the Hordak twins (Adora was ever completely sure which one); the Hordak twins in question, one of which who usually broods silently and one of which who usually stares around smiling at nothing and everything; the stylish and blonde ruler of the theatre kids who has been nicknamed Double Trouble for as long as Adora can remember; and finally: Catra Weaver. Effortlessly cool, effortlessly gorgeous, effortlessly effortless Catra Weaver, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, coolly regarding the rest of the cafeteria as she holds court at her table of wonderful misfit toys.

Today’s effortless ensemble: cool jean jacket, a cool crop top, cool black jeans, cool combat boots, she got a haircut recently so--

“Um, Earth to Adora?”

“Huh?” Adora says, jerking her head up.

This is why she avoids looking at Catra Weaver’s table. Or Catra Weaver in general.

“We were talking about homecoming,” Glimmer says from her seat across from Adora, raising an eyebrow. “You were totally spaced out.”

Adora clears her throat, willing herself not to blush. “Sorry,” she replies, digging back into her pudding.

“Glimmer’s trying to convince me not to run for court,” Perfuma continues, crossing her arms.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s totally lame and stupid and a waste of time,” Mermista answers from beside Perfuma, inspecting her nail polish. She glances up when she senses everyone at the table staring at her. “What?”

“Mermista, you’re on the homecoming committee,” Bow says.

Mermista shrugs. “So? I said what I said.”

“Look, Perfuma,” Glimmer starts, sliding her hand across the table toward Perfuma. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if you lose. Homecoming’s a really big deal to me, and I really want to win.” She smiles saccharinely, tilting her head at Perfuma, eyes gone wide. Bow and Adora exchange a look.

Perfuma smiles back. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Glimmer! I’m sure our classmates will select the most deserving and talented couple to win,” she says, then goes back to stabbing a fork into her salad.

Glimmer’s eye starts twitching. Bow slowly and gently takes Glimmer’s hand and slides it back to her side of the table. “Glimmer, we’ll do great. The most important thing is to have fun,” he says, patting her hand.

“The most important thing is the charity,” Perfuma mutters.

“That too.”

“Is anybody else we know running?” Adora asks. Glimmer and Perfuma both shake their heads in response, until Mermista sighs dejectedly.

“Unfortunately,” she groans, raising her hand.

“Wait, what?! You just said it was stupid and lame!” Bow squawks.

“It is,” Mermista rolls her eyes. “But the rest of the student council said it would look really bad if I was on the planning committee and didn’t run. I was forced against my will.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Glimmer asks, gripping her lunch tray so tight Adora wondered if she was going to launch it at Mermista’s head.

“I don’t know? I guess not? I’m planning on getting cut as soon as humanly possible though, so whatever,” Mermista replies, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

“We won’t win with that attitude, my love!” Seahawk roars, throwing his arm around Mermista’s shoulder and raising a fist triumphantly. “You and I are going to be the greatest King and Queen this school has ever seen!”

“Oh my god, please stop,” Mermista groans, hiding her face in her hands.

“Picture it: you, me, newly crowned, gliding down the science wing--the students stop and stare! Could it really be our King and Queen in the flesh? The teachers stare too! I am going to give them both straight A’s!”

“Please just sit and eat your sandwich,” Mermista begs.

“Never,” Seahawk says, then kisses her on the cheek and acquiesces, taking a big bite of his sandwich. Adora tries to hide her smirk when she sees Mermista blush a deep red. She elbows Glimmer and nods in their direction so she can see.

“Aw, how cute. I’m going to destroy them,” Glimmer whispers in Adora’s ear.

“I know,” Adora whispers back. “But try to at least be nice about it.”

“No promises.”

“Ok, I have to pee,” Adora announces to the table, grabbing her lunch tray as she stands, grinning at Bow’s groan of TMI, Adora!

She makes her way over to the trash cans by the cafeteria exit, waving to her friends on the lacrosse team as she dumps her leftovers in the trash and sets the tray in the dish bin beside it. She should probably go over and check in with them about practice tonight, but she really has to pee, which reminds her that she forgot her water bottle all the way back to the table and needs to refill it before her next class.

“Damn it,” she mutters to herself, still smiling at her lacrosse friends as she whips around to head back--

And crashes right into someone, their heads knocking smack together.

“Ow!” Adora yelps, losing her footing for a moment. She rubs at her stinging forehead, glancing up as she apologizes, “Shit, sorry, sorry, that was totally my fault, I--”

And stares right up at Catra Weaver.

“I...I...I...”

She blinks a few times, but yes, that is Catra Weaver, rubbing at her own forehead and fixing a few strands of hair that had come loose from behind her ears. Catra Weaver, up close and personal, who she hasn’t talked to since...

“Your forehead is fucking hard. And big,” Catra says, holding her tray in one hand as she narrows her eyes up at Adora.

“Oh, um, you too...I mean! Thanks? I grew it myself,” Adora replies spectacularly, and then promptly wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Catra raises one eyebrow at her. “How hard did I hit you?”

Adora scrambles to answer. “Oh, not at all! I mean, not hard. It was my fault. Are you, um, are you okay?” This is going amazingly.

“I’m fine, Greyskull,” Catra replies, sending a tingle up Adora’s spine. She goes to deposit her tray. “Just watch where you’re going.”

Adora grins dopily. “Yes. I mean--I will. Sorry. Again.”

Catra glances Adora up and down, eyebrow still raised, and goes to say something else, when they’re interrupted by a foreboding, familiar voice.

“Ah, Adora! I’m so pleased to see you taking an interest in student affairs.”

Adora turns to see Glimmer’s mom looming over them, hands neatly clasped together. Maybe looming isn’t the right word as she’s smiling brightly down on her and Catra, but she’s tall, ok? “Oh, hi Ang--,” Adora starts before remembering they’re at school, “um, Mrs. Moon. What’s up?”

Angella gestures between her and Catra. “I was just observing how wonderful it will be that Glimmer will have a friend to share the homecoming experience with.”

Adora tenses again, remembering that Catra is still standing very close to her. “Oh, haha, yeah, super great. Wait, what?” Sharing?

Then she notices that her and Catra are standing in front of the wall where the Homecoming Court Signup Sheet is hanging. A sparkly pen tied to the clipboard is dangling within Adora’s reach.

“Oh, um, actually, Perfuma’s already--”

“I think this activity will make a fine addition to your college applications, Adora. And you know how Glimmer gets,” Angella leans in conspiratorially, not bothering to lower her voice. “I think it will calm her nerves to have a friend by her side. A bit of friendly competition, even!” she claps her hands together, delighted. “I remember having so much fun with my friends back in my day.”

“But, I’m already on the lacrosse team...” Adora mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. She glances down at the pen.

“Oh, but you know schools these days, always looking for that something that makes a student stand out,” Angella says, waving her hand dismissively. “And don’t worry, I’ll speak to Coach Huntara about any scheduling conflicts. You’ll get to have the best of both worlds!”

Wait, but lacrosse was Adora’s whole thing--does she not stand out enough? Will she seem boring to UEternia? “I...”

“Oh, Ms. Weaver!” Angella says, as if she’s just now noticing Catra. “I didn’t take you for the...school spirit type.”

“I’m not,” Catra replies, crossing her arms. She smiles saccharinely and adds, “ma’am,” for good measure. God, she’s cool.

“Ah,” Angella says, creating an awkward pause before brightening again. “Well, still, here you are. Are you Adora’s running mate?”

So, sometimes Adora panics.

Look, she’s in a high-stress situation. The girl she doesn’t not have an embarrassing crush on bumped into her, talked to her, and then her best friend’s mom swooped in basically saying that lacrosse is boring and dumb and running for homecoming court will get her into UEternia. At least, that’s what Adora got from all that. And then she insinuates that she’ll be doing that with Catra Weaver.

So, she panics. She panics, and she grabs the glittery pen, and she continues to panic.

“Yep! We’re running together!” she says, grinning.

“Say what?” Catra hisses.

“Oh, wonderful!” Angella squeals, clapping her hands together again. “I must say, I think this will turn out to be a very interesting competition. You’ll have to come dress shopping with us, Adora.”

“Haha, yeah...” Adora says, quickly scribbling Adora Greyskull & Catra Weaver on the signup sheet. Oh fuck, oh god.

“Hang on a fu--” Catra starts, then clamps her mouth shut, because the goddamn principal is still talking to them.

“Oh, I wonder what you’ll do for the talent show! I can’t wait...well, I’m off. It was great catching up, girls!” Angella says, and winks, and does weird-mom-finger-guns, and then she’s gliding away as quickly as she came.

Adora continues to grin and wave awkwardly until Angella is out of sight, then she deflates. That was so weird.

Then she turns and sees Catra reach for the pen that’s still in her hand. Adora has half a mind to snatch it away. Or half a brain cell, at least. “Hey!”

“Cross our names out. Right. Now,” Catra growls through gritted teeth, still trying to grab the pen. Adora tries to hold it up out of reach, but it’s still attached to the clipboard, so the best she can do is weave her hand in and out of Catra’s way.

“Um, no? I just told her we were running!”

“Well, we’re not. Give it to me!”

“No!” Adora grunts, yanking the pen away. “You heard her--she’s gonna talk to Coach Huntara. I can’t back out now.”

“Well, I can!” Catra says, grabbing at Adora’s arm, where she has the pen tucked under her armpit. “Find someone else to run with you!”

“I can’t! They’ll want to win!” Adora says, twisting her body away from Catra. She’s having a slight meltdown over Catra touching her so much, but she’s focusing on the pen for now. “No one’s gonna want to run with me anyway.”

Catra mutters something under her breath that Adora doesn’t catch, then she snakes her hand under Adora’s and takes hold of her wrist. Adora stifles a gasp. “Wait, you don’t want to win?” Catra asks, eyebrow quirked.

“Noooo,” Adora furiously shakes her head. “No, no, no. Glimmer would kill me. She wants to win. I just, um, panicked. I guess?” The heat from Catra’s hand is searing into her wrist.

Catra glances down at their hands and back up at Adora. “So, your friend will kill you if you run for homecoming. And you just signed up in front of her mom?”

“Um...” Adora thinks for a second. “Yes?”

Catra huffs out a laugh. “Wow, you’re even more of an idiot than I remember.”

Adora feels her face redden, shocked at Catra’s casual mention of the past, and glances away. “Look, let’s just get eliminated as quickly as possible and then we can forget it ever happened. Deal?”

“Ugh,” Catra lets out a groan, leaning her head back. She tugs at Adora’s wrist a few times, finding that she isn’t budging. “Fine! As quickly as possible.”

“As quickly as possible,” Adora nods, finding herself grinning as Catra loosens her grip and pulls away. “I’m gonna take this pen home, by the way,” she calls out as Catra begins to head back to her table.

“Fuck!”

After Adora finally pees and refills her water bottle, she gingerly sits back down beside Glimmer. Poor, sweet, deadly Glimmer, who’s chattering away excitedly with Seahawk about some new music video or something.

She says, in a very tiny voice, “So, um...I think I’m running for homecoming queen?”

Glimmer whips her head around, nose flaring. She stands up, slamming both hands down on the table with a smack.

“You WHAT?!”

And then the bell rings.

[celestialprincesslulu]

Taylor Swift prompts p1!

I really love Taylor Swift and so I wanted to create some RP starters based off her songs. I’ll organize it via the titles of the songs like usual. There are 104 total here!

:: The 1

"I’ve been saying yes instead of no.”

“I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t though.”

“I hit the ground running each night.”

“You know the greatest films of all time were never made.”

“If you wanted me, you really should’ve showed.” 

“If you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.”

“It’s all right now.”

“We were something, don’t you think so?”

“If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.”

“In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone.”

“It would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the one.”

“I have this dream that you’re doing cool shit, having adventures on your own.”

“We never painted by the numbers baby but we were making it count.”

“You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.”

“It’s another day of waking up alone.”

“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?”

“In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time.”

:: Hoax

“This has broken me down.”

“This has frozen my grounds.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Your faithless love is the only hoax I believe in.”

“Don’t want no other shade of blue but you.”

“No other sadness in the world would do.”

“I am ash from your fire.”

“You know the hero died, so what’s the story for?”

“You know it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart.”

“You knew the password so I let you in the door.”

“You knew you won so what’s the point in keeping score?”

“What you did was just as dark, darling this was just as hard.” 

“You have beaten my heart.”

:: Illicit Affairs

“Make sure nobody sees you leave.”

“Hood over your head, keep your head down.”

“Take the road less traveled by, and tell yourself you can always start.”

“It’s born from just one single glance but it dies, and it dies a million little times.”

“Leave the perfume on the shelf.”

“You picked it out just for him so you leave no trace behind.. like you don’t even exist.”

“Take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high. A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.” 

“Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby. Look at this god forsaken mess that you made me.”

“You showed me colors that you know I can’t see with anyone else.”

“Look at this idiotic fool that you made me.”

“You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else.”

“You know damn well for you, I would ruin myself a million little times.”

:: This is Me Trying 

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting.”

“I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting.”

“I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that.”

“Could’ve followed all my fears all the way down.”

“Maybe I don't quite know what to say but I’m here in your doorway.”

“I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.”

“They told me all of my cages were mental so I got wasted like all of my potential.”

“My words shoot to kill when I’m mad.”

“I was so ahead the curve, the curve became a sphere.”

“I fell behind in all of my classes and I ended up here.”

“Pouring my heart out to a stranger, but I didn’t pour out the whiskey.”

“It’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound.”

“It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.”

“You’re a flashback on a film reel on the one screen in my town.” 

:: Coney Island

“If I can’t relate to you anymore, then who am I related to?” 

“If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?”

“Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you?”

“Sorry for not making you my centerfold.”

“The question pounds my head, what’s a lifetime of achievement?” 

“Did I pushed you to the edge, but you were too polite to leave me?”

“Did I leave you hanging every single day?”

“Were you standing in the hallway, with a big cake.. happy birthday. Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey?”

“When I got into the accident, the sight that flashed before me was your face.”

“When I walked up to the podium, I think I forgot to say your name.”

:: It’s Time To Go

“He’s insisting that friends look at each other like that.”

“Trying to stay for the kids' and keeping it how it is will only break their hearts worse.”

“Sometimes giving up is the strong thing.”

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing.”

“Sometimes walking out is the one thing that will find you the right thing.”

“I gave it my all, he gave me nothing left and then wondered why I left.” 

“He sits on his throne in his palace of bones, praying to his greed.”

“He’s got my past frozen behind glass but I’ve got me.”

:: Exile

“I can see you standing honey, with his arms around your body.”

“You’re laughing but the jokes not funny at all.”

“It took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it.”

“I’m holding all this love out here in the hall.”

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

“You’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?”

“You were my town but now I’m in exile, seeing you out.” 

“I can see you staring honey, like he’s just your understudy. Like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me.”

“Those eyes add insult to injury.”

“I’m not your problem anymore, so who am I offending now?” 

“You were my crown, now I’m in exile seeing you out.”

“I think I’ve seen this film before so I’m leaving out the side door.”

“Step right out, there’s no amount of crying I can do for you.”

“All this time, we always walked a very thin line. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You never gave me a warning sign, I never learned to read your mind. I couldn’t turn things around.” 

:: Champagne Problems

“You booked the night train for a reason.”

“I dropped your hand while dancing, left you out there standing.”

“Your heart was glass and I dropped it.”

“You told your family for a reason, you couldn’t keep it in.”

“Your sister is splashed out on the bottle and now no one’s celebrating.” 

“Your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems.”

“You had a speech, you’re speechless.”

“Love slipped beyond your reasons and I couldn’t give a reason.”

“This dorm was once a madhouse, I made a joke well it’s made for me.”

“How evergreen our group of firends, I don’t think we’ll say that word again.”

“I never was ready so I watched you go.”

“Sometimes you don’t know the answer until someone is on their knees and asks you.”

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked up in the head.”

“You’ll find the real thing in stead, she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

[anatrik]

folklore and evermore sister songs list

1. the 1- champagne problems.

Common themes:

Failed relationship with unresolved feelings on both sides.

No satisfactory closure.

Recurring devices:

Champagne ( Rosè, Dom Perignon)

Toasts with friends (rosè flowing with your chosen family// no crowd of friends applauded)

Overall reminiscent tone

2. cardigan- willow.

Common themes:

A strong undercurrent of Possessiveness that seems to imply that no one could ever know or love him like she does. (I knew you dancing in your Levis, drunk under the street light, heart beat on the highline...// That's my man)

A certain sense of inevitability born of the long shared history of the two protagonists.

All is fair in this love. (I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired...I knew you'd come back to me// there's one prize I'd cheat to win)

Recurring devices:

Infidelity and forgiveness (I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired...I knew you'd come back to me// wherever you stray I'll follow)

Scars (you drew stars around my scars// show me the places where the others gave you scars)

Trains (heartbeat on the highline, stepping off the last train//you know that my train could take you home)

Linked music videos

Similar instrumentals

3. exile- coney island.

Common theme:

Contemplating the death of a relationship and the role each side played in hastening it

Recurring devices:

Male- Female duet,

Call and response ( you never gave a warning sign, I gave so many signs// did I leave you hanging every single day? did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey?)

References to fragility ( did I close my fist around something delicate// balancing on breaking branches, we always walked a very thin line)

4. my tears ricochet- closure.

Common theme:

Scathing indictment of a much loathed ex

Recurring devices:

The ex who wants to be the good guy/hero and everything to be neatly tied up with no loose ends ( don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled//you're the hero flying around saving face)

Reaching out after its too late ( if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake cursing my name//reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me)

5. mirrorball- tolerate it.

Common themes:

Power imbalance

Going above and beyond for someone who doesn't appreciate it (or atleast doesn't let the singer know that they do)

Recurring devices:

Constantly giving one's best (still on that tightrope still trying everything//use my best colors for your portrait)

Insecurity and a pathological need to be palatable ( I can change everything about me to fit in, shining just for you// I take your indiscretions all in good fun, I sit and listen)

Self deprecating self awareness in the outro (I want you to know I'm a mirrorball// I sit and watch you)

6. seven- dorothea.

Common themes:

Friendship

Innocence

Blurring the line between a best friend and a first love

Strong Homoerotic undertones

Recurring devices:

Quintessential American Towns™ (Reading, Pennsylvania// Tupelo, Mississippi)

The trustworthy friend™ (cross my heart won't tell no other// if you're ever tired for being known for you know, you know you'll always know me, I still got love for you// and I've got nothing but well wishes for ya)

Shared Memories (sweet tea in the summer, your braids like a pattern// skipping the prom, the soul I met under the bleachers)

7. august- gold rush.

Common themes:

Summer romance

Forbidden fruit

Other woman perspective

Recurring devices:

The beach (salt air, your back beneath the sun// costal town we wandered around, ships on water)

Sex (twisted in bedsheets// my eagles tshirt hanging from your door)

Yearning and jealousy (your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it// I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch everybody wants you)

Knowing he belongs to another (you weren't mine to lose// I cant dare to dream about you)

8. illicit affairs- tis the damn season.

Common theme:

"Driving a new Maserati down a dead end street"

Longing for things to be different

Recurring devices:

Time limit ( a drug that only works the first few hundred times//you could call me babe for the weekend)

Roads (take the road less travelled by// road not taken looks real good now)

Perfume (leave the perfume on the shelf...don't even exist//the holidays linger like a bad perfume)

Sneaking around (clandestine meetings//I parked between the Methodist and the school that used to be ours)

A once in a lifetime connection (you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else// the only soul who knows which smiles I'm faking)

9. invisible string- ivy.

Common theme:

The unbreakable bond between soul mates

Recurring devices:

Color (green grass// ivy, single thread of gold //tarnished glow, teal shirt//opal eyes)

Physical allegory of their connection (invisible string tying you to me// your ivy grows and now I'm covered)

10. mad woman- no body no crime.

Common theme:

Murderous Female Rage™

Recurring devices:

Boats (my canons all firing at your yatch// good thing my daddy made me get a boating licence),

Infidelity (the master of spin has a couple side flings// her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity)

Mad women.

11. epiphany- marjorie.

Common theme:

Taylor's grandparents

Death

Recurring devices:

The number 13

Dreams (dream of some epiphany// your closets of backlogged dreams)

12. peace- happiness.

Common theme:

Title subversion (would it be enough if I could never give you peace// therell be happiness after you)

13. hoax- evermore.

Common theme:

Extremely sad songs with ultimately hopeful messages

Recurring devices:

Melancholia (stood on a cliffside screaming give me a reason// I was catching my breath barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death)

Distrust (your faithless love// I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore)

Self loathing (barren land, I am ash from your fire// motion capture put me in a bad light)

Turmoil (sleepless nights, winless fight// I've been feeling unmoored I'm on waves out being tossed)

Hope (your faithless love's the only hoax// this pain wouldn't be for evermore)

- Anatrik ©

FINALLLY did it

Best 5 hrs of my life that I've "wasted"

[cherryblossomflowers]

An Old Life Meets A New (Pt 1)

Pairing: Jensen x Daughter, Danneel x Stepdaughter

Warnings: Slight Cussing, Angst, Fluff, Death Mentioned, Car Accident Mentioned, Anxiety/Depression

Summary: After the recent death of her mother, Harper must adjust to her new life in the Ackles home, this includes a new stepmother, half-siblings, and reconnecting with her father.

A/N: This is a very very depressing type story. If I left something out in the warning that happens, I'll try to catch it.

*ASK OPEN*

**MAKE SURE TO COMMENT TO BE TAGGED**

Chapter 1

From the window it looked like the plane was floating on the clouds. An empty class of apple juice and a candy bar wrapper sits on the table. Cold air was blasting throughout the area. The smell of freshly made coffee was in the air.

Sitting in first class, thanks to an upgraded ticket from her father, a 15-year-old Harper fiddled with her Spotify on her phone, trying to find a song that was loud enough to tune out the rest of the world.

After scrolling through every single playlist, she settled on Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold, which is ironically is what she feels she's been living for the past week.

One week ago today, Harper got a call. Her mother was in a car accident coming home from work. Whoever had hit her passed away at the scene and both cars were crushed completely. Her mother barely survived the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Once Harper got there, a doctor informed her that her mother passed away just minutes before she arrived. They said they did all they could.

Let's be real. All doctors say that.

The funeral was 4 days ago. There were so many people at the cemetery, so many people coming up to Harper and giving condolences. Harper was asked to speak, but she couldn't make herself do it.

Harper looked at her screensaver on her phone as a single tear fell from her face. The last photo she had taken of her mom. They were visiting the Statue of Liberty and her mother insisted on taking a selfie. That photo has been her screen saver since.

Soon after the funeral was the meeting with her mother's lawyer. Written in her will were the following words: If anything were to happen to me while Harper was under 18, call her father.

Harper hadn't heard from her father in about 7 years. He used to fly up to NYC and visit, and sometimes Harper would fly out to Texas for the summer.

The last time Harper saw Jensen, she was 8 years old. He came to watch her perform in a ballet show in Central Park. After the show, he hung out and took some pictures with her.

Now, Harper was sitting on her flight to Austin looking at the picture of her 8-year-old self with Jensen. The ballet show photo was the last one they had together. After that, Jensen stopped calling, stopped visiting, and pretty much fell off the face of the earth.

Or so Harper thought.

Her mother's lawyer got in touch with Jensen and told him the situation. Harper didn't really get a say in anything, but as a 15-year-old she didn't really have a choice.

So she packed up her New York City life in a duffel bag and her backpack, got a ticket to Austin, and was on her way to a totally different life.

A flight attendant touched Harper's shoulder, which made her jump in her seat. Harper ripped off her head phone and looked up. 

The attendant took a step back, "My apologies ma'am. I was just letting you know we are beginning out descent."

Harper nodded her head as the attendant left. She put her phone in her back pocket and her headphone around her neck, and sat back her chair. She looked out the window and sighed.

The attendant had one thing right: She was beginning her descent. But into her new life.

Was she ready? After 7 years had Jensen forgotten everything about her? Was he ready?

The town of Austin was in sight from the window. It still looked the same after so many years.

Nerves suddenly bubble up in Harper's stomach when the plane hit the runway. Her anxiety had to be through the roof at this point. She looked down at her bouncing leg and her shaky hands. She leaned her head back and took a deep, shaky breath.

When the plane had come to a complete halt, the seat-belt sign flashed, but Harper didn't move. She was glued to her seat, terrified to move. Everyone in first class was moving around and getting their bags from the upper compartments. Harper stayed put.

Once the first class members were exiting the plane, Harper knew it was now or never. She stood from her seat, grabbed her backpack from the overhead compartment, and walked down the aisle of the plane. She got to the exit, nodded at the flight attendants waving goodbye, and left.

She walked behind people, making herself as small as possible. She pulled her headphone back up and around her ears, reaching in her back pocket for her phone. She hit play on Spotify, the song now being Rocketman, and walked to the baggage claim.

Harper stood in front of the baggage claim, hundreds of people around her. She looked down at her phone and saw a text from Jensen: Let me know when you're here. I'll come inside.

Oh, right. Airports were like celebrity central. He'll step one foot in the door and crowds will form around him in a split second.

Quickly, Harper messaged him back: Don't worry about it. I'll be outside in a few minutes.

She put her phone in her back pocket and waited for the baggage claim to start moving. Closing her eyes, she faded into the music once more.

Harper started daydreaming of her life back in New York. Right now she'd be in Central Park, sitting on a bench and drawing the trees. The beautiful summer sun warming her and summer breeze blowing around her. Her mom would be sitting next to her reading her novel.

Well, if her mom was still here.

A loud buzzer startled Harper from her daydream. She looked up and saw a red light, indicating the baggage claim was moving. She stood at the beginning of the baggage claim, that way she'd see her bag immediately.

She looked down and saw her blue and purple tie dyed duffel bag coming through. After grabbing it, she made a B-line for the front door. She wasn't exactly a crowd type person, thanks to social anxiety, so she wanted to get out as soon as possible.

Harper pushed the revolving door forward until she was outside the airport. As soon as she stepped outside, her stomach dropped in realization.

What in the world does Jensen even drive? How am I going to find him?

Harper walked over to a bench and sat down. The Texas heat suddenly hit her and sweat covered her face. She took off her jean jacket, exposing her tank top, and tied it around her waste.

She sat back and closed her eyes, her nerves still present in her body. She tried to relax enough to have energy to look for Jensen, but the heat was not helping.

Was it always this hot? I don't remember feeling like I was melting while I was here.

Harper felt someone tap her knee and jumped. Her headphones fell down when she sat up. Harper's eyes flew open when she gasped, and she saw Jensen standing there.

"I'm so sorry, did I scare you? I didn't mean to. I've been calling your name, but you had headphones in and probably couldn't hear me," he said in a low voice, his hand still on her knee.

Harper couldn't move. This was the first interaction she's had with Jensen in years, and she couldn't move. She had her mouth open, but no words came out. Jensen made eye contact with her, but she moved her head to not look at him.

Jensen squatted down to be at eye level with Harper and smiled at her, "Wow, you haven't changed a bit huh? Still got those big brown eyes like your mom."

At the mention of her mother, Harper tensed up and tears formed in her eyes. She looked down to the ground, a tear falling down her face.

Jensen lifted her chin, which scared Harper, "I know how you feel, I miss her too. Your mother was an amazing woman. I hate that she left you so soon. I'm sorry, Harper."

Harper wiped her eyes and sighed, looking up at Jensen. She nodded her head as a thank you to him.

Jensen smiled at her, stood up, and grabbed Harper's bag from the ground, "Come on, my truck is over here."

Jensen began walking away with Harper's bag in hand. Harper stood up, grabbed her backpack, and jogged to catch up to him. She walked next to him, her head looking down at the ground.

They got to his truck and Jensen tossed her duffel into the bed of the truck. He walked over to the passenger door and opened it, "After you, madam."

Harper climbed inside putting her backpack on to the floorboard. Jensen shut the door and jogged around to the driver's side. He climbed inside as Harper was putting on her seat-belt. He put his on and started the truck.

Jensen put his hands on the wheel and took a deep breath, "Ready?" He looked over at Harper and a frown formed on his face.

Harper sighed and curled up towards the window, leaning her head on the window. She pulled up her headphones on her head, but didn't start the music. She just wanted the illusion that she couldn't hear anything.

Jensen sighed, put the car in drive and started forward.

-------------------------------

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​ @chessurkait​ @adorable-minibot​ @desiredposion​ @idksupernatural​ @thevelvetseries​ @spnfamily-j2​ 

[magical-readathon-diaries]

Djali’s Log 1

So I guess this is the beginning of it? The big adventure I always dreamed of? Braving the Novice Path, heading towards the Academy to meet new people, learn new things, see fantastic places. Wait, should I do an introduction here? Do journals even need introductions? Well, what if one day my journal is saved for posterity for some historical reason? Maybe someone venturing onto the Novice Path in the future could benefit from reading this log and learn how to better navigate it themselves? Yes, yes, then an introduction is in order.

Hello, this is Djali, of the Great Underworld Library of Darkmeadow. I am seventeen years of age, of Iltirian heritage, and tutored in the realms of history, geography, biology, archivism, and certain magics, such as conjuration and illusion. I have spent my entire life beneath Darkmeadow and was raised by the curators of the Library, though my main overseer is, at this moment, Archivist Caddigan. My knowledge of the world and its inhabitants is limited solely to my own personal research, as this log contains my first voyage away from home, so any discrepancies or misunderstandings found within are solely the fault of my own inexperience. That’s a normal thing to put in a journal, right? Okay, focus, time to move forward.

My journey to Orilium was relatively uneventful. Caddigan arranged passage for me on a ship, which carried many other residents of Darkmeadow looking to take on the Path. I was eager to speak with them to learn how they would approach this challenge, knowing that not all who undertake it come out alive. While I did get the usual pleasantries, no one was willing to talk for long. They were still planning, preparing, or fretting for what was ahead of them. Not that I can blame them, of course. With all the stories one hears, it would be foolish not to do everything in one’s power to make sure they were one hundred percent ready. It’s just….I thought things would be different. Less…. solitary. That we would all recognize our common goal and work together, like the stories of heroes long ago. But, those stories are the past, not now, as Caddigan always tries to remind me. Still, why can’t then be now also?

I spent most of the time reacquainting myself with the map of the Path, its general layout, as well as practice some magic that may be of use during the test. I had it all down to the best of my ability, I didn’t think I can take much more of it. My head was so full of what ifs, contingency plans, and just general information it feels like it was going to burst. I think the only time I felt any solace was at night.

Though I was unable to chance a flight that night, I did fly up the mast to sit in the crow’s nest. It was made for crows after all. I haven’t done too much study into nautical topics, so that’s my best assumption. I stared for a while at the stars, still admiring, my mind wanting to focus on a single point, rather than the chaos currently bouncing around my temples. It was a nice moment, one that I will treasure always and take comfort in. Of course, I eventually fell asleep, so the morning after I needed a bit of help getting down since the blasted sun was ruining my eyes again, but we won’t dwell on that.

This was my first time leaving the Library, meaning this was probably the longest time I have been on the surface in a while. I’ve ventured out onto the topside of Darkmeadow a few times, giving Caddigan multiple heart attacks in the process, but those excursions were never that long, not enough for me to get a good sense of the outside. Being on the ship, however, exposed me to what life is like in the open air. Before I left, Caddigan gave me a blindfold, as my eyes are not used to the sun and I really would not like to spend my days in a total blinded stupor. During the day I mostly spent time below deck, just wandering aimlessly. But at night, I emerged to see a sky flooded with stars.

I’ve studied stars in the past, learned their names, positions, and what constellations they create, but actually seeing them was almost indescribable. The light was soft, gentle, unlike the harsh light of day that I unfortunately have to get used to. They were celestial pinpricks in a velvet tarp of night, the world made more beautiful just by their existence. There was no moon unfortunately, but it was still a sky worth looking at. Everything felt so still and quiet, the lap of the waves against the ship making the only noise. A salty breeze tousled my hair and for a moment I was tempted to shift into crow shape just to feel what it would be like to ride it. The captain had expressly told the Iltirian passengers not to do so, something about us “land-dwellers” not knowing how to “bend to these ferocious sea winds,” but I think it may just be his superstition of not wanting too many ‘birds of ill omen” near his ship. Not very logical thinking if you ask me, but we all have our quirks.

It wasn’t too long after that the ship made it to Orilium. Thankfully by that time I could travel fairly well in the day without my blindfold, something I was extremely grateful for as the time to start the Novice Path was drawing near. We disembarked and made our way to the campsite near the entrance to the Path. A good amount of people were already there, setting up tents, getting a lay of the land, writing messages to loved ones should they not make it out. It was honestly depressing to think about, but it was a reality. There was no certainty that we were all going to make it out of here alive. Though we were all looking for adventure, for a chance to prove ourselves worthy, that all came with a price, one that some may have to pay in full.

I don’t think I find myself particularly worried. I think it’s more like I can’t allow for failure, so I can’t even accept the possibility of it. I can’t come to grips with the fact that I may very well die in the near future. Call it the reckless abandon of youth, but It just seems so impossible. That confidence will either be my greatest asset or my ruin. But enough of that! This is supposed to be exciting! That’s what readers like! A dragging down to earth is necessary in certain parts, but only so that we can rise up again!

Clearly the mood was starting to weigh heavily in the air, as an old elf came before us and delivered a well, I think it was intended to be a rousing speech about the merits of having danger in an adventure, which I suppose is true, but doesn’t alone soothe anyone’s worries. The song he performed afterwards did a lot more in stirring up the revelry of the crowd. It’s a song we all know, a song that was practically born in our minds at birth. In that moment, all those feelings of fear, doubt, and anxiety melted away, as we raised our voices as one and came together to celebrate the calm before the storm of our journey.

The night that followed was one I admit that I will be hard pressed to forget. The archivists of the Library are, surprisingly, not the most mirthful of people, so I’ve never actually been to anything resembling a party. It was very..loud to say the least. Lots of drinking, dancing, shenanigans, which I guess is normal? They don’t exactly have any academic material on this subject, though such a text would probably be very helpful to people like me. The utter pandemonium of it all was hard to navigate at first, but I think I managed to fit in rather well. I danced the best I could with some other Iltirians. I’m not much of a dancer, another thing they fail to teach you when you live at the Library, but no one pointed and laughed so I’ll take that as a triumph.

And that has been my journey up until now. Tomorrow I begin my adventure on the Novice Path, along with the others who want to prove their worth to the Academy. It’s hard to believe that the time has finally come, that I’m only one sleep away from the most important day of my life. Here’s hoping that it’s also not the last.

I mingled through the crowd, politely taking a drink now and then. I got a few names, had a couple worthwhile conversations, some a little one-sided, but I don’t think anyone’s eyes completely glazed over as I went on about the magical properties of certain gemstones. I’m not sure if I would call anyone friend just yet, though something in me desperately wants to. There’s still the fear that the people I met tonight may very well be gone tomorrow, but tonight was for enjoying this glorious moment, not dreading the future. So, the night passed thusly, with wine and song and the hope that tomorrow is a guarantee.

When the party died down and people retired to their tents, I rolled out a pack on the ground, completely content to sleep under the sky. The stars were shining bright as ever, the lovely constants of the sky, and now there was a slight sliver of moon to accompany them. Though there was little to see, she sure was beautiful.

I’m sorry, I really can’t end the log like that. So depressing. Uh, what else to end it on?

Well, the moment I wrote that a literal tumbleweed blew past me, perfectly summarizing the emptiness of my mind.

Okay, on that note, this log is complete.

[schmokschmok]

live forever in the stars

As authors for the @avatar-rarepair-exchange-2021 have been revealed, I’m three hundred exlamation marks in a trenchcoat to share the fic I wrote for @zukkaclawthorne!

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Relationships: Suki x Yue, Suki & Ty Lee (minor: Zuko x Sokka, Ty Lee x Mai)

Characters: Suki, Yue, Ty Lee, Sokka, Zuko (and a few more)

Wordcount: 9099 (3 x 3033)

Tags:

No Archives Warnings Apply

Alternate Universe - Modern

Weddings

Fake/Pretend Relationship (emphasis on fake)

Queerplatonic Relationships

Summary:

Then Yue leans close into Suki’s personal space (Suki catches her breath) and continues in a conspiratorial whisper: “This is actually Sokka’s second wedding. We were married in kindergarten for like half a day before I decided boys were icky and he found out girls have cooties.” She laughs, and Suki falls a little in love with her right then and there.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060613

CN: alcohol, food (mentioned); briefly discussed acemisia (not graphic)

#1

Before opening the door of the car she’s sitting in, Suki casts a glance towards the small group of people waiting in front of the karaoke bar. Katara, Azula, Aang, Toph, and, of course, Zuko and Sokka are standing close together, their hands shoved into their pockets and already leaning towards going in.

Ty Lee has exited the car and, before Suki can get a chance to reach for the handle, Ty Lee is pulling it open for her, taking a step back to make room for Suki to get up and extending her hand for Suki to grab. She asks with a giggle: “What are you waiting for?”

“I wasn’t waiting for anything,” Suki replies while letting Ty Lee help her out of the car and onto her two feet, and it’s kind of true. It’s not like she’s been expecting anything to happen, really, it’s more that she was hit unexpected and hard by a sudden dread of getting back to the others which doesn’t really make sense considering the fact that she knows and loves most of the people attending the afterparty.

Ty Lee lets go of her and closes the door before locking the car and turning towards their friends with a little twirl of her dress. The heels of her shoes come down hard onto the asphalt of the parking lot and echoes between the cars, and for a moment Suki is incapable of doing anything other than admire the outfit Ty Lee put together and the poise she’s pulling it off with. Everyone, Suki thinks, put so much effort into their appearance and they look like the feature section of a fashion magazine.

Self-consciously, Suki’s fingers start tugging at her obi and she tries to sneak a peek at the orange obi-jime wrapped around her waist, fearing that the car ride might have distraught her outfit. It’s not very likely but seeing them all in their post wedding glory makes her worry, nonetheless.

“You look a-ma-zing,” Ty Lee says, emphasising her words by grabbing Suki’s hand again to keep her from fussing over her appearance. “Like, why wouldn’t you?” The palm of her hand is dry and warm in Suki’s, and Suki immediately feels a whole lot better.

“I’m just a little,” Suki pauses to think of a neutral word to describe what she’s feeling, “self-conscious, I guess. I forgot they would change into tuxes.” While her head nods in the direction of Sokka and Zuko, her voice is as low as possible to avoid letting the others hear the uncertainty in her words. “The only other one wearing traditional clothing is Azula, and I never thought I would have anything in common with Azula, you know?”

“Oh, hun, it’s okay,” Ty Lee replies and she’s really one to talk in her bubble-gum pink cocktail dress and matching cardigan, “Mai’s, like, going to wear furisode, too.”

“Mai’s not here and she’s conveniently skipping the first party as well,” Suki says, slightly disgruntled.

“It’s totally not her fault, her plane’s, like, delayed,” Ty Lee says softly. “She’s not mad about missing karaoke, though, you’re right.” She giggles. “Whatever, you still got me, seriously, I’m your plus one, right?”

There’s no such thing as a plus one, they both had to show their invitations – names printed neatly in small capital letters on the bottom half – to enter the reception while handing over their wedding gifts – Suki’s in an elaborately decorated envelope with her name written on it, Ty Lee’s in a plain red envelope with her and Mai’s names on it. But the thought of a plus one is nice, and as long as Mai is absent, Suki can at least bask in the thought of Ty Lee as her partner in crime tonight.

“Yeah, you are,” Suki says and tightens her grip on Ty Lee’s hand. “Too bad you’ll leave me as soon as Mai gets here.”

“You’ll survive, for sure,” Ty Lee retorts, giggling, and pulls Suki into the karaoke bar. The twilit, cold street is exchanged for the warmth and clean-cut light of the interior. Azula has fallen back a few steps as if she were waiting for Ty Lee and Suki, but Suki’s not at all sure if Azula would ever do such a thing, and the unhappy line of Azula’s mouth is no help at all.

“Azula!” Ty Lee exclaims cheerfully, the glee in her voice only surpassed by the joyousness of her smile. She even steps up a notch to reach Azula faster.

“Ty Lee,” Azula greets, then her gaze falls onto Suki as if now were the first time she noticed Suki at all. “Suki.” The movement of her head could almost pass for a nod in greeting and Suki chooses to interpret it as such. (She’s a little reminded of Mai – stoic faced and hard to read Mai. Suki’s not sure why and how Ty Lee keeps on being friends with people obviously emanating the absolute antithesis of herself, but it’s something Suki’s trying to adjust to ever since she came to know Ty Lee.)

“It’s, like, totally bitchin’, right?” Ty Lee asks, throwing her free arm over Azula’s shoulder and forcing her to duck. “Our first wedding is like: done, done, done!” She’s accentuating every done with a punch into the air, forcing Suki to do it too, their hands still clasped together.

Even though Suki doesn’t always believe Ty Lee’s claims that she holds a special place in Azula’s heart, it’s moments like this, moments in which Azula lets Ty Lee rope her into soft embraces and excited hugs, that almost convince Suki that underneath Azula’s unaffectionate and rough exterior lies something akin to a friend. It’s nice to witness, seldom as it is.

“Very,” Suki agrees when Azula only rolls her eyes at Ty Lee’s antics.

“It’s hardly our wedding,” Azula states bluntly, but the dry tone of her voice is betrayed by the way she’s still willingly trapped underneath Ty Lee’s arm.

Ty Lee pouts ostentatiously, before pulling Azula closer and quickly pecking her on the cheek. Then she lets go of Azula and retorts cheerily: “The first wedding of our squad, whatever!”

Already opening her mouth, probably to say something rude, Azula takes a step back to put some distance between herself and Ty Lee and Suki. But Suki beats her to it and asks: “The others are waiting inside?”

“Very,” Azula replies, obviously mimicking the tone of voice Suki used a few seconds ago to answer Ty Lee. It remains unclear if it’s a friendly attempt at homage or a mean-spirited comment to rile Suki up.

“Awesome, let’s go!”

Ty Lee grabs Azula’s hand, too, and pulls both her and Suki towards the hallway leading to the different booths. Already past three doors on each side, she stops dead in her tracks, causing Azula and Suki to bump into her.

“Gals, I totally don’t know where to go,” Ty Lee admits sheepishly. “Which booth is ours?”

Sighing, Azula walks around Ty Lee and beelines further down the hallway until she reaches the right door, Suki and Ty Lee trailing right behind her. When they enter the booth, their friends have already started rafting through the song selection. Chatter fills the room, and nobody really pays them any mind.

Suki didn’t expect many more people to be in the room, but it’s not only the small group that attended the reception after the wedding with the grooms’ family, but also a few people Suki has never met before. It’s still a fairly small wedding party, Suki thinks, sitting down beside Ty Lee who is still holding onto her hand and chose a seat next to a beautiful woman in a red dress that Suki has never seen before.

“June!” Ty Lee throws her arm over June’s shoulders, and Suki experiences the weirdest kind of déjà vu. It could be either the way June ducks her head and draws her shoulders up under Ty Lee’s excited embrace or the way her mouth forms an unhappy line akin to Azula’s. (Suki makes a mental note to ask Ty Lee if being emotionally unavailable is a requirement to become friends with her and if so, why Ty Lee decided to befriend Suki anyways.) “It’s, like, so good to see you!”

Either Ty Lee wore them down over the time of their friendship or every single one of her stoic friends is severely touch-deprived, there’s no other way Suki can explain the fact that all of them just take Ty Lee’s willingness to touch everyone at any given time with such stride. June looks like someone who could and would break the arm of someone touching her unsolicited.

While June and Ty Lee start to catch up on their lives (or rather: while Ty Lee catches June up on her life and June provides a few strategically placed quips), Suki lazily starts to inspect the other people in the room. Sokka and Zuko are squeezed in between Katara and Azula at the head of the table, in perfect view of the TV mounted to the wall. The only person separating Azula and Ty Lee is June who is either not acquainted with Azula or demonstratively turning her back to her.

Katara and Aang lean over the tablet, punching in the first drink orders while Sokka tries to tap on the screen, apparently to support a point he’s making – whatever that may be.

Leaning back in boredom, Toph chews on a chocolate bar as if they hadn’t been dining less than an hour ago. Almost sitting directly opposite of Suki and softly talking to Toph is a not-quite-stranger that Suki has seen at the reception but has never talked to. Taking the few uninterrupted seconds she gets before Katara is going to ask either her or the stranger for their order, Suki looks as discreet as possible at them.

Now that Suki is actually sitting somewhat close to them, she can see the white, fan-shaped dangling earrings and the little silver studs above them, a crescent moon on the left ear and three tiny stars on the right. A smile gentle as low tide plays around their lips and makes the skin next to their brown eyes crinkle. Their hair, bleached to a silvery white, is pulled towards the crown of their head, held together by a hairpiece in the same shade of blue as their dress and separated into two braids. Another two braids frame her face, also adorned with blue hair pieces. Somewhere between leaving the reception and sitting down at the table in the booth, they lost the shawl that had been draped over their shoulders.

In short: They are absolutely beautiful.

(The thing is that Suki is already cleaning up her act as best as she can because if she’s perfectly honest with herself, the first time she laid eyes upon the ethereal being on the other side of the table [or in the prior case, two tables over], the only thing she could think about was that this is fucking ridiculous. No one has any right to be this beautiful, especially when Suki’s heart is so desperately trying to get lost. – Suki didn’t have, no, still doesn’t have words to describe the visceral feeling evoked by them.)

When they turn their head and it becomes apparent that they could meet Suki’s eyes any moment, she lets her head fall onto Ty Lee’s shoulder, lifting their still intertwined hands up towards her lips so she can whisper in Ty Lee’s ear as inconspicuous as possible (she’s not at all sure if this makes as much sense as she thinks it does, probably not): “Ty Lee …?”

“Su-ki?” Ty Lee splits Suki’s name in two and stresses the last syllable, a soft singsong in her voice. Her head drops on top of Suki’s and she’s talking almost as lowly as Suki.

Still hiding behind their raised hands, manoeuvred in front of Suki’s lips as if she were only moments from kissing Ty Lee’s knuckles, Suki groans as quiet as possible without losing the implications of her sever sufferings: “I’m very gay, did you know that? Just, uhm, very gay.”

Ty Lee giggles. “And this great revelation came to you because of, like, what?” Her nose brushes Suki’s hairline, and Suki can feel Ty Lee’s breath on her forehead. It tickles.

“Next to Toph,” Suki answers with an almost imperceptible nod towards the stranger. “Saw them at the reception, too. I think I am in love.”

Ty Lee retorts: “Big words coming from you.” And Suki’s not entirely sure if Ty Lee is poking fun at her or if she’s actually amazed at Suki’s pash. “The last time I heard you talking like that you were, like, totally smitten with Sokka.”

“Don’t remind me,” Suki groans. “I still can’t believe that was a thing that happened.”

“As if!” Ty Lee says heatedly as if she were required by law to defend Sokka because she never quite overcame her crush on him. “You seriously can’t say something like that at his wedding!”

With the back of her free hand, she gently slaps Suki’s thigh, and Suki can’t hold back a chuckle. In reconciliation, Suki backpedals hastily: “I didn’t mean it like that.” Now, she lifts their intertwined hands to her lips and presses a soft kiss on Ty Lee’s fingers. “Sometimes I kind of forget that Sokka and I used to date.” Then she realises the way her words could come off as. “Not in a bad way! Just … it’s been so long, and we’re really close friends. You know what I mean?”

Ty Lee makes a contemplating motion with her head and hums. Then, after a moment, she says light-heartedly: “Totally! To be honest, sometimes I’m, like, forgetting it, too. Like, it’s more like I can’t think of a time when Sokka and Zuko weren’t, like, dating and stuff, right?” Her face lights up. “They’re so married!”

Her last words overlap with Katara asking them for their order, dutifully typing in Suki’s beer and Ty Lee’s oolongcha.

“No Mugicha?” Katara asks distractedly.

Waving her free hand dismissively, Ty Lee replies: “DD for now, seriously, I totally need the caffeine, right.” A smile makes its way onto her face and Suki thinks it may be caused by a combination of two things: Firstly, that Ty Lee is only driving until Mai gets here and releases her from her sober duties, and secondly, that Ty Lee cannot wait anymore to see her girlfriend again who has been gone for almost a week. (Which, admittedly, is not a long time for most people. But Ty Lee is not most people and she almost started wailing half a day after Mai’s departure. Naturally, she had to do it in Suki’s flat, starfished across Suki’s living room floor, a couch pillow in hand to sob dramatically into every once in a while.)

The door opens, revealing the last two people awaited: Smellerbee and Pipsqueak. They sit down next to Suki and the stranger who briefly meets Suki’s eyes while scooting closer to Toph, a gentle smile on their lips. Suki can’t take it and averts her eyes. (She wants to talk to them, to know their name, what brought them here – besides, you know, the wedding –, if they are single and maybe even interested in girls – interested in Suki, by any chance.)

“Where did you leave Longshot and The Duke?” Aang asks, leaning over the table to face both Pipsqueak and Smellerbee.

“Longshot doesn’t sing,” Smellerbee says, shedding her jacket and draping it over the back of the bench seat.

Pipsqueak says: “The Duke’s gonna be at the club.” He grins, throwing a hello and the desire for a green tea into the room. Katara nods and punches his order into the tablet.

“What about Jet?” Aang asks, evoking laughter from both Pipsqueak and Smellerbee.

“Not invited,” Smellerbee cackles. “Jet says it’s because Sokka and Zuko would rethink getting married if he were present.”

A shocked gasp draws everyone’s attention to Sokka who’s hand is pressed against his chest in mock offence. He exclaims: “I would never rethink marrying Zuko!”

“I might,” Zuko pipes in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t want to take any risks. And Sokka thought it’d be weird to have that many exes present.”

“It would be weird. The quota has been met,” Sokka says. “I’m gonna file for divorce right now if you could do with another ex in this room.”

Suki laughs quietly while assessing the people in the room. Either the grooms are referring to Mai and Suki or there is another ex present Suki has never heard of. And if Zuko didn’t magically date Katara without Suki noticing, it must be the gorgeous person in front of her. (Which, okay, on one hand opens up the possibility of them being hetero, but on the other hand clearly shows that they would date someone like Sokka or Zuko – which could mean that Suki has a chance.)

“Please don’t,” Zuko says, pulling Sokka closer to him, “divorce is too expensive. We don’t have that kind of money.”

When Sokka gasps again, Ty Lee hides her face in Suki’s hair, laughing about their antics. The grip on Suki’s hand tightens for a moment and Suki can’t suppress the warmth coiling in her abdomen because she loves Ty Lee with all her heart and soul.

Suki doesn’t know anymore why she was dreading coming here because with Ty Lee’s hand in hers, and the people she’s known for years surrounding her, this evening can’t be anything other than perfect. (Even if her singing skills are more subpar than sublime, she’s here to have fun. And the way Aang practically throws himself into the small space in front of the table after their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses with Sokka and Zuko, and performs like he’s trying to impress the jury of a talent show, she’s sure that fun will be the last thing missing in this room.)

“We’re, like, totally gonna duet the shit of them,” Ty Lee whispers and Suki barks out a laugh.

  #2

“Zlint!” Ty Lee exclaims right after stepping through the door of the karaoke bar, pulling Suki through with her. “We were totally bitchin’ it!”

“You did,” Suki agrees, not sure if her contribution to their duets is as major as Ty Lee’s. “But I think I lost every ability to can when you-know-who stepped up.”

The group spilling out of the karaoke bar behind them also includes Sokka who drapes his arm over Suki’s shoulders and singsongs: “I could still divorce Zuko, just say a word. I didn’t think my singing would convince you to get back together with me.”

“We’re not divorcing!” Zuko calls from where he’s standing with Toph and Azula, and Toph says something to Zuko and Azula that actually manages to make Azula smirk.

Before turning back to Suki and Ty Lee, Sokka yells back: “Let me live!” Then he continues in a moderated voice and a grin: “Sorry to disappoint, but apparently I am stuck with my husband. Forever! Oh, no!” His grin widens if that’s even possible.

At this point (not that it hadn’t been obvious from the start), they all know that Sokka just really, really likes to say that Zuko and he are married. (Suki remembers the days leading up to the wedding when Katara, Sokka and Hakoda made akutaq and invited Suki over to eat with them; the nervousness that Sokka wasn’t comfortable revealing to anyone other than Suki; the late-night talks on the kitchen floor after Katara and Hakoda had already gone to bed; the way Sokka had held her hand and asked lowly what if he doesn’t want to marry me anymore, what if he changed his mind? and the way she couldn’t hold back a chuckle, telling him that she has never ever met anyone who’s as smitten with someone as Zuko and that there is no way Zuko could have changed his mind.)

“What a waste,” Ty Lee giggles at the same time that Suki says: “We weren’t even talking about you, dork!”

Sokka blinks in astonishment. “Huh, you weren’t talking about me? How come, I mean, why?”

Ducking her head in an attempt to come off as inconspicuous, Suki replies: “Not everything’s revolving around you, you know.”

“It should,” Sokka retorts, feigning offence, and buries his head in Suki’s hair to demonstrate the severity of her invidiousness.

Ty Lee leans towards Sokka and stage whispers: “Suki has a crush.” Then she nods to the group of their remaining friends. Suki wishes the earth would open up and swallow her whole, this is not Sokka-relevant information material.

“Do not!” Suki gasps, right before Sokka yanks his head up to look in the direction Ty Lee has nodded. He searches the faces of their friends, apparently trying to sus out which of them Suki could find attractive. (As if any of them would play in the same league as Yue whose name Suki learnt right after she tentatively took hold of the microphone and a chorus proclaiming her name to cheer her on erupted. – Not that there’s anything wrong with the others, Suki’s just not interested in the little sister of her ex-boyfriend, or people like Aang or Smellerbee who are so much younger than her.)

Sokka doesn’t seem to have run through the same equation as her, because he grips her shoulders, making her face him, and whispers scandalised: “You’ve got a crush on my sister? Suki!”

“Oh, please,” Suki forces over her lips, “I don’t. I … Sokka, eww. What the fuck.”

He lets go of her shoulders, his own relaxed once again. Then he scratches his neck with an awkward grin plastered on his face and says: “Sorry?” But it sounds more like a question than an actual apology.

“Katara is like my little sister,” Suki continues, and Sokka holds up his palms in a display of defeat.

Ty Lee, the absolute traitor, waves her hand dismissively and chimes in: “No, no, Yue. Suki couldn’t take her eyes off of her, right, like at all.”

“Ty Lee!” Indignation in her voice, Suki lets go of Ty Lee’s hand and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I just think you should, like, so do something to prevent you from, like, totally wallowing in self-pity the next few weeks because you didn’t even try to, like, chat her up,” Ty Lee replies light-heartedly. “She’s either with Sokka or Zuko, so you can at least check if you’ve got, like, a chance or whatever.”

Even though it almost sounds reasonable when Ty Lee says it like that, Suki doesn’t want help from Sokka or Zuko. She wants to quietly marvel at Yue’s beauty – from afar. Maybe test the waters and introduce herself. The least she wants is Sokka inserting himself and trying to matchmake; actually, she doesn’t even want him knowing because the probability that he gets way too excited at the prospect that Suki could be dating again, puts way too much pressure on Suki. In the end, he’s going to annoy her relentlessly if she already talked to Yue and if Yue is as nice as he made her out to be (because Suki knows that Sokka is going to oversell Yue, and Suki is going to end up disappointed – either because Yue can’t live up to the picture Sokka painted or because Yue’s not interested in Suki at all).

“Oh,” Sokka says, surprising both Suki and Ty Lee with his lack of enthusiasm. “Yeah, I don’t know. Yue doesn’t really do the whole dating thing. Most of the time, at least.”

“Normally, Suki, like, doesn’t do it either,” Ty Lee reminds Sokka (as if it were necessary) before Suki has the chance to say something. (She’s not even sure what she could have said. Maybe that she’s glad. Maybe that this is terrible.) “They don’t even have to, like, date. This is a party; today is totally about getting people together. Guys, don’t be like that!” Ty Lee extends her arms and twirls, her bubble-gum pink skirt lazily fanning out. “Live a little!”

“Yeah, Sokka, live a little,” Aang exclaims and jumps onto Sokka’s back like a spider monkey, the popped collar of his decorated kuspuk hitting Sokka’s ear. (Suki desperately prays that nobody listened to their full exchange. This is humiliating.)

Instinctively, Sokka grabs the hollows of Aang’s knees and laughs. He yells: “I’m living, okay, I am absolutely living my best life!”

Aang wraps his arms around Sokka’s neck and chortles: “Good! Now, go on, o my majestic horse, carry me towards the party!” His heels dig into Sokka’s hips and Sokka attempts to throw Aang off his back, but he’s not serious about it and starts to walk towards Aang’s van.

“Did you just call me a stud?” Sokka asks smugly, adjusting his grip again.

“Well, I didn’t call you a dobbin,” Aang concedes, startling a laugh out of Zuko, Toph, Ty Lee and Suki. “Now, go! Come on, let’s get this party started!”

But instead of going on, Sokka comes to a halt and turns back to them. After an accessing look over their group, he says: “We didn’t think this through, gentlepeople.”

“Why?” Katara asks, also taking a look at everyone as if she were able to find out what Sokka’s on about.

“The Mystery Machine doesn’t have space for so many people,” Sokka says, furrowing his brow.

Ty Lee shakes her head chidingly and chimes in: “Oh, whatever, Yue can, like, totally ride with us!” Suki almost loses it at the sight of Ty Lee’s shit-eating grin, but she reigns herself in because she doesn’t want Yue to think that she’s dissatisfied with Yue. Literally biting her tongue, Suki can see the winks Ty Lee and Sokka exchange before Sokka turns back to walking to Aang’s van, the rest of their group except for Suki, Yue and Ty Lee trailing after him.

You’re on thin fucking ice, Suki tries to convey through a hard gaze in Ty Lee’s direction, but Ty Lee just smiles at her as if she weren’t aware of her treachery.

When Yue opens her mouth to say something, Ty Lee exclaims: “I’m gonna go get the car, seriously, don’t move!” And then she’s gone.

“That was … weird,” Yue says, both eyebrows raised, but with the same smile she displayed on various occasions this evening.

Suki chuckles nervously and replies: “Yeah, she’s a weird one, our Ty Lee.” She has absolutely no idea why she said this; something that makes her sound like an elderly lady talking about the ‘special interests’ of her grandchildren. But Ty Lee is already too far away for Suki to find safety in following her without looking like a fool, so Suki remains rooted to the spot, averting her eyes before remembering that it’s kind of rude to ignore Yue.

“So,” Yue says unexpectedly, taking two or three steps to get into Suki’s general vicinity, “you’re Suki?”

“Yeah, I must be,” Suki replies but the uptilt of her voice at the end implies a question, so she corrects herself: “I mean, yes, I’m Suki. And you’re Yue.” At least she didn’t say something like and who might you be? Maybe there is mercy somewhere in the universe.

Yue, however, doesn’t seem to be bothered about Suki’s inability to talk to her. Instead, she pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders and crosses her arms in front of her chest, and confirms: “Yes, that’s true.”

For a moment, they stand a mere metre apart, awkward silence encompassing them. Suki shifts her weight from one foot to the other and throws a glance towards their car, but there is no trace of Ty Lee even though their car is clearly in Suki’s line of vision. The traitor.

Yue drags one of her feet over the asphalt and a group of strangers walks past them. Suddenly, Yue’s much closer than before, probably because she got out of the way of the group. They look at each other and Yue breaks their silence with a question: “So … how did Ty Lee and you meet?”

This is not something Suki anticipated or expected. Normally, the first thing people ask of her is not … Ty Lee of all things. It’s not even that Suki can’t talk about Ty Lee – oh, she definitively could for hours – but when the first thing a beautiful woman asks is about the person you’re with, then the message is pretty clear, isn’t it? Yue is much more interested in Ty Lee than Suki. (This somewhat eases the tension in Suki’s abdomen because the focus shifts from her onto Ty Lee. But Suki also realises that she wouldn’t be interested in herself right now. She didn’t even manage to form one measly, coherent sentence since she’s been left alone with Yue. Why would Yue think of her as an acceptable conversationalist?)

“A few friends of mine and I founded a tessenjutsu group,” Suki says, longing for the wide pockets of her pants to bury her hands in. “After a couple of months, Ty Lee stumbled upon one of our flyers and joined our group.” The story is much less exciting than most people think. “Sokka and Zuko actually met at one of our show fights.”

“Oh! Sokka told me about that,” Yue replies, even though she doesn’t seem quite satisfied with Suki’s answer. “We used to talk much more, but sometimes life gets in the way.”

Her gaze turns melancholic and for a moment she averts her eyes, lost in thought. Then she blinks deliberately and changes the topic: “I only knew Katara and Aang before coming here. I hadn’t even met Zuko before which is pretty awkward if you ask me. This is the first wedding I’ve been to where I didn’t know both spouses to be.”

“Where did you meet them before?” Suki asks and it’s not the best phrasing because the wedding is so small (as is custom, but nonetheless), but she’s confident that Yue’s going to know what she means.

“Katara, Sokka, Aang, and I grew up in the same neighbourhood,” Yue answers, then she leans close into Suki’s personal space (Suki catches her breath) and continues in a conspiratorial whisper: “This is actually Sokka’s second wedding. We were married in kindergarten for like half a day before I decided boys were icky and he found out girls have cooties.” She laughs, and Suki falls a little in love with her right then and there. “But right before elementary school my family moved away. We corresponded until we were old enough to get phones.”

Yue doesn’t move out of Suki’s space again and Suki takes this as a sign and decides: She won’t be the embodiment of the useless wlw trope, she’s going to be a functional bi. She can do this. Just flirt with the pretty lady, Suki, come on!

“It’s a real shame that we didn’t attend the same kindergarten,” Suki says and in the very moment she continues, she thinks that this is probably not the right way to flirt, this is probably the worst way to flirt with someone who’s technically a stranger, but she can’t stop herself from talking, “you could have married me to get back at him.”

Suki’s not sure where she’s taking the courage from but she’s reaching for Yue’s elbow and touches it briefly to emphasise her point. (Maybe Ty Lee’s already rubbing off on her, terrible.)

“Emily Chen proposed to me a week later and I think we never filed for divorce,” Yue says, voice full of mischief. “I’m a married woman, it seems.”

“Scandalous,” Suki gasps in fake outrage. “If I had a nickel for every time I was rejected by a married person, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.”

Yue hides her mouth behind her hand, but Suki can still see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Who could have rejected you?” An almost imperceptible blush spreads over her cheeks and Suki thinks that maybe she does have a chance with Yue.

“Sokka,” Suki jokes. “Or rather: Zuko did the rejecting for him. – Now that I think about it, it’s even weirder that it happened twice in one day, in like a really, really short amount of time.”

They laugh, and Suki catches sight of Ty Lee’s head that pops up behind a car right next to theirs. Redirecting her gaze onto Yue’s face, she says: “It seems like Ty Lee has finally remembered where we parked the car.”

As if on cue, Yue takes a step back, right out of Suki’s personal space into her own. As if she remembered that they’re not entirely alone; that they’re still out in the open on some street, Ty Lee only a few metres away.

“That’s good,” Yue says, the tone of her voice rather detached and distanced, and the line of her shoulders less relaxed than before. The engine of the car starts up and Yue turns towards the street. The awkward silence embraces them once again, and Suki wonders when, where and in what way she could have offended the universe to deserve such discomfort.

When Ty Lee pulls the car over, Suki reaches for the handle of the pillion seat because she thinks it could come off as flirty if she holds open the door for Yue. But when she opens the door, the seat is already taken: Apparently, Ty Lee thought it would be rather clever to move every little thing the car contains onto the front passenger’s seat to keep Suki and Yue from sitting in the front. The smile she displays would seem apologetic to most people, but Suki knows that Ty Lee is absolutely incapable of feeling remorse. (Well, okay, not entirely.)

“Sorry!” Ty Lee exclaims, motioning towards the backseat. “There’s still, like, plenty of room in the back, right?”

“Is that so?” Sukis asks at the same moment that Yue says: “No problem!”

Ty Lee sends a prompting gaze Suki’s way, and Suki closes the car door, already reaching for the backdoor without looking for it. Her hand brushes Yue’s and for a second her heart and head short-circuit. They let go of the handle, and Suki takes a step back to make room for Yue. Both utter an apology, and Suki can see out of the corner of her eye that Ty Lee suppresses laughter, only semi-successful.

Risking a second attempt, Suki reaches for the handle again and pulls the door open, outlandishly sweeping a curtsey (or rather: trying and failing at a curtsey and flapping her arm in a hopefully graceful manner). She adds: “After you!”

Yue smiles and shakes her head but climbs into the car without further ado. Suki slides in after her, catching sight again of Ty Lee’s shit-eating grin. (Now is not the time to think about it in great detail but she will definitely get back at Ty Lee for this stunt. If she’s persistent enough, she might even rope Mai into it. The probability of the latter happening is … not too high, but Suki likes to shoot for galaxies hoping that she hits a few stars on the way.)

“Your sense of orientation must be pretty bad,” Yue says. Then she gasps at her own words, clapping her hands in front of her mouth. “I’m sorry, I just mean: We could have walked to the car together, then you wouldn’t have gotten lost.”

Not trusting herself to keep it together and from straight up calling Ty Lee out in front of Yue or melt at the naïve sweetness that Yue emanates, Suki bites her tongue.

“I totally didn’t think of that, like, at all,” Ty Lee responds, sugary innocence resonating in her words. “That would have been such a help. I got totally lost in the parking lot.”

You did not!, Suki mouths and she’s pretty sure that Ty Lee has seen her, because she starts to giggle on the front seat again. Leaning her head against the headrest, Suki says: “We’re gonna take a photo of the parking spot, so we don’t magically lose the car again.”

 #3

 Suki is really doing her best, okay. She held open the car door for Yue and tripped Ty Lee on their way into the club; she asked Yue what she would like to drink and then went to the bar to buy her that very drink; she stood next to Yue and talked about their occupations and the way they spend their weekends, things they liked growing up, stuff you don’t usually talk about in a club with a stranger; she peeled Ty Lee off her shoulder (multiple times) to signal her availability; she initiated soft, gentle physical contact throughout their conversation to indicate her interest; she was genuinely funny, causing Yue to throw her head back in laughter, baring her teeth and revealing the column of her neck. At least seven of those actions could be considered aggressive flirting; if Suki were generous, she could even count tripping Ty Lee because it definitely counts as an act for the good of humanity.

Now she’s draining the last of her drink and thinks that she doesn’t want to go home, so she can as well go big.

“Would you like to dance?” She asks with more confidence in her voice than in her soul, breaking their contemporary pop-song remix filled silence. “I think I know this song.” In reality, Suki’s not sure if she knows the song or if the countless remixes have started to blur into each other so neatly that she can’t differentiate between them anymore. But it doesn’t matter, does it? She doesn’t need to know a song to dance to it with a beautiful woman.

Yue doesn’t look too enthralled at the prospect, and Suki feels her heart sinking. Maybe she’s been reading this absolutely wrong. Maybe she just thought that Yue seemed as interested in her. Oh, no, maybe she’s just being nice, and Suki is exactly the disaster bi she didn’t want to be, reading friendly banter as tentative dalliance.

Swallowing down her disappointment, she smiles at Yue and says: “Well, you know what? I think I’m gonna go and get some fresh air, now that I think of it.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Yue asks to Suki’s surprise. Because she had been sure that she overstepped Yue’s boundaries, alienating her in the process. “Fresh air would do me some good, I think.”

Suki nods and, without thinking about it, she extends her hand for Yue to hold, like she would do if Ty Lee or Sokka would stand before her. But Yue only spares a glance and doesn’t take hold of Suki’s hand, and even though it’s completely understandable and valid that Yue doesn’t take her hand, it still feels awkward. Suki's empty hand falls to her side, and she turns around to head for the exit and to avoid that Yue sees the look on her face. 

Once they get stamps on the back of their hands, they step out into the cool air, and it hits them right in the face. Suki feels a whole lot better underneath the streetlamp lit sky. Yue is right behind her when they swerve a group of smoking people in showy dresses and ten-inch heels, and Suki can almost forget what happened a few minutes ago.

The front court isn't too big, and a few benches are standing around, waiting for drunk and tired clubbers and hushed late-night conversations. Suki walks to one further away from the other people to catch a break from loud voices and close contact to strangers. Sitting down on the cold wood, she watches Yue out of the corner of her eye standing for a moment longer, until she’s sitting down as well.

The distant chatter and laughter of the other group is carried by the wind into the other direction, and they’re sitting in something almost resembling quiescence. From their bench, Suki can oversee most of the parking lot and she can even make out their car underneath a streetlamp at the far end.

Somewhat sobering up from the heated atmosphere in the club, Suki starts to wonder again what kind of signals Yue is sending her. When they finally reached the club and reunited with the rest of their group, Yue could have easily sat at Zuko’s, Azula’s, June’s and Toph’s table, or joined Aang, Sokka, Ty Lee and Katara on the dancefloor, or followed The Duke, Longshot, Smellerbee and Pipsqueak upstairs to the second dancefloor. But she didn’t. Yue waited for Suki to come back and stood with her offside, watching the people on the dancefloor, waving at their friends whenever they emerged from the crowd. – At any given time, she could have walked away. But she didn’t. She chose to spend her entire evening with Suki and that must mean something. – Yes, Yue hadn’t been interested in dancing with Suki, true, but it could also mean that Yue’s not interested in dancing, Suki or no Suki.

Yue had been receptive to her flirting, Suki feels confident. Would Yue be sitting next to her if she weren’t?

So, Suki draws a few deep and discreet breaths, and breaks the silence: “I don’t know if it’s bad luck, but there has been someone tonight really outshining the grooms.” Her eyes flicker to Yue’s face to gauge her reaction, before she can force her gaze on the parking lot again. Casual, Suki, just one damn time! “You know who’s the prettiest tonight?”

Her fists lying on her knees, Suki waits for anything. She’s a bit proud of herself because this is going to be the smoothest pick-up line she has ever used. There is literally no way this can go wrong. (Well, there is the possibility that Yue is deeply and utterly hetero and won’t take it as a compliment, but even if she’s not romantically interested in Suki, it’s still likely that she’s going to react in a respectful manner. – Suki doesn’t think that Sokka would be friends with someone that couldn’t handle being mistaken for gay.)

“Ty Lee?” Yue says. (Or asks? Suki doesn’t have the foggiest if the uptilt of her voice is meant as a question or just caused by embarrassment. – Either way, this is not what Suki envisioned. At all.)

Mai is supposed to arrive at any given moment and maybe it’s time that someone explains to Yue that Ty Lee is already in loving, monogamous hands, so Suki retorts, feigning an amused chuckle: “Don’t let her girlfriend hear you talk like that.”

The way Yue furrows her brow makes her seem more contemplating than surprised. The fingers of her right hand tap an unsteady rhythm on the back of her other hand, and her voice sounds uncertain when she says: “I think it's already too late for that.”

And Suki doesn't know how to take Yue's soft confession because as far as Suki is concerned, Yue and Mai have never met. Suki is at a loss for words, and they fall back into the awkward silence Suki was desperate to leave behind.

A few minutes go by, then a cab pulls into the parking lot and Suki looks without much interest at the shadowy figure inside paying the driver and rummaging around. When the door is opened, however, Suki perks up because it’s none other than Mai who exits the cab. And if Mai is here, it means that Suki is officially released from her role as Ty Lee’s chaperone. (Not that Suki had been dutifully chaperoning Ty Lee in the first place. Or that Ty Lee actually needed someone chaperoning her.)

With poise in her every step, Mai makes her way over to Suki and Yue, calmly stepping around suspicious puddles and radiating serenity.

“Mai,” Suki calls out as if Mai wasn’t already on her way to them. “What took you so long?”

Wrinkling her nose, Mai returns her greeting and says: “Hit a traffic jam after a massive departure delay.” Her left hand is wrapped around the strap of her pochette and she throws a glance towards the entrance. “Suki, I need to know something before I go in there.”

Suki nods and shifts involuntarily closer to the edge of the bench. Mai and her, they don’t usually interact too much even though Ty Lee is something like Suki’s best friend. They don’t really have as much in common as Suki sometimes wishes. So, if Mai needs her opinion on some matter or another, Suki thinks it must be vital.

“What do you think is more important,” Mai starts, her expression flickering between deadpan and concerned, “looking for Ty Lee or Zuko and Sokka?”

Suki snorts with laughter and asks: “Is this really something you should be asking?”

“I think,” Mai replies, and she seems peeved, “I want to act in the best interests of all parties concerned. I also think I could offend one of them by going to the other one first. And I am too tired to fall victim to their antics.”

Now Suki realises that Mai is serious, but she still can’t hold back teasing her a little: “You think Zuko could be offended if you look for Ty Lee first? Seems out of character to me.”

“Very funny,” Mai says, rolling her eyes at Suki. “You know better than me that Sokka’s a theatre kid at heart.” Which is true, unfortunately. “So, opinions?”

Suki shrugs and finally answers Mai’s question: “Last time we saw them, Sokka and Ty Lee were painting the dancefloor red. Best bet is walking straight into the crowd and taking potluck who’s the first one spotting you.”

Mai nods absentmindedly, then she turns away and heads for the entrance. She doesn’t make it that far before Suki calls after her: “Hurry up, Ty Lee’s been crying so much since you left.”

“Ty Lee cries crocodile tears every time we’re on the phone,” Mai retorts over her shoulder without turning back. “She’s going to live.”

When Mai enters the building while opening her pochette to retrieve her portemonnaie, Suki finally gives her attention back to Yue who looks positively alienated, so Suki attempts to explain Mai’s behaviour: “Don’t be fooled, Mai’s just as eager to see Ty Lee. You can’t pry them away from each other, even if you tried. Mai’s just … Mai’s not big on PDA, I guess. But you probably know that already.”

Yue blinks at her. “I,” she hesitates, “do not.”

Leaning into Yue’s space, Suki asks excitedly: “You wanna tell me she’s more public with her affection when I’m not around? This is outrageous. I think I deserve to see Mai all soppy and corny!”

“No,” Yue intercepts. It still looks like she’s trying to make sense of the situation. “I mean, I have never met Mai.”

Now it’s Suki’s turn to frown. “Didn’t you say that, you know, you told Mai Ty Lee is the prettiest?”

“I said I think I told Ty Lee’s girlfriend that Ty Lee is the prettiest,” Yue replies slowly. Which doesn’t make sense because Mai is Ty Lee’s girlfriend and Yue said those words to Suki.

Suki blinks. And she blinks. And she blinks. Then the realisation hits her, and she points to the entrance door of the club and then to herself. Her hand makes a weird circular motion, and she ascertains beyond doubt: “Mai is Ty Lee’s girlfriend.”

And when Yue’s only reaction consists of closing her eyes and throwing back her head, Suki declares: “Ty Lee is my best friend. Ty Lee is not my girlfriend.” (Her words may be tinged with the slightest bit of hysteria.)

“Oh,” is everything that slips past the smile growing on Yue’s face. She’s lifting her head, and when their eyes meet, Suki asks not without agitation: “Wait, let me get this straight: You thought I was dating Ty Lee? Because I’ve been flirting with you the whole night long and already began to think you just weren’t interested.” She snickers. “You can tell me if you’re not interested but if it’s because of Ty Lee I can assure you that she’s not my girlfriend. Never was, never will be.”

“Well, I must confess,” Yue replies, also snickering, “I was irritated because it seemed like you were trying to hit on me, but I also thought: Why would she try to hit on you, Yue, she’s got a gorgeous girlfriend. So, I didn’t try to dwell too long on the thought?”

“Oh, wow, you asked about Ty Lee’s and my meet cute, didn’t you?” Without thinking about, Suki reaches out and rests her hand on Yue’s elbow. “I thought you were really, really into Ty Lee. I felt kind of bad because I didn’t know if you knew that she’s in a committed relationship.” Suki hesitates but then she decides to throw all caution overboard. “And Sokka kind of said that you didn’t do the whole dating thing? So, I didn’t know if you were just trying to reject me as gently as possible.”

Yue splutters which shouldn’t make her more endearing, but it does. “Sokka is an overprotective dork.” She sighs deeply. “I don’t usually date, he’s not wrong. But I’m not not doing the whole dating thing.” Like an afterthought, she leans into Suki’s touch and Suki almost forgets to actually listen to the words coming out of Yue’s mouth.

(Concentrating is hard, okay, she’s so close to Yue. She can see the cut glass embedded into the tiny stars on her earlobe and the texture of the ivory, almost fan-shaped earring that Suki now knows is an uluaq-earring that Katara gave to her. She can see the moles dotted across Yue’s neck and cheek, and her dark roots. Suki sees her own distorted reflection in Yue’s eyes and the faint wrinkles around the corner of her eyes. She can make out a single freckle on the bridge of Yue’s nose. – It’s not that Suki doesn’t want to listen to Yue, but her beauty is truly distracting.)

“So,” Suki says softly, tearing away her gaze from Yue’s lips, “you do want to dance with me?”

Grabbing Suki’s free hand and enclosing it with both her own, Yue retorts: “Well, I want to dance with you but Sokka’s not entirely wrong? Dating is pretty exhausting, and I don’t often think someone’s interesting enough to try?”

“You know I’ve heard that everything that comes before but can be omitted,” Suki replies because she doesn’t know how to take Yue’s words. Yue’s either turning her down or asking her out. Which one it is? Fuck if Suki knows.

“Okay.” Yue starts drawing nonsensical shapes on the back of Suki’s hand, apparently turning over words on her tongue. (Suki’s about to melt. Just straight up dissolve into a puddle of confused contentment.) “I usually don’t date because people aren’t interesting to me, romantically speaking. This explanation, however, kind of ignores the fact that in the past some people didn’t want to date me because I’m … ace.” The hesitancy of Yue’s words hits Suki right in the heart (and elicits a rage that Suki can barely force down her throat).

But Suki doesn’t tell her some platitude about the validity of asexuality (because one must be a self-entitled twat to think that this is necessary in any kind of way; as if her asexuality were any less real without verbal confirmation) and Suki doesn’t tell her some truism about how it’s their loss that they didn’t keep her close (because duh). Instead, Suki says: “My last boyfriend broke up with me because, in his opinion, Ty Lee and I shouldn’t be touching so much.”

Her hand jerks up slightly to make air quotes but Yue’s hands are still holding it firmly between them. So, she shrugs her shoulders to make up for it.

“I think it’s nice,” Yue says. “You know, when I’m not currently obsessing over the fact that you’re touching my arm even though you’re clearly taken.” She smiles apologetically.

“Most people think it’s nice. At first.” Suki tilts her head. “But I think I would like to give it a shot. See how you like it a few weeks from now.”

Something in the back of Suki’s head rings out. Something about we grew up in the same neighbourhood but right before elementary school my family moved away. Something about I only knew Katara and Aang before coming here. But she doesn’t want to concentrate on the obstacles that lie before them, she wants to grab Yue’s hand and drag her indoors. She wants to dance underneath the neon lights. She wants to cup Yue’s face in her hands, brush her cheek with her thumb and take in the way her lashes cast a shadow on her skin. She wants to sink her fingers into Yue’s hairline. She wants to pull her impossibly close, and even closer still. She wants to drown in Yue’s laughter and drink in her every expression. She wants to listen to everything Yue is willing to tell. (She even wants Ty Lee’s triumphant cheers and her Seriously, I, like, totally called it!, and Sokka’s flummoxed expression.)

“Ask me again.” Yue’s grip on Suki’s hand tightens and Suki is positively overwhelmed.

Suki takes her hand off of Yue’s elbow and brings it down to their clasped hands. Cupping Yue’s hand in turn, she asks as desired: “Do you want to dance with me?”

Suddenly getting to her feet, Yue holds onto Suki’s hands and pulls her right up with her. They almost crash into each other, unable to catch themselves or the other, and laughter spills out of them into the eternal twilit night.

“Yes, I do want to dance with you,” Yue breathes out into the small space between them, and Suki almost lets go of her hands in excited surprise. “We should do it now.”

Yue turns around and pulls Suki with her, beelining to the entrance of the club and straight into the waiting mouth of a soft teethed beast. (Suki is ready. If she can turn a whole day from anxious apprehension to absolute perfection, then she can do this to. It’s just a dance with a pretty lady, Suki, come on, you got this! And she will.)