#we went thrifting two days ago and my two friends i went with dug through the bins for me

[bhaalsdeepbat]

i literally walked into this space knowing NO ONE, sat off to the side and told them, "I'm sorry, I'm like a cat. I have to just watch for a second, then I'll socialize more." and like. the entire group was just like YEAH MAKES SENSE. no one took it wrong. they just let me observe until i was ready to mesh in more. and now almost two years later I am now burrowed so deeply into this troupe that i wouldn't have the friends or opportunities i have without it.

[tobesobri]

𝓦elcome to a brand new story from me that I never thought I would be posting but here we are! This chapter is very much introductory, which is like obvious being the first chapter but tbh I don’t really do a lot of introducing characters right off the bat in a descriptive way often so this was new for me! Also, I have an old taglist from a while ago when I was originally going to post this, but I don’t want to randomly tag people who may no longer be interested SO if you’d like to be included on a taglist for upcoming chapters please let me know! Thank you! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter One: Where Happiness Begins (5.4k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

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There was something very different when she woke that Saturday morning. Maybe her breath smelled a little worse than normal. Maybe the sun shined a little brighter through her curtains than it was supposed to...

Maybe there was someone in her bed who didn’t belong there. 

“Oh my god.”

Friday night was not unlike every other night that week. There was an endless bag of chips she dug her Hot Cheeto dust covered fingers into and an over-watched series on Netflix open on her laptop in front of her. And when she wasn’t distracted by Sam and Dean Winchester, she was bawling her eyes out under the comfort of her thrifted quilt, staining her poor mismatched pillowcases.

Just like any given night.

And this Friday was no different. At least not until there was a knock on her door.

By the time she dried her face, it was almost completely unnoticeable she’d just been buried in hysterics only seconds ago.

“Harry’s coming over. You want anything from the store?” Will asked, the same Will who stuck them all together in the very beginning of splitting rent on an apartment four different ways.

He was the roommate who paid the most in rent and got the biggest room with his own private bathroom. One of the two roommates who constantly had his significant other over every night to make Y/N’s miserable time even worse. Between Will and Violet’s incessant need to take over the entire living room every weekend, Y/N was bound to end up in her own room alone crying her eyes out for no apparent reason.

Then there was her third roommate, James, who never bothered her because she was lucky to catch a fleeting glimpse of him every other week.

Y/N glanced at the phone he had pressed to his cheek, assuming Harry was on the other end of the line, on hold. Just the mention of his name sucked every sad little tear back into her skull. She didn’t know why, but having Harry around always seemed to do the trick.

Even though she barely spoke a word to him over the course of the last eighteen months she’d known him.

She buried her excitement about Harry coming over and frowned, answering as if she was she couldn’t care less even though... she cared way more than she should. “No.”

And before Will could protest, she shut the door in his face and retreated back to her bed.

Not every night was spent in agonizing spirals of self-pity and dread, but it came and went. Some days were fine. She was happy by the time she went to bed at night and didn’t have nightmares or anxiety that kept her up past her self-proclaimed bedtime. Most days, she ate regularly and went about her nightly routine with a genuine smile on her face. But recently, it had all gone to shit.

And there was no explanation. There never was. She didn’t just break up with a long-term boyfriend. No one called her an ugly bitch on the train home. Her boss didn’t yell at her for the umpteenth time about her inadequacies at work.

She was just... alone. Painfully and tragically alone.

She hated how black and white it was. That she was either happy to be alive or praying for a very large rock to fall on her and end it all. There was never an in-between and it made her feel like all her emotions were made up, like she wasn’t ever truly happy or she was sad over really stupid things.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before she heard from Will again. Before she heard more than just her roommate's voice through the thin walls. Before she could literally feel her

brain swell with more serotonin than she’d had in a long time when it was Harry’s voice she heard.

He was like an unusual ray of sunshine. Every time he was over at their apartment, it was like he was some kind of ancient sun god warding off all the evil spirits sitting on her shoulders. Which...she knew was quite strange, but she really couldn’t--nor did she want to--fight off how he made her feel.

Even if he wasn’t an internationally famous pop-sensation, she still couldn’t put her finger on why he made her feel like sunshine and butterflies whenever he was around. Which had been quite often recently on account of his upcoming album needing desperate help from Will.

Okay. She hadn’t heard a damn thing from the album, but the conversations they had about it weren’t always good. It was delayed, apparently, and Harry was in the middle of a massive writing block that led him to an impromptu trip to Barcelona the previous week.

And so now he was back. To work on the album, and, upon Y/N’s quiet arrival into the kitchen of her shared apartment, to pig out on junk food. Will hovered over the kitchen island while they figured out which movie, among a small stack of romantic comedies, to watch first.

Once Harry noticed her, he instantly stood up straight, shoving the last bit of a Kit-Kat bar into his mouth quickly to hide it from her; as if she cared about the Harry Styles munching on chocolate and sweets.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked Will, even though Harry was the only one paying her any attention. She didn’t often make eye contact with him, or even speak to him at all for that matter. But Harry was used to it. He was used to her mumbling and her short phrases. The way whenever he looked at her, she always looked away.

“Pretty Woman or Notting Hill?” Will turned to her finally, holding up both DVD boxes in his hands for Y/N to choose from, completely ignoring her previous question.

“Um... I’ve never seen them.”

Will rolled his eyes and placed the Blu-Ray boxes back down on the granite countertop, “Should’ve known that. You only watch scary shit.”

It was quiet after that for a moment. A long moment of Harry awkwardly glancing between Will and Y/N. Though his glances towards her did not come easily. Just the thought of looking at her was like his body went into fight or flight mode. Fight through the nerves and the butterflies in his stomach or fly the hell out of there.

She was like an unfriendly cat who didn’t seem to like him one bit, and it drove him insane. All his attempts to have a normal conversation with her had been fruitless. She never said more than one word to him at a time. Maybe two, if she was feeling generous. He didn’t get it at all, but he got used to it. Maybe she just didn’t have any room in her life for another person and certainly not for a person like him.

“Well, I vote for Pretty Woman,” Will said, making up everyone’s minds for them, and when he glanced at the other two, they didn’t seem to care. “Pretty Woman it is then. Y/N,” Will glanced at her exclusively while he began gathering snacks and the movie, “are you watching it too?”

“Uh.. no.” She continued into the kitchen, walking behind Harry toward the fridge and making every single nerve in his body light up. He had no idea why she, of all people on the planet he’d come into contact with, made him as nervous as she did. But, here he was. Stepping out of her way and swallowing the pit in his throat when he got a whiff of her all-too-familiar coconut scented shampoo.

And that scent just about made his head spin. It took him right back to the night he’d gotten drunk off his ass after a long day of work. She’d offered her bed to him since he was too tall for their couches, and she had been up late working herself anyways. Most of the night had been forgotten, but he very distinctly remembered stuffing his face into her pillowcases and letting the scent of her shampoo completely engulf his nostrils as he fell asleep. And it took him back to the following morning where he wobbled his hungover ass to the shower and accidentally (on purpose) used her coconut scented shampoo.

And then the entire rest of the day he smelled exactly like her and hadn’t gone a single minute without thinking of her. Thinking of her soft voice and what it would feel like to hear her saying his name just once. Thinking about the way she sometimes smiled at him like maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Thinking about her hair spread over her pillowcase and tucking loose strands behind her ear while she slept peacefully beside him...

Harry was also, very, very alone.

So alone that he spent more nights at other people’s homes, particularly Will’s, than his own. Even though he had an insanely expensive house all to himself up in the gated hills of Los Angeles, it was nothing compared to being surrounded by people he cared about instead of lifeless appliances.

He blamed it on the city. It always had a way of making him feel alienated. Even if it was the city that recognized him most often, it almost made him feel even more alone than he already was. Because none of the people he met along the way really knew him. They weren’t with him at the end of the day when he broke down on the floor in his bathroom. They didn’t see the dark parts of his life where he often wished he could take it all back just to be normal again. To have normal conversations and normal relationships with people he wasn’t constantly paranoid were trying to get something out of him.

So, in a way, he understood Y/N’s unwillingness to let him in, because he did it all the time. The thing he didn’t understand was why she had any reason to worry about the people in her life. No one was out to get her money or make themselves famous off of her. But there was a reason for it anyways, and it just about killed the curious cat in his mind every time he was at her apartment and she continued to not peep a single unnecessary word to him.

By the time he and Will had settled onto their respective spots in the living room, Harry tucked back into the cushions of their armchair and Will spread out on the loveseat opposite him, Y/N had already retreated back into her bedroom with her glass of ice water.

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.” Harry said, while Will skipped through the outdated commercials on the DVD.

Will’s lips turned up into a very knowing grin and he nodded, “She’s always been quiet, man. I told you not to take it personally.”

“How did you get her to talk?”

That was a question Harry had never asked before out of the countless stupid ones he had in the past. The stupidest was probably when he’d first met her and then proceeded to ask Will shortly after if Y/N was mute.

Will shrugged, “I’ve known her for a long time. It’s not like she goes on and on around me either though. That’s just how she is. And she probably just doesn’t like you that much.”

Harry huffed and sat back into his chair, giving up on it. He couldn’t force her to be his friend, as much as he wanted her to be.

The movie went on without Harry because he was completely lost in his own mind, however, Will seemed to be completely enthralled with Julia Roberts. Harry just couldn’t bring himself to focus on the television screen for more than a minute at a time.

It wasn’t until he heard a door down the hall click open that he brought himself back to reality and let his eyes wander to the sound behind him as Y/N stepped quietly out from her bedroom again. He knew she was the only other roommate home tonight and, yet, he still made the mistake of looking in her direction and, fucking finally, locking eyes with her. It was brief, but it was enough to stir up the enormous pot of butterflies in his stomach again.

Without a single word, she sat on the last unoccupied piece of furniture between the both of them, Harry still in a bit of shock and Will grinning with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Will asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” she mumbled back at him before reaching toward the opened bag of untouched Hershey kisses. “Can I have one of these?”

Will finally peered over at her from his spot and then glanced at Harry across the coffee table, “You’ll have to ask Harry. He brought them.”

Her hand froze and she reluctantly turned her attention toward Harry, which had been the first time since he arrived that she voluntarily looked at him. She had no fucking clue how she was going to sit there and ask Harry for one of his Hershey kisses. Or if she even wanted them desperately enough.

The question went unasked, but the look on her face said more than enough. She was already waiting for his answer. And upon seeing the look on her face, Harry couldn’t possibly find it in himself to force her to say a damn thing. So he just cleared his throat instead, “Uh, it’s alright. You can have as many as you want.”

He watched as she grabbed a couple foil sealed chocolates and settled back into the corner of her own loveseat again, never willing to admit that he’d bought them especially for her. Because it had somehow managed to become common knowledge that they were her favorite candy and while wandering the local corner market, he spotted them and thought of her. His brain at the time thought there might be some minuscule possibility that if he brought one of her favorite foods over she might eventually start to like him.

Even if that didn’t happen though, he was still reeling from that one brief moment of interaction for the entire rest of the night. Splurging on an overpriced package of cavities had been well worth it.

It wasn’t until the movie ended that both Harry and Y/N realized Will was dead asleep. That he was no longer conscious enough to use the remote resting on his chest and turn the movie off. So, after a little while of staring at the credits, Y/N stood and grabbed it, flipping the controls until she brought up regular TV channels and then eventually settled for a horror movie Harry had never seen and had no intentions to. But, if it meant he got more time with Y/N, he’d sit through just about anything she wanted to watch.

And then finally, the sugar he’d consumed got to his head.

“Do you always watch scary movies before bed?” He asked, completely lost in his daydreams and not fully realizing he’d asked her a full-blown question until it was out of his mouth. Once he came to his senses, he wanted to shove every last word back into his mouth and pretend he never said anything.

That was, until a couple silent moments went by and she finally said something. “Makes the nightmares more interesting.”

He didn’t expect her to say anything at all, and so for her to say that, he had no idea how to respond to her. Was she being... sarcastic? He didn’t even know she was capable of being funny.

So he laughed, not too loudly in case she wasn’t joking. But all his worries were relieved when she glanced at him and giggled too.

He didn’t dare bring up any of the questions floating around in his mind in fear that she’d never speak another word to him ever again once he’d finally managed to break through the walls somehow. Now that he’d made groundbreaking progress with her, there was no way he was asking her why she never talked to him or why she was so quiet. So he kept a fine-tuned filter over what words came out of his mouth.

“Does that mean you have uninteresting nightmares then?” Harry really did try his damndest to think of anything to say that would get her to keep talking, because he wasn’t done listening to her voice or hearing bits of her brain spill out. He wanted to know everything about her, from her mouth only, but he also didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

“Only on Sundays.”

“Why Sundays?” He asked through a muffled laugh, curious as to what she was on about.

“Because then the nightmares are about showing up at work naked on Monday morning... and that’s not very interesting.”

He couldn’t help the widespread grin on his face, or the way his eyebrows furrowed at how fucking weird she actually was. And she wasn’t even that weird. She was kind of normal, but this entire time he thought she wasn’t like him at all, so seeing her say things like a normal person was... weird.

“So what kind of nightmares does watching Annabelle at...” Harry checked his watch, and went into momentary shock at the time, but also couldn’t care less because he wasn’t leaving now, “two in the morning get you?”

She smiled, and refusing to look at him, settled for planting her eyes on the television instead. “Walking into work naked on Monday morning but,” she held up a finger in anticipation and Harry smiled wider, “all my coworkers are creepy dolls.”

“Guess at that point it doesn't matter if you’re naked then.”

She thought about for a moment before giggling at what he said, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

There was silence between them again, but it was different this time. It was peaceful. It wasn’t full of awkward tension and things Harry wished she would say. It felt like two friends hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you sleeping here or...” She finally asked him and he wasn’t sure if that was her way of asking him to leave or not. But something about it made him feel like she was building her walls back up again.

“Oh, uh... if that’s okay. Think I’m too tired to drive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to know because I can sleep in Violet’s room and you can have my bed like before. If you want.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, that the short, uncomfortable couch would be fine. That he would get over the pain in his legs and back in the morning because he didn’t want to invade her space, again. Unfortunately for him, he already had the knowledge of what her pillows smelled like and how soft her sheets were and he desperately wanted to invade her space again.

She nodded. “It’s no problem. I’ll go clean up a little. Just let yourself in.”

She was gone before he could get another word out. And while he listened to her footsteps as she walked away from him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, resting his neck back on the chair. It felt like he’d just been through a fever dream, like none of it was real. Not only did he have a normal conversation with her, but now she was offering her bed to him again as well.

He needed a moment to process things.

When she got done tidying up her room and replacing her blanket with a clean one for Harry, he appeared cautiously in the doorway, yawning as he watched her gather some of her things to take to Violet’s room directly across the hall.

“I turned the TV off and the lights. Will’s still quite dead out there.”

She smiled to herself and gave him a very fleeting glance before picking the last item she needed up off her side table and then finally facing him. “It’s all yours.”

Ushering him in, he stepped into her room like he wasn’t actually allowed to. Like he had never been there before. Like he hadn’t nearly puked all over her poor white bed sheets that one night.

She replaced his spot in the doorway as he sat down on the edge of her bed. He stared at her back as she walked away, not getting his hopes up about her saying anything else to him. So, when she did turn to face him again, it just about knocked the air out of him.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to not drool on my pillows this time?”

He glanced at the top of her bed where all her pillows were neatly stacked and cringed at the horrible memories he had and at the fact that he’d actually drooled on her pillows. Like a fucking animal. Like a dog who couldn’t control himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that...” He looked at her again, genuinely apologetic and completely embarrassed by his past, drunken self.

“It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly, “Night.”

“G’night.” Harry mumbled just before she left and closed the door behind her.

And in all the talk about drool, it wasn’t until he was cuddled under her blanket and up against her mound of pillows that he realized something. She’d said his name, out loud, to his face, where he could hear it and obsess over it and never get sick of it. He repeated it over and over in his head and kept himself awake just thinking about the way it had sounded and if he’d ever get to hear her say his name again.

The faint hum of voices right outside the door woke him slightly. His entire body was still asleep except for about half of his brain and one eye that peeked open to investigate the noise. He could tell it was early, though, his eyes stung and his body ached to go fully back to sleep.

He could make out Violet’s voice, which confused his foggy brain because he swore Will had mentioned she’d be gone all weekend, and yet here she was yelling in the hallway and interrupting his sleep.

“Please just sleep on the couch then, I need to be alone right now.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at how distressed she sounded and flinched when the door across the hall just about slammed shut.

He heard an exasperated sigh and then squeezed his eyes shut when he saw movement under the door to Y/N’s bedroom just moments before it opened. He pretended to be asleep for as long as he could, listening to the footsteps as they carefully wandered into the room.

And then a hushed, but very exclamatory, “Ow!” got him to roll onto his back and knuckle his eyes open.

She looked at him apologetically while grasping the big toe of her right foot. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His voice was a lot groggier and a lot more raspy than she expected it to be. And she kind of hated herself for enjoying the view, a little too much, of Harry waking up in her bed. While she got her thoughts under control, he continued. “Did Violet just kick you out?”

She simply nodded and went back to digging into her cabinets for spare pillows.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Four-thirty.”

Then he slowly pulled her blanket off, still dressed in his shirt and joggers from last night but without his socks and rings he’d removed before bed.

She immediately turned to him, however. “You don’t have to get up. I’m fine on the couch.” “No, I would feel bad.”

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it.” She got him to stop what he was doing and lay back into the bed again while she opened up more cabinet doors to find her extra bed sets.

He cleared his throat after a little while of watching her, and gathered up the largest bundle of courage he ever had, to say what he was about to say next. With nervous, shaking fingers and a cold sweat on the back of his neck, he voiced the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life.

“We can just both sleep here... if that’s fine.”

She froze and he knew he’d made a mistake. Why in the actual fuck did he just suggest that? Maybe he was sleep deprived. Maybe he was still reeling from last night. Maybe he had some false sense of security with her and completely forgot about the fact that last night had been the first time she’d said that many words to him. Of course she wasn’t about to climb in bed with him.

“Oh, um...” She finally found a couple pillows and pulled them from the cabinet while turning her attention back to Harry. She could not deny how desperately she wanted to crawl back into her own bed. And have a warm body next to her, which she had literally never had. No one had ever slept in her bed besides Harry, and definitely not with her. Sure, she’d slept in friends’ beds before on occasion, but this was different. It was her own bed and this was Harry, not her college friends.

So maybe it was the sleep-deprivation talking. 

“Okay.”

In all forms but physical, his jaw had just hit the floor. Never in a million years or in any other infinite alternate realities would he have thought they’d end up here, with Harry sliding over to one side of the bed to make room for her while she crawled in beside him. Her queen size gave lots of room in between them, so it wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was just two, very tired loose-knit friends sharing a bed for a few hours.

“Goodnight, again.” Harry mumbled, realizing too late that it was technically morning now.

“Mhm,” was the only response he got out of her when she curled up under the blanket they shared and went straight back to sleep with her back to him.

And once his nerves settled, he did the same.

It was a lot easier than either of them thought possible. And for a long while, they stayed on their respective sides of the bed. But once she was lost in dreamland and he was already letting out soft snores, there was no control over what happened next. She turned and cuddled right up to his side as if her unconscious mind thought he was some kind of pillow to cradle. She wasn’t all to blame, though, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Closer than either of them had been to another living being in a long time. As close as her forearm spread across his chest and her head nestled into his neck. Close enough to smell his cologne but not realize why or stop any of it from happening. Not that she would have wanted to if she had any clue what she was doing. Not that he would have wanted to either.

With his hand digging into her waist, they both were mildly aware of what was going on, but both were also still too lost in their exhaustion. So, it just happened. And they held each other tighter as the minutes passed and the dreams took over once again. Because they both needed it. To hold and to be held. To feel the pressure of another person and the heartbeat on their skin. And all the loneliness in their bones melting away with each other’s touch as if they’d never been alone in the first place.

The only thing that could ever separate them was the knock on her door at nine a.m. Everything was a little fuzzy at first before she blinked a few times and realized that what she’d been using as a pillow wasn’t exactly stuffed with cotton and lined in silk. With a gasp, she pulled away from him abruptly. Ceasing all contact. Not because she wanted to necessarily, but because she would rather Harry not find out she was all over him like she had just been.

“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly in disbelief, mentally punching herself in the face for what she’d just woken up to.

But her embarrassment only skyrocketed when she dragged her eyes up his neck to his chin, then his nose and finally saw him staring right back at her with furrowed brows like he was just as confused as she was. When he glanced at the door is when she moved to do something about it.

Quickly, she pulled the covers off of herself and opened her door only the smallest amount possible. Just enough to peak her head out, but not enough for Will to see Harry in her bed. Where she’d just been sleeping right next to him. Or... right on top of him, as it seemed.

“Did Harry go home last night?”

With absolutely no plan to go along with her lie, she still figured it was the better option than to admit to Will she’d been in the same bed as Harry. That she’d been all fucking over him for who knows how long.

“Um, yeah. After you fell asleep.”

From behind her, Harry quietly smacked his hands over his face and fell back dramatically into her fluffy pillows.

“Oh, ok. Vi won’t come out of her room, but I’m going to go get breakfast from Jade’s. You want anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Her words fused together in a flash, just trying to get the least amount of information out as quickly as possible so she didn't accidentally say something suspicious.

She shut the door on him with a smile before Will could even offer her a pastry from their most loved local cafe. Once that was dealt with, and she had a moment to gather her thoughts as she stared at her door, she slowly turned around to face Harry.

Her cheeks were probably bright red and full of embarrassment seeing him there amongst her sheets; as if once she had turned around he wouldn’t actually be there, like maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But no.

He was there. And he was very real. And very much looking at her like they were both insane.

“I’m sorry,” they said it at the exact same time, cutting each other off from saying anything else.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, um...” Harry started once he found an opportunity to speak again, but he didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. He wasn’t sorry for how they’d ended up. He had the best four and a half hours of sleep he’d ever had.

“I shouldn’t have been like... all on you like that.” She averted her eyes when she spoke, not able to look him straight on and admit it. And she knew she was only apologizing because she felt embarrassed and like she had to. She felt like she’d invaded Harry’s space and took advantage of him.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She just shrugged. Nothing he said at this point could make her feel any less horrible about it. And even so, some part deep down inside of her, when she finally looked at him again, wanted to get right back into that spot with him for another few hours.

It just felt... right. And even though she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about, she knew it wasn’t her usual nightmare. She had felt safe and secure, and not so alone anymore, sleeping beside him like that and she felt stupid knowing it would never happen again.

“I should get going then. Before Will comes back and realizes I didn’t actually leave.” Harry let out an exasperated laugh as he began getting up, sitting himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her as he stretched. The fabric of his shirt tugged along his muscles as he flexed them awake, and she grew far too overwhelmed thinking about the fact that those fucking arms of his had been around her for the better half of the morning. She could still feel him holding onto her and his grip at her side.

She needed a very cold shower and some fresh air.

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Cheap Thrills (baon)

Summary: Stretch can get a lot of entertainment out of a thrift store find.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it here!

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Stretch loved to pick up old books at the thrift shop. There were so many gems that might get lost at a traditional bookstore, like his trusty copy of ‘How to Teach Spanish to Dogs.’

Romance novels were cheap and plentiful, and he got them by bagful for Blue, who never much seemed interested in finding his own romance but loved reading about others. Old reference books filled with outdated information that was still interesting to read about, seeing what people used to believe, until science or society proved them wrong.

Then there were specialty finds.

Stretch wasn’t even two steps through the front door before he held up his prize, announcing happily, “look what i found!”

Edge barely looked up from his laptop, “If it has even one clown on it—"

“No clowns.” That was a prize he’d be sure to stash behind the shower curtain for maximum effect.

For once Stretch didn’t mind Edge working a little overtime at home. Kept him off his feet, gave all those healing juices a chance to settle in.

But a little distraction never hurt. Stretch flopped on the sofa and settled his head right into Edge’s lap, ignoring his exasperated sigh as he held out the book he’d found.

The cover was old and stained, but the title was still readable, ‘The Congregational Cook Book’ and in small letters beneath that, ‘edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church of Ebott, 1915.’

He knew his baby well. As soon as Edge stopped glaring an actually looked at the book, a flicker of interest made an appearance. He set his laptop on the coffee table, ignoring Stretch’s exaggerated sputters of suffocation as his forward lean threatened to smother him with Edge’s shirt, then took the book.

“A cookbook?”

“a really old cookbook!” Stretch enthused, “like, a century old. i thought maybe you’d like to try one it out. See how it compares to the youtube generation of cooking.”

“That does sound interesting,” Edge flipped through the book, reading aloud, “Salmon omelet, no, thank you, green tomato pickles, hot water gingerbread, hm, apple tarts. I do have apples, how does that sound?”

“baby, anything you make sounds like mana from heaven.” And at Edge’s raised brow bone, Stretch admitted, “except risotto, okay, but that’s less you than a general dislike of the genre.”

Edge nudged Stretch off his lap and stood, heading into the kitchen with book in hand. Normally, Stretch would’ve tossed him a fair thee well and let him get to it, but this time, he followed Edge through the swinging door. He was sort of curious if there were any differences in a recipe from a hundred years ago to now, and hey, science, right?

Not that he planned on helping with the cooking process, he was here strictly as an observer, and he plopped down into one of the chairs that surrounded their ‘dining room table’, “so, how much longer are we eating at the card table?”

“Not long,” Edge retrieved a large bowl from under the counter and a set of measuring cups from the cupboard before tying on an apron. “I’m working on a plan for our new kitchen layout. As soon as it’s done, I’ll have the builders get started on it.”

“uh huh, no rush, i was only curious,” Stretch propped his chin on one hand. “you do have a lot on your plate right now, babe. and there’s your whole mental health assessment you still need done.”

Really, it was sort of impressive how much Stretch could glean from slightest change in his husband’s expression. A normal person would think there was no change, but Stretch was good with languages, spent years learning Edge-ese. He knew a twist of distaste when it saw it, “Yes. There is that.”

Any other comment about it was effectively blocked by Edge’s renewed focus on the cookbook, reading the recipe aloud beneath his breath. His brow bone slowly furrowed, concentration replaced with dismay. Which…it was a cookbook, not a grimoire of early twentieth century curses. Wasn’t it?

“babe?” Stretch asked cautiously, “what is it?”

“What kind of recipe is this!” Edge exclaimed. He picked up the book and read aloud, “Eggs, oil, fresh butter or lard, sugar, baking powder, as much flour as it needs. Must be soft as an earlobe, thicker than cake.”

“uh…” Stretch scratched at the back of his skull. “and?”

“That's it. That's the entire recipe. There’s no measurements, no directions, no temperature for baking!” He slapped the book back down on the counter-top. “There are no apples listed! How can this be a recipe for apple tarts without apples? How in the name of the unknown am I supposed to gauge the softness of an earlobe when I don’t have ears?”

All great questions, except Stretch was in possession of exactly zero answers. “does seem a little speciest against those of us without earlobes.”

Edge glared at the cookbook as if by his will alone answers to his questions would come, which was why Stretch was a little surprised when Edge said abruptly, "Let me see your phone."

"yeah, sure," Stretch said, slowly handing it over. Not like he had any secrets or anything and while Edge might change his own passwords at least once a month for security reasons, he’d been using the first 6 digits of Pi since he got the phone. “why?”

“Because I left mine in the living room.” Edge tapped the screen impatiently holding it out as it began dialing out over speakerphone.

A sleepy voice answered, "'lo? Wassup, Boney Marony. "

"Jeff,” Edge said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to engage in wordplay with my husband later. Right now, I need you to come over so I can feel your ears."

A long moment of silence. "That’s very specific. Okay, I'll bite, give me five."

It was more like ten minutes, with Edge sitting impatiently across from Stretch, who was engaged in a furious game of Words With Friends on his newly retrieved phone. Until the light knock came on the front door followed by Jeff shambling into the kitchen. He looked like they’d woken him from a nap, his hair was smashed flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He scratched at his t-shirt covered belly and yawned out, "You know, before I met you guys, I never got calls like this."

“sounds to me like you needed a little more excitement in your life,” Stretch said cheerily.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. He limped determinedly over, stripping off his gloves as he went, and without warning began to vigorously fondle Jeff’s earlobes. Jeff squeaked out a mousy sound, his eyes wide as golf balls as he stared up at Edge.

Well. Wasn’t like Andy didn’t know why he was here.

“easy, babe,” Stretch winced, “he might need a little foreplay before you go right for the lobes.”

“I’m checking his ears, not his testicles,” Edge said curtly, even as he leaned down to peer closely at the ears in question.

That remark made Stretch and Jeff speak in unison,

“holy shit, wow, just tossing that out there, huh.”

“Okay, I’m good to help a friend out, but I am drawing the line at ball grabbing.”

Edge ignored them both. He let Jeff go and limped back to his gathered ingredients, already starting to measure them into the bowl, “Thank you, Jeff, that will be all.”

Welp, that sounded like a dismissal. Stretch climbed to his feet, jerking his head towards the door. “c’mon, andy, we can take in a flick while you’re here, if you want.”

Jeff was still a little wobbly, gingerly reaching up to touch one of his well-inspected ears as he followed Stretch out, “Do I want to know what that was all about?”

Stretch shrugged, “cooking.”

“Cooking,” Jeff repeated. He mouthed it again, soundlessly, then shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to know, plausible deniability is probably better. So, he asked for me to help, why?”

“well, how many other humans does edge know that he can call up and ask?” Stretch asked reasonably. He picked up the remote and turned on Netflix. “and don’t say your honey because we both know he’d just hang up, especially without having the proper forms filled out first.”

“Glad to be the go-to guy for illicit cooking-related bodily inspections.” Jeff joined Stretch on the sofa, settling in. “Classic Twilight Zone, huh? Good choice.”

The first episode was mostly over by the time Edge came out with a tray with a half-dozen golden-brown treats that brimmed with appley goodness. Stretch and Jeff dug in, mumbling thank you’s around their mouthfuls and Stretch was already on his second one when he noticed Edge was scribbling notes. He chewed and swallowed his current bite and asked, “what are you doing?”

“Gauging your reactions,” Edge said, still writing, “I kept a close track of the ingredient measurements that I used so that I can make changes for the second batch. Are they too dry? Is the pastry tough?”

“Tastes fine to me,” Jeff said around his mouthful.

“Crisp? Chewy? Is there enough spice?” Edge persisted. The two of them did their best to answer him around bites and finally, Edge made a satisfied sound and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh,” Jeff snagged another tart. “How many batches you think he’s gonna make?”

Stretch shrugged, “i do my experiments and he does his.”

“His taste better.”

“my science isn’t the kind you lick.”

“So far it hasn’t involved you groping my ears, either,” Jeff took a bite and groaned around it, “Worth it, man, but the balls are still off-limits.”

“sounds reasonable.” Stretch snagged the last tart and sank back to watch the pig-faced doctor demanding a needle to sedate his patient, happily waiting to review batch number two.

Hey, he got a snack and a show, all for the price of a thrift store book. Now all he needed to do was sneak that clown statue into the bathroom, but eh, he might wait a while on that. This was enough entertainment for one day.

-finis-

Notes:

So, the recipe in question has been slightly modified from one in a reddit post and the poster had a couple of similar questions as Edge, although their solution wasn't the same. 😂 I couldn't resist writing how Edge would react to finding such a recipe.

The ‘The Congregational Cook Book, edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church, 1915.’ is real enough and I own it. Some of recipes and their measurements are very interesting in comparison to what we see now!

[hopetofantasy]

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 4

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, self harm, rape/non-con elements, emotional manipulation, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self loathing Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

SURPRISE: I’m going to add a FIFTH CHAPTER (EPILOGUE) TOO!

——————————————————

CHAPTER 4: 'No one sees myself like you do’

——————————————————

He knew he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere. 

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away. 

He hated pain.

But...

He loved pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

Breathe.

Why?

Breathe.

Why should he?

Please?

Pain was good.

Just once.

He wasn’t normal.

Come on, breathe for me.

Was he ever normal?

Oh god. Come on!

He was a monster. 

Goddammit, breathe!

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

“Please, Robbe...”

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

 -^-

 He didn’t remember how he got there. 

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace. 

Robbe liked that. 

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with what now?’s. Slight kisses to temples.

“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!” 

“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!” 

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late night in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else? 

A cute giggle.

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. “Yes, no problem”, he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. “Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe wasn’t.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he there? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxious pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories, that of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table. 

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. “I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”, he said the first time. 

Right before the fire alarm went off. 

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. “They still love each other,” Robbe had heard from her. “Why won’t they go back together?” With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. “What can we do about it?”

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

A beep on his cell.

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down. 

A text.

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all the evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally. 

- “I’m coming to talk to you” -

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

 -^-

 “Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”

“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”

As if he cared...  Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off. He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? He was sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?

“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.

His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm...

“I want it now. Don’t give me that bullshit about lubing it up and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”

Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this.

“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”

“What do you mean? You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his right nipple.

“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”

Silence. 

Pull away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, like you jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”

Wouter’s face contorted in a cheap grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”

Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen at this point of the evening. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was.  He was going to shut his mouth now. 

It only took him a half hour. 

“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”

Ice.

His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But caught him, before Wouter could step foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:

“Don’t. Even. FUCKING. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”

Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth.

“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fakes instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”

Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms were standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least one head bigger than him.

And yet... So tempting...

“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”

Poison.

In his veins.

Deafening silence. 

“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”

Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches.

Black irises taking over the grey. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Shouting. Screaming. Crying. 

Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping. 

Falling. Falling. Falling. 

Pain.

Black.

And a few days later: 

“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm okay? It’s nothing to worry about, okay sweetie?” 

Followed by a soft:

“Okay, paps. I won't.”

 -^-

 “It’s better this way...”

“I know.”

“You know this is the only way.”

“I knów.”

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

“Robbe...”

“Sander, don’t...”, the other, tiny boy whispered. “Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.” His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?” A pained smile of both. “I meant it, schat. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...” Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt. 

“It’s okay”, his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”

“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.” 

“Me neither...”

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself. 

“Chill...”

“Chill..."

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a whole lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With mischief on his face.

“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”

 And waiting he did.

[cheshiremadd]

Superfluous

Chapter 1

AO3

Idea from a discord conversation that I’m fairly positive was started by @alexseanchai

Adrien and Marinette think they're in a polyamorous relationship. They're wrong.

-

Hi, Adrien, I was wondering if

Do you think you could

Hey, purely hypothetical….How receptive would you be to going on a date with me?

I’ve tried to tell you this so many times and I know you deserve to be told in person but I’m just not sure I ca

Marinoodle: Can we have lunch today? I have something I need to talk to you about.

Marinoodle: Alone. Don’t tell Alya and Nino?

Marinoodle: Sorry. I just. I’ll explain at the cafe.

She texted Adrien in the early morning. It was the easiest way, and still put her on the hook. If she started this with those damn eyes of his looking at her, and the eyes of everyone else, no way would she get the words out. It’d be troisiéme all over again.

She reminded herself that Chat believed in her, and she can’t let him down. She can’t go to their next patrol and tell him that she chickened out. It’s entirely unlike when Alya would...encourage her. Alya pushed, and sometimes didn’t think of things like consequences, and generally didn’t have to deal with things like anxiety. For her, the best way to do things was just to do them. Like that old American Nike meme. Chat fed her a quiet strength. Cooled her buzzing nerves. Said that she was capable, but that it was okay if she wasn’t ready. And Ladybug hated to disappoint him.

Her phone buzzed.

Agreste My Case: Of course!

Agreste My Case: Is everything okay?

Marinoodle: Cool. Cool. Everything’s cool. Grand really.

“Marinette!” Her Maman called from below. “If you don’t hurry, you won’t have time for breakfast.”

She was still wearing pajamas. Shit!

Marinette shot out of bed, thanking her lucky stars and Past Marinette for leaving out clothes for today. It was...well, it was Chat’s favorite outfit of hers. Past Marinette thought she could do with the confidence boost. And the reminder. When she’d shown it to Tikki, the tiny kwami had heartily approved.

It was a prom dress she found on clearance at the local thrift. The original was strapless, floor-length, and had rainbow stripes. She’d removed all the layers of the skirt but the outside and the lining, shortened it to hit just above her knee, and added a fitted denim jacket. The overall effect was airy and fun, and great for a day in the sun, and Chat had said that the sky in her eyes reflected in her outfit. Marinette had blushed, but laughed, and said, “Okay, okay, that pun deserves a cookie.”

That memory carried her through her morning routine. Teeth brushed, hair brushed, hair down? Chat liked it down. Hair in messy bun? Adrien said he thought it was cute. Hm. She shook her head; she didn’t have time for this. She’d leave it up and could take it down later if she needed something to fiddle with. Grab breakfast (two croissants in a white paper sack). Out the door. Cross the street. Stare at the school building.

She can’t do this. Why did she think she could? Alya’s going to know something’s up. Alya always knew. They’re all going to know. The whole class is going to take one look at her and know and be ready to laugh at her bumbling attempts to confess to the man she loves and Lila would be there and she’d smirk and say, Oh Marinette. You know I’m dating Adrien; he confessed to me weeks ago--

“-ette. Marinette? Are you okay?” A hand across her shoulder blades jolted her out of her spiral and two full feet away. Adrien raised his hands in defense, and Marinette could feel the embarrassment across her face. Her eyes hid behind her hands. A small whine left her mouth. She stewed in her mortification for a moment.

Then Adrien chuckled. And she peeked through her fingers. The early morning sunlight glittered in his hair. His eyes as green as the thick turf at the park. His teeth pushed into his lower lip, a failed attempt to hide his grin.

“It is far too early for this.” She closed her eyes again.

“You say that every morning, Marinette.” Kwamis, she loved the way he said her name. Slowly, intentionally, as if each syllable were important. Mar~i~nette.

“Yeah? Well, I mean it this time.” She grumbled.

They stood in silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Marinette could feel her nerves rising again. She was making this weird. She really thought she was over this.

“Marinette,” Adrien called to her, softly. “Is everything okay? Your texts sounded kind of...Is it Lila again?”

Her eyes snapped open and hands flew to her purse for her phone. Tikki dove deeper to avoid being spotted. “No, no!” She opened the text message app and grimaced. Her response sat unsent.

“Got caught up and didn’t send your reply?” His relief showed in his grin. That he picked up on what happened so quickly was both embarrassing and pleasing. Her face was going pink again. Time for a distraction.

She shoved the bakery bag at him. “C-croissant?”

He blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but went along with it. Thankfully. His delight was clear when he opened the bag.

“Croissants are my favorite,” he sighed.

“You say that about all of our pastries, Adrien,” she parroted.

“Yeah, well, I mean it this time.” He mocked her in kind as he dug one out. He looked at it, and then looked at her, and she could see the question brewing.

“I’m actually not all that hun-mmpff!” Marinette glared and growled through a mouthful of croissant. Adrien just smiled cheerfully and pulled out the second.

“We should really get to class, you know.”

-

They got to class. And the class after that. And the class after that. Marinette couldn’t say what the lessons had been. She remembered his gold-spun hair beside her. The fidgety edits she made to a design that just wouldn’t come together. Three other designs she flipped to when sudden, but ultimately brief, inspiration hit. His thigh pressing against hers. She always wondered if he did that on purpose. She supposed she was about to find out.

Suddenly, the lunch bell was upon them.

“Lunch at the bakery? Just wait ‘til you hear what the tweebs did last night! They’re on lockdown for the foreseeable future.” Alya looked at her expectantly until she went cross eyed. She pulled her glasses off and squinted at them.

“O-oh, uh-” No, no, no! Of all days for Alya to not attempt the matchmaking! On second thought, she was glad for the lack of expectations.

“I’d love to join,” Lila cut in, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “but Mom got reservations for that new five-star by the embassy.”

How nice of Lila to take herself out of the way so neatly.

“Nice! You’ll have to tell us all about how fancy it is.” Alya squinted at her while she cleaned the lenses with her shirt. Ugh. Marinette refrained from rolling her eyes, barely.

Lila’s smug smile dropped when Adrien popped up behind Marinette. “Actually, Alya, Marinette and I are going to find somewhere to study for that maths test that’s tomorrow.”

She could kiss him for that.

Alya squinted at her glasses again before putting them back on. “Oh! Nino and I’ll go with you, then.”

Lila looked like she wanted to jump in, too, Marinette could tell, but she couldn’t when she supposedly had a lunch date already.

“No offense, Al, but we want to actually study. Not that nauseating couple thing that you and Nino do when you’re only pretending to study.” He grinned and winked.

Marinette decided to help him out with some gagging noises, smile hidden behind a polite hand.

Alya huffed good-naturedly and flapped her hand at them. “Fine, fine, you two go be boring and study. But I’ll remember that comment when you get a girl, Agreste, because I know Mr. Heart Eyes is going to be ten times worse.”

Alya went off to find Nino and Lila went off to do...whatever Lila did. Marinette gave Adrien a half-smile as he shuffled her out of school, still mostly trapped in her own thoughts.

That squiggly feeling was back in the pit of her stomach. Like a tiny venomous snake writhing around, and she was just waiting for it to bite. Thanks, Alya! Why did she think she could do this? Adrien’s one of her best friends! Surely if he wanted more, he would have said so by now. He’s never shown interest in anyone outside of Kagami (briefly) and Ladybug and offhandedly mentioning that Luka’s cute (though no one else knew about that, he’d sworn her to secrecy).

Again, he broke through her cloud of doubts.

“That was awfully accommodating of Lila to remove herself from our plans like that.”

She looked up at him and found a strained smile. Argh! Get it together, Marinette! You know he’s picking up on your weirdness and thinking it’s his fault!

Ugh. Her inner voice sounded like Tikki. Right, as usual.

“I had that exact thought! It’s got to be the single nicest thing she’s ever done for me.” His nervousness faded into a real laugh, and then they were back to normal. She hardly noticed the walk to the cafe while they giggled and teased. He held the door open and she blushed pink as she ducked inside. The line to order wasn’t too long, but Marinette was nervous again by the time they reached the front. She managed to give her order, but stuttered her protest when Adrien swooped in to pay for her.

They were about to sit down when Marinette’s hands reached for her backpack and didn’t find it. She had her purse (and thus, Tikki), thank Kwamis, but everything else...

“I left my backpack at school!” Her hands went to her head and her whole face scrunched up. Adrien shuffled the strap of his bag when she looked up at him. “I have to go back to school and get it! Oh, but by the time I do and come back here, there’ll barely be time to eat, and, and, then we won’t be able to talk and I’ll have to sit on this for days because you don’t always get free time and it just be my luck to not see you for a week after this, and you can’t just say this kind of thing over text, well you can but that doesn’t mean you should, and -are you okay? You’re shuffling your bag around an awful lot; are your shoulders hurti…”

Marinette cut off and stared at the pink backpack strap that wrapped around Adrien’s shoulder. She huffed. “You could have said something. Instead of letting me panic.”

“It was cute.” He gave her a fond smile. “You’re cute.”

Her legs gave out. Good thing she was already in the process of sitting down; she landed in her chair instead of the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, and kept going. “I meant to tell you earlier: I like your dress! Is-is it one of yours?”

Her already pink cheeks were turning red, she just knew it. She’d be as red as her suit, soon. This boy was trying to kill her. “T-thanks! It’s a thrift buy; I, um just changed it up a bit.”

“Oh! An upcycle!” He set their backpacks down and took his seat much more gracefully than she had. But, then, he’s a model.

“Ah, well, technically an upcycle is where you take one thing and turn it into something totally different. What I did is considered an alteration.”

He chuckled. She was so lucky, to be someone he could laugh freely with. “I see. Regardless ...you make it beautiful.”

She stared into his eyes, caught by them. Bright and clear and honest. The way affection crinkled the corners of them. She knew those would be his wrinkles, when he gets them. Laugh lines and love crinkles, like her parents.

It was the perfect moment to speak, she knew. If only she could bring herself to do it. Why couldn’t she? He’d complimented her confidence outfit, carried her bag here, paid for her lunch, said she was cute. And it...he said she made it beautiful. But the way he said it. The way he said it, he sounded like he meant she was beautiful. She just needed to open her mouth, and say-

“I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and her face exploded in color. She could see his doing the same. Her usual reflex reaction rose up, take it back, take it back, she could still fix this rebutted with no, this was the whole point of lunch, to confess, see if he was interested to be countered by he hasn’t said anything yet, oh, what have I done.

“I-I didn’t- I mean I did- love is such a-”

He cut off her panicked babble. “You’re in love with me?”

His tone said he didn’t quite believe it, but the look on his face added that he dared to hope anyway. He was looking down at her (even sitting, their height difference was..much) and he had this softness to his eyes that she didn’t see him use with anyone else. It reminded her of Chat sitting with her, gently telling her that her feelings weren’t going to destroy hers and Adrien’s friendship, building her courage.

She couldn’t do anything other than give him the truth.

“Have been for awhile.” The effect her words had was immediate. All that hope and, dare she say it, longing turned into something much brighter, something beautiful and gentle.

“Me too.”

When Marinette looked back at this moment, far into the future, she’d recognize it for what it was: undeniable proof that she was going to marry this man someday. All she could think while in the moment, however, was she clearly spent way too much time with Chat Noir and she’s going to kill that cat bastard.

“You’re in love with yourself, too?”

The words came out of her mouth, and she was mortified. She’d done it. She’d confessed to her years old crush. He actually accepted her feelings. They did the sappy staring in the eyes thing. And then she ruined the moment. Chat’d done this to her so many times; she couldn’t believe she was picking up the worst aspects of his humor.

A muffled chuckle redirected her attention back to Adrien. Hand over his mouth, he tried to contain himself, but it was a battle already lost. A petulant pout from her, and that was all it took for him to give himself over to the laughter. He stopped trying to hide his smile. His eyes scrunched closed. He slowly leaned towards the chair next to him, curling in on himself, using the table as a crutch, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

His joy rang through her. It warmed her toes and eased her stomach, stopped her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

He was catching his breath when the server brought their food and took their number. Marinette set the plates on her side with a small “thank you”.

“I’m going to kill my boyfriend,” she grumbled. “That was all his fault.”

Adrien, back in a sitting position, tilted his head in curiosity. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Oh! Ah..I do. Um. Gosh, I’m doing this all wrong.” Marinette stared resolutely at her food. “It’s, um. It’s new. I haven’t even told Alya yet. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone for a while. Except you.”

She peeked at him through her fringe. Adrien didn’t seem upset. For all the world, it looked like he was patiently hearing her out. But it wasn’t always easy to read through his Model Face. She twisted her fingers together.

“We.. He.. Well, he’s in love with two people. And, and I’m in love with two people. So we decided to try polyamory.” And that was the rest of it. Everything that had her knots all day. She hoped he would understand.

A flutter of movement, his hands moved into her peripheral vision. “Can I have your hands before you start digging your nails in?”

She swallowed, and carefully looked no further than her hands as they moved to meet his. He started rubbing slow circles on contact.

“Let me make sure that I have this right. Are you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

“You have a boyfriend? And he’s okay with you dating another person?”

She glanced at his expression and was caught by it. It was warm, and encouraging. “Yes.”

His hands squeezed hers. “Ah, in the interest of full disclosure...I have a partner, too.”

“O-oh?”

“I met her online and, well, you can imagine what would happen if the public heard that Adrien Agreste had an online girlfriend.”

Marinette cringed sympathetically. “That’d be a nightmare. You have a lot of crazy fangirls.” She paused for a moment and then ventured, “I can’t imagine Gabriel would approve, either.”

“Ha. No. Which means it has to stay secret for awhile.” Adrien shook his head, as if it would get rid of the sour thoughts. “But! We, well, exactly like you two. We’re both in love with two people and I couldn’t make myself choose. I wanted both of you.”

She stared at him, pink painted across her cheeks and lips parted slightly. “Me?”

“You.” His smile was back. “I’ve been working to get the courage to ask you out. Tried half a dozen times or so.

“What I’m trying to say, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, is that I’d love to go on a date with you.”

[whatsseobb]

Something Old, Something New (Crystal x Gigi Fanfic) - Chapter 10

AO3 Link

[A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for all of you who are reading my work. I appreciate the likes you are giving me here. It really encourages me to write more so I can update quicker. If you want to leave a comment or check out my other works, you can always message me or leave a comment on my AO3. I also post my stories there. Anyway, I’m really grateful to all of you. Enjoy this chapter!]

Synopsis: Crystal finds an enchanting jewelry box from the antique shop. Day by day, she discovers different journal entries hidden inside the box. Where is it coming from? What exactly is the music box? Most importantly, who is G?

Chapter Ten - Lone Bench

School was not enough to distract the teenager from all the thoughts that were bothering her especially last night’s dream. That morning, she was walking down the hallway with her friends when she randomly opened a classroom door and tossed her bag inside thinking it was her locker. The thump of her bag dropping on the floor got her back to her senses for a while, just enough for her to take it back and continue walking with her pals. As they were all having lunch together, Crystal was busy trying to finish her homework. She was about to sip on her juice when her friends took her pencil away from being punched into her juice box. Her friends were quick to notice that something might have been wrong with how Crystal was acting that day.

“Hey!” The curly-haired teenager whined as she tried to get her pencil back.

“Do you see what you are doing?” Heidi waved the pencil right in front of her face. It made the other girl blinked in confusion as she looked back at the juice box.

“Chile, you don’t look so good. We know something is bothering you. What happened?” Her friend Jaida pushed her food aside and plopped her arms on top of the table, leaning closer to Crystal.

“No-“

“And don’t you dare tell us nothing. Girl, it’s all over your face.”

“Is there something wrong with your grades? We can help you!” Rock cheerfully offered, a bright smile flashing on her face. The girl in question shook her head before continuing on opening her juice box.

She took the juice straw and positioned it towards juice box. As she was about to poke a hole using her straw, the name she was dreading to hear was mentioned by her friend. “Gigi?” Crystal exhaled a big sigh before shifting her focus on the juice box.

“What is wrong with Gigi? What happened? Did you fight?”

The curly-haired teenager dug her hand into her pocket before taking out the last photograph that Gigi sent her. It was the one holding her winning piece. After they looked at the photograph, Crystal showed her phone screen where they can see a similar photo of the first girl who won the art contest. It was dated back in 1959. Looks of bewilderment painted her friends’ faces as they tried to analyze the information Crystal showed them. It took a while before they were able to process the things she revealed.  

“I… I don’t understand.” Rock was the first to react after a full minute of silence.

“Is that the Gigi you are talking about on that picture? Maybe that’s her grandmother or something! Maybe they just look so alike.” Heidi shrugged, trying to offer a suggestion to comfort her friend.

“I wish it was her grandmother.” Crystal sadly uttered, looking at the photograph that was given to her by the young lady. Her eyes shifted to the portrait she was holding, the painting that she did of her when they once met in the meadow. The one that showcased Crystal’s beautiful smile, unlike the one painted on her face that moment.

“What do you mean?”

Crystal took a deep breath before explaining everything she found out over the past days. She told them how they were exchanging letters for the past few months and how they would stumble upon each other in their dreams. The dream part got a few confused faces and reactions from her friends which she thoroughly explained and confessed that she too was confused about how they were meeting in their sleep. She also mentioned about the painting she saw and bought from the thrift shop, the same one Gigi was holding on her photograph.

“Let’s get this slowly. The music box, hers?” Crystal nodded abruptly.

“And you are exchanging letters through that box even if she claims that she still has her box.”

“You even meet in your dreams? So you can control your dreams? Have you gone on a date yet?” Heidi nudged her elbow towards her friend teasingly, trying to lighten up the mood. She was serious on the question though, curious if the two even went on a date or if it was just some hallucinations that she had of the young lady.

“But what exactly are you two? Are you like dating?” The curly-haired girl shrugged her shoulder as a reply to Rock’s question. Her eyes never left the photograph, trying to remember in her mind how delicate and sweet Gigi’s face looked when she smiled at her before.

“Crystal, honest question. Do you like her?” Jaida straightened her posture, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she was anticipating the teenager’s response.

Her fingers fiddled on the photo, staring into Gigi’s excited figure. She made a mental picture of Gigi, standing in one of her cute dresses, holding onto the portrait she made of her, smiling with her sweet, cherry-tinted lips. Unknowingly, a faint smile slowly crept to her face. Even with its minute size, her friends took notice and saw the slight happiness that was present on the teenager’s face.

“Does she know?” Heidi asked softly, patting her friend’s arm smoothly. Crystal looked down, her shoulders dropping, as she shook her head and let out a sigh.

“She told me she likes me. Last night.”

“And you didn’t say anything back? Chile.” Jaida rubbed her face with her palm as she shook her head in disappointment towards what Crystal shared.

“I told her we can’t be together. Telling her about my feelings won’t change that fact.” Rock and Heidi nodded in unison at Crystal’s statement. Somehow, they agreed to what their friend realized. In their mind, the confession won’t even make sense anymore. It won’t change time or move Gigi closer to Crystal so they can be together.

However, Jaida chose to disagree. “Even so… don’t you think she deserves to know?”

“And for what? What will it do if Crys tells her how she feels?” Rock chimed in, leaning backward as she crossed her legs in defense.

“Well, it’s your choice. Just make sure you won’t have any regrets and what ifs.”

Crystal fidgeted on Gigi’s picture once again, biting her lower lip as she took a deep sigh. Her shoulders sunk down as she stared at the young lady’s photograph. “Do you think I would regret it?”

“At least she would know. You need to let her know. Then decide on what you should do about it… together. It shouldn’t be you who is the only one deciding. Give her a chance to know and be in control too. Or at least give her a choice.” Jaida offered a comforting smile to Crystal as she passed her a juice box.

 Two sleepless nights have passed and Crystal hadn’t heard anything from Gigi nor saw her in her slumber. She kept on replaying in her mind what Jaida advised the last time they talked about her ‘relationship’ with Gigi. For a few times, her last encounter with the young lady would also playback, which made her somehow regret how she said some words she uttered. She tossed to the right side and turned on the other but still couldn’t make herself fall asleep. She decided to jump back up and sat on the side of her bed, staring blankly at the portrait that the other girl painted of her. With a pen and a blank paper in hand, she scribbled and doodled on the empty page but no words came out of her.

As if fate was playing with her feelings, the music box suddenly rang. It froze her in her seat, a shiver running down on her spine as she realized what the music meant. She surely did miss the sound, the letters, and of course, Gigi. So, she immediately ran to her vanity and opened the letter that she was waiting for.

The teenager sat on her bed, stunned at what she just read. Mixed emotions devoured her thoughts as she internalized what Gigi wrote in the letter. Her confession reminded her of the words Gigi said the last time they met. It comforted her, knowing that the other girl was serious and was feeling the same way. However, the last paragraph was truly surprising. Arrange marriage? Who does that? Gigi getting married to someone else? She thought to herself. The letter slowly drifted from her fingers and on to the floor as she found herself staring at the drawing of them together with raging tears in her eyes.

 “You’re getting married?!” The curly-haired girl rushed towards the young lady, holding on to the letter she read a few moments ago.

The scarlet-haired girl sat on a lone bench by the lake, fingers laced together on top of her lap as she waited for the teenager to arrive. Her face was painted with surprise and confusion as she saw her dash towards where she was sitting.

“Crystal…”

“They’re playing on us, huh?” Crystal walked back and forth in front of Gigi as she tried to hold back the tears that were about to burst from her. “Who is this guy? Is he this Daniel guy you talked about before?” The scarlet-haired girl shook her head as she tried to reach her hands out to hold onto Crystal’s arms, trying to calm her down. The other swatted her hands away, angrily pacing back and forth.

“How did this happen? Why are you suddenly marrying him? Did you really agree on this?” Crystal’s fist were tensed into a ball, her jaw clenched as she walked in front of Gigi, this time her pace becoming quicker.

A soft whisper escaped Gigi’s lips as she looked down at her interlaced fingers on top of her lap. “Mother found out about the letters. She thought it would be best for me to stay away from you. Father’s business is also declining. He needs financial help. They are also doing it for the family’s business.”

“Business. Are you some sort of payment or item they can sell to have a better business? Oh please.” The teenager scoffed at the thought. This time, she turned to Gigi and muttered her words through clenched teeth. “And why is that? What is wrong with me?”

Gigi bit her lower lip as she continued to calmly answer Crystal’s questions. She reached out to hold Crystal’s arms and make her stop walking for a while. “She wants me to marry someone we know. Lawrence’ family has been a family friend for a long time. Mother and Father knows his family. They said it’s going to be good for business and for our families as well.”

“And now you’re going to go marry him. Go! Leave! Leave me just like that.”

“W-why are you being like this? Weren’t you the one who said we should end whatever this thing that is happening between us? Then why are you being like this, Crys?” Tears couldn’t help but exit Gigi’s eyes as she let her hands fall from holding Crystal. She turned her back away and tried to wipe her cheeks but to no avail. It continued on falling down.

The aggravated teenager’s face fell weak as she stared at the weeping girl in front of her. The echo of Gigi’s cries filled Crystal’s ears, breaking something fragile inside of her. She can’t help but blame herself for making her shed tears. She slowly reached out for her shoulder before swaddling her into her embrace.

“I… I’m sorry, Geege. I- I didn’t mean to shout at you like that.” She ran her fingers gently on her hair, trying to console her.

Gigi crashed onto Crystal’s shoulder and buried her face at the crook of the teenager’s neck as she sob sadly. Meanwhile, the other girl wrapped her arms around the young lady, pulling her tighter towards her hug.  “Gigi, I’m sorry.”

“W-why are you b-being like this, Crys? I thought you already wanted to end things between us.” The scarlet-haired girl looked up and saw Crystal’s comforting face looking back at her. Her pleading eyes seemed to make the teenager soft and weak.

“I… I seriously don’t know. For all I know, we can’t be together, like ever. Then now, I’ll hear that you have to go marry someone. Do you really wanna be with him?”

“I want you, Crys. I want to be with you. I want to do whatever it takes just to be with you.” Gigi’s hand found its way to cup the teenager’s cheek, moving closer towards her. She gently rubbed her thumb across the softness of her face, staring with her sad eyes on the girl in front of her.

“We are literally years apart.”

“Still.”

The teenager took a deep breath as she held the young lady closer to her. She leaned in to her ear and mumbled. “I also want to be with you, Geege. I’m sorry that I just don’t know how or what to do.”

Gigi pulled slightly away and gazed at the teenager with a perplexed look on her face. That was the first time she heard the exact words she wanted to hear from her. It somehow comforted her knowing that the other girl felt the same that she wanted to be with her too. However, there were some things she couldn’t understand about the girl. She looked back at Crystal, tilting her head to the side. “You are confusing me. One time, you’re mad at me, the next thing you’-“

The sentence was cut off by a pair of lips landing on the young lady’s mouth. Her soft almond eyes bulged widely as she froze on where she was sitting, mind blankly wandering to nowhere. Right then, she knew her question didn’t need words for an answer. Her answer was already being given to her. Crystal was delicately pressing her lips against the other girl, caressing her cheeks softly with her fingers. She was careful. To her, Gigi was an art piece that needed extra care. She was gentle with her as she give her the kiss that she have always wanted to do.

It took a minute before the teenager pulled away. However, her face was pulled back towards the young lady, their lips touching once more. This time, the kiss wasn’t stiff. They leaned towards one another for support as their lips exchanged passion and flame. They weren’t cautious anymore. Instead, they focused their attention on each other, pouring out all the unsaid feelings they had for one another. They both knew that they had time of the world there, right at that moment. They felt each other’s smile against their lips as they pulled away softly, leaning their foreheads against each other.

“T-that was a first.”

“And here’s a second-“ Crystal cupped both of Gigi’s cheeks on her palms as she placed a peck on her lips. “-and a third. Fourth. Fifth.” The teenager kept showering her lover with butterfly kisses on her lips, the couple giggling contentedly.

Gigi was the first to break the cheesiness as she pushed Crystal away at an arm’s length. She put her palm to cover the teenager’s lips as she softly uttered. “I am serious. I want to be with you.”

“Me too, Geege.” She mumbled against her skin, tracing her thumb against the young lady’s soft cheek as she looked deeply into her eyes.

The scarlet-haired girl dropped her hands to her lap and looked down, releasing a deep and heavy sigh.

“Something wrong, Geege?”

“But my mother. What am I going to say? What should we do?”

The words that came from Crystal’s lips made the young couple astonished. It sounded bizarre for a moment. They had no clue how they were going to pull that off or if they were ever going to be successful. Nonetheless, they believed in each other. A hint of hope appeared on Gigi’s almond orbs as she heard what the other came up with.

“Let’s run away.”

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Happy Floral Mail and thrifty gyroids

This past week has been super busy with preparation and launching - the good kind of hectic. Daisy Jane finally did it! After months of designing products and watching various videos on how to run a shop, Happy Floral Mail has launched!

Less than a day into the launch and the response has been awesome - almost fifty orders as of right now! She's a bit overwhelmed, as expected, but it's nothing she can't handle. I'm so happy for her!

To celebrate the launch of Daisy Jane's shop, Reece, Cyrus, Isabelle, and I planned a gyroid event to coincide with that. It's a thrifty, vintage themed one, inspired by Daisy Jane - a well kept surprise that was worth the wait! Daisy Jane's been working hard designing gyroid themed furniture for the past several months so we wanted to do something to show our appreciation.

It's still hard to believe that Daisy Jane's dream is coming true. For years she dreamed of opening a shop where she can sell her art, something she was discouraged from doing because it wasn't practical.

She had a rough time after finishing school, from bad art blocks to struggling with feelings of inadequacy because she's not where she's supposed to be - eventually it wore her down so much that she decided to leave home. Then she spent most of last year lost and wandering, later settling in a place that wasn't doing her much good other than isolating her. Things didn't really turn around for her until she joined us at the camp, and from there, her creativity and inspiration came back in a flood.

Since then, Daisy Jane has been working hard to improve her art, stepping out of her comfort zone by doing art challenges, designing gyroid themed furniture, learning how to use various digital art programs, and much more. Her art has evolved so much, it's amazing to see how much she has grown this past year!

And not only that, but I think Daisy Jane's become more confident. She's a lot more certain about what she wants and is willing to go out and try new things. Now that she's away from her family, I feel like Daisy Jane has flourished. Her family's nice but they're the kind of people who kinda make you feel bad for not meeting their high expectations. Her mom has always been the most supportive in terms of Daisy Jane's art but she doesn't take her aspirations seriously. As for Mae, she seems to have double standards for who she considers to be successful - in other words, she holds Daisy Jane to a much different standard compared to her friends.

As much as her family pushes her to be successful, they also stifled her as well. Daisy Jane's mom is the kind of person I'd describe as old fashioned and traditional, but willing to be educated and change her ways. My mom's similar like that, though I think she's a bit more open minded than Daisy Jane's, or at least I have a closer, more open relationship with her. Daisy Jane's mom congratulated her on the launch, which was sweet. I don't know if Mae knows yet, but when she does, I'm sure we'll hear about it.

In between processing orders, we went gyroid hunting, which helped Daisy Jane take the edge off the launch. Of course, it's not a gyroid event without guests so Almie, Dottie, and Gladdy arrived yesterday to throw a surprise pre-launch party for Daisy Jane. It's been forever since I've hung out with Gladdy and Dottie so it's nice to see them again.

Emmaline and Minnie also dropped by via video chat at the party and then made a huge order of stickers as soon as the shop launched. Most of the orders so far have been made by friends and it makes me so happy to see how supportive we all are of each other. A part of me kinda hoped that I'd be the first to make an order but Emmaline beat me.

I didn't realize this until now, but this is the first time Dottie's seen the camp. A long while back we talked about a possible Lilacs and the Cadillacs reunion for Concert in the Stars, which ended up never happening for various reasons. Maybe there's still hope but to avoid disappointment, I'd rather not bet on it. Gladdy visited once about two years ago while Cali and Lilac have yet to drop by.

Gladdy's been doing a lot better since he last visited, which was when he was going through a rough time. He's still hurt about what happened to Janie but he's slowly bouncing back. After leaving Dove City he stayed with his parents until he could get back on his feet. Now he's living in Aurora Bay and touring with The Thunders, an indie band that's gotten a lot of traction lately after one of their songs broke through the Top 40.

Dottie's doing well too, having been touring with her band Sunflowers for over two years as their lead singer. They have an album coming out later this year and they've been making their way up on the charts. Life's been busy for her but right now the band's taking some much needed time off so she figured now would be a good time to visit the camp. I knew she'd like it, especially the beach.

And of course, Almie's here because he wants to support his best friend. He was the one who encouraged Daisy Jane to leave home as well as taught her how to stand up for herself against people who mean well but end up doing more harm than good. Now that Pippa's been hanging out with Luna and Mariposa and her latest blood work has been looking good, he and Daisy Jane have been keeping in touch more often. Daisy Jane also promised to make him her assistant when her shop grows so we'll definitely be seeing more of him at the camp!

Unlike the last gyroid event, this one was a lot less stressful. Aside from preparing for Happy Floral Mail's launch, everything else just fell into place. The event itself was pretty low key - we didn't make a big show of it so it's been kinda quiet, which was partly intentional. After all, we didn't want it to take away from the shop launch and it's also not as extensively planned as other gyroid events so that's why it hasn't been really hyped up. Since it was a big thing for Daisy Jane, we wanted to keep it within the camp, something just for us to celebrate.

A gyroid hunt's a good way to introduce friends to the camp. Aside from it being a good way to catch up, it's also a good way to show them around. Dottie enjoyed collecting seashells while Gladdy took an interest in bugs and fish. What I love about the camp is that there's something for everyone - flowers, fruit, scenery, wildlife - it's always so interesting to see who gravitates towards what.

At the creek there were a bunch of turtles hanging out and they were super cute! They're seasonal creatures so I don't see them often, and when I do, I can't help but drop everything to watch them. I think it was a family of turtles judging from the size - one big one and a bunch of smaller ones. Since we had a picnic set up, we gave them some fruit to munch on.

Another highlight of the day was sailing with Gulliver and taking a quick trip to an island to get some gourmet treats. The weather was perfect for sailing so Gulliver was looking for an excuse to take out the boat. So we were gone for a couple hours and in that time Daisy Jane received a bunch of orders. As soon we got back, we headed to the cabin and helped Daisy Jane print sticker sheets and package orders.

Then it's back to the main campsite where Almie and I proposed a toast to Daisy Jane and Isabelle and Tom Nook surprised her with a cake. We also crafted a bunch of gyroid stuff and made good progress on that. Everyone really dug the thrift shop aesthetic and that inspired Daisy Jane to work on another gyroid theme for a future event. Almie's planning to craft more gyroid stuff for his sister while Dottie's looking forward to a room makeover.

Overall, today was a great day and tomorrow we'll be packing more orders and collecting gyroids. I still can't believe Happy Floral Mail is now a reality and it went off with a bang!

[soyforramen]

BHDC - Toni

Betty knocked on the door of a trendy townhouse in the middle of downtown.  It was a quaint, clapboard house surrounded by a lush garden filled with vegetables, herbs, and a few rare poisonous plants that caught her eye.  These were not, as Jughead put it, mere ‘acquaintances’.  She filled the information away for later questioning when the door opened and a petite woman opened the door.

“Hello, Jughead,” the woman said, a smile playing at her lips.  

So this was Toni, the vampire friend.  She was gorgeous, Betty realized, in a biker don’t-mess-with-me sort of way.  Toni’s clothes matched Jughead’s aloof, messy style.  Purposeful thrifting, in a way.  Betty suddenly felt as if she’d tried to hard in selecting her outfit this morning, the pastel cardigan and boat shoes far too cutesy to fit into this crowd.  She quickly shoved that thought aside.  There were more important things than her own insecurities (insecure about what?  Toni?  Betty didn’t even know her; but Jughead did …).  Shaking the thought out of her head, Betty introduced herself.

Toni gave her a polite nod, ignoring the outstretched hand, and lead them into the ornate home. The foyer was filled with artwork from around the world.  Mayan sculptures that were weathered by hundreds of years of sunlight and rain; large French impressionist paintings of the Riviera, the paint yellowing with time; antique Japanese block prints from feudal eras long gone by; Yoruba court masks decorated with metal birds and glittering jewels.  It was an intimidating show that was more at home in a Bond villain’s lair.  Here, in a cozy modern home, it was a braggadocios display of what the gift of immortality could give, if one did it right.

They made their way down a short hallway, the rest of the house was well lit despite the late hour, crowded with antique furniture and dark wallpaper.  Gaslit sconces lit their way and Betty couldn’t help but wonder if there was an old lover trapped in the attic.  She quickened her step, her hand reaching out to grasp Jughead’s jacket.  When she remembered how flippant he’d been with her earlier, Betty dropped her hand back to her side.

“Babe?” Toni called out when they reached the end of the hallway.  “Jughead’s here.”

“Joy,” came a flippant response.

Betty stepped into a fully stocked industrial kitchen.  (Could vampires even eat?  Common knowledge told her no, but if that was the case why have a kitchen that had fresh fruit on the counter, spices in a rack, and dry goods artfully placed around the room?  Surely it wouldn’t just be for looks?)  A redheaded stepped in from the open patio door. Jughead shot her a warning glance and Betty stifled her sudden irritation.

Accusations against the Vixen’s Den bartender, the one who’d rebuffed their questions and sent them those drinks that night, flooded Betty’s mind.  Why had she done that?  Was she a part of whatever conspiracy was going on?  Was she merely an agent of chaos, as Jughead had described her?  But asking would likely do no good here, especially when she held information they so desperately needed.  

“Cheryl,” Jughead said through gritted teeth.

“Hobo.”  Cheryl didn’t so much as look towards Betty.

Jughead’s hands clenched and Betty realized they were standing on thin ice; between Jughead’s quick temper and Cheryl’s lack of interest this would be a quick meeting if things didn’t settle down.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Betty said with her brightest smile.  She took a seat at kitchen island and dug out her notepad.  She’d dealt with this sort of person before; flattery and sickly sweet attention would do far better than demanding answers.  With her pen poised, Betty devoted her full attention to Cheryl.  “Jughead mentioned you were one of the best sources of information when it came to the underground.”

Preening under the false compliment, Cheryl gave a coy smile.  Everyone in the room knew it was a lie, but the admissions was enough to pull her out of her prickly shell.

“Is that so?”  Cheryl shook her hair out, a sheen to it that could only be achieved by a mix of magic and chemistry, and settled into the bar stool next to Betty.  “Toni’s told me so much about your little exploits.  Cheryl Blossom.”

Betty took the limp, downturned hand.  Did she really expect her to grovel?  This bitch…

“I’m afraid you have the upper hand here.  I know so little about you,” Betty replied.  Before Cheryl could realize she’d sidestepped introductions, Betty flipped to an open page in her notebook.  “Toni mentioned you were at The Woods a few weeks ago?”

Cheryl sighed theatrically and picked up an apple.  “Poor Josie.  Is she still missing?”

‘Josie?’ Betty mouthed at Jughead.

He rolled his eyes.  “Yes, Cheryl.  She’s still missing, along with-“

Cheryl waved her hand at him and tutted.  “Your loss is no bigger than mine, Forsythe, and you’d do well to remember that.”

Jughead’s lip curled as he pushed himself off the counter and Betty jumped in quickly before they lost the only lead they had.

“She went missing?”

“Yes.  It was their 50th Anniversary blowout.  Val and Melody -“

“Her bandmates,” Toni added.

“-saw her before the show, but after they left the dressing room she was never seen again.”

Betty tapped her pen against her lips.  “Did they notice anyone hanging about?  Strangers, someone who seemed out of place?”

Cheryl shook her head.  “Not that they mentioned.”

“Did you got to her dressing room?”

Cheryl’s eyes narrowed.  “If you’re implying -“

“Quit,” Jughead snapped.  “She’s trying to help.”

Toni raised her eyebrows in surprise.  A surprised reaction, but why?  He and Cheryl were at odds, and from what Betty had seen it wasn’t out of the ordinary.  And from Cheryl’s smirk, it seemed as if she’d been trying to bait him all along.  Unless…

“We were in the audience,” Toni said in the lengthening silence.  “A lot of the underground was there, it would have been weird if we didn’t make an appearance.  The lighting is never the best there, but I didn’t notice anything unusual.”

“What about the fae?” Betty asked as she flipped through the last few pages of notes.  “Were they -“

“They weren’t involved,” Cheryl said quickly.  “I would know if they were.”

Betty jotted the assertion down.  This was the third person - Veronica, Reggie, and now Cheryl - who’d insisted they weren’t involved.  Strange, considering the rumors that were swirling through the covens.  Rumors that the fae had shut their doors against all but the most select of persons, along with a few who’d been taken against their will.

“There were a few humans, though,” Tonia said after a moment.  “Sweets had to take Fangs home early for a nightcap. He didn’t think Pops would let in humans that night considering it was The Cats playing.”

“I was surprised myself,” Cheryl added.  

She slipped her hand through Toni’s and toyed with the ring on her finger, gaze directed at Jughead.  He shook his head and shifted against the counter, his hip bumping up against Betty’s arm.  Her words skipped across the page and she elbowed him playfully in response.  

“There are rules, after all, about letting humans into underground spaces like that.  Especially when The Pussycats have been playing together for over five hundred years.  They might get ideas.”

“I thought you said it was their 50th Anniversary?” Betty asked, hoping it was a crack in their story that might lead to something, anything that could give them some direction.

“Yes, their 50th Anniversary playing at The Woods.  Pop got an exclusive contract with them in the 70’s.  They’ve been playing together since at least Jericho, probably even earlier,” Cheryl said.

“What about the humans?”  Betty asked, sure they were chasing their tails on this one.  “Who was letting them in?”

“Perhaps you should ask Pop, or that weirdo DJ of his.  Dorkus, or whatever his name is.”

“We did,” Jughead said shortly.  “He’s the one who sent us to Fangs and Toni.  He also mentioned that you’d been lurking around backstage before the concert.”

Toni stepped away from Cheryl to stare at her.  Cheryl’s hand tightened and her smile turned chilly.

“Can I not deliver a gift to my best friend of three thousand years?”

“A gift?  Funny, I wouldn’t call the pig’s heart they found in the dressing room a gift.”

Cheryl scoffed.  “It is if you’re a demi-god who moonlights as a cat.”

“Babe,” Toni chided softly.  There was a painful question in her eyes and Betty found herself looking away from the private moment.

“Later,” Cheryl promised, her gaze soft.  It hardened as she turned back to their guests.  “As for you two, I’d be more concerned about the bald, chanting, idiots in white.  Anyone who wears all white this far past Labor Day is super suss if you ask me.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about these humans or…”

Betty trailed off.  Humans?  That was her answer?  For Cheryl to claim humans had infiltrated the underground, let alone suspect them of kidnapping a demi-god, let alone a witch and a were?  It was unthinkable.

“All I know is they were in desperate need of a spa treatment and a makeover,” Cheryl said with a curled lip.  “They even had the nerve to suggest I was one of the ignorant masses who needed their enlightenment.”

Jughead shot Betty an exasperated look and she bit down a smile.  He’d been against meeting with Cheryl from the state - his ranting about her for the thirty minute journey to the townhouse a clear signal that there was some unspoken history there - but Betty had persisted.  As unlikely a lead as humans were, it was more than they’d had this morning.

“What about -“

Betty was cut off as the patio windows blew in, glass and plant debris propelled at them by searing air.  As Betty was just beginning to process what happened, she found herself at the front door, tucked into Jughead’s arms.  Behind him Toni held Cheryl carefully in her arms.

“Stay here,” she told Cheryl, her fangs already out.  

Jughead set Betty down, pausing only to brush glass from her ponytail, and was gone before Betty could take a breath.

“What the hell?” Betty asked breathlessly.  She stepped towards the kitchen and winced at the sudden pain.  A large piece of glass had cut through her cardigan to her skin.  Blood stained the light pink fabric and Betty cursed at the sight.  

“Whatever it was, they’re going to wish they were in hell when I’m done with them,” Cheryl snapped.  “I just had that kitchen redone.”

She stalked towards the flames that were creeping into the hallway, fists curled in on themselves.  Betty followed, pulling out a string of spell beads as she went.

[miraculousfoxnews]

Kitsune’s reveal & Stoneheart’s rage

This whole mess started when I, the lovely Jasmine, was shopping for college.

There was this lovely thrift shop that I found, it had so many cute boxes and plates and goodies, how could I resist. 

I got a cute jacket, it had fox ears! I found some cups, they had pretty designs okay. I found a few cool boxes, they could be useful guys, don’t judge me. The item responsible was one of these boxes. It had dark red wood with a cool red pattern on it.

I swear that the box just appeared in front of me, it wasn’t there when I looked a minute ago.

Regardless, I bought my new stuff, for a great price, and headed home to pack it to take to college.

My room is super cute by the way, it’s painted like a field of flowers, my mom did it when I was really little and it’s super pretty.

It’s currently a bit of a mess, with books scattered all over and clothes in piles on the floor. I have two full floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and books stuffed all over my room, and it’s so difficult to pick the ones to take to college. 

I may also have a habit of collecting nicknacks, so there are a lot of items for me to pick from around my room.

So I started wrapped the cups and stuffed them in the backpack, and checked each box to make sure they were empty, until suddenly the red one lit up when it was opened. 

A brilliant light rose up and I stared in disbelief as a strange being appeared.

“Mm,” the creature shook its head as it stretched.

I slowly reached for a throwing knife I’d been debating on whether to take to college or not and prepared to throw it at the creature.

“Oh, Hello!” It beamed at me and I froze. 

“....... AHHHHH” I threw the knife at it. 

“Woah, nice throw kit,” the thing dodged neatly, “I’m Trixx,” it dodged the next knife, “the fox kwami of Spirits and Trickery.” it twirled around another knife, “It’s nice to meet you!” 

“Uh... “ Now, this was a very odd situation, but let it not be said that I can’t adapt… after a brief panic, “Nice to meet you.”

The creature, a kwami it said? Beamed at her, “I like your room,” it zipped around, studying everything, “Do you have any eggs?”

“Uh, I’ll give you eggs if you tell me what you are and where you came from.” 

The kwami laughed, “I already told you what I am, I’m a kwami, my name’s Trixx.” Trixx was suddenly right in front of me, “As for where I came from, I am the embodiment of Spirits and Trickery. I came from those, I am those.”

I stared, was this thing saying… was it saying it was basically a god?

“Uh…” 

It laughed, “It’s okay, don’t think too hard about it. Most humans don’t get it.” Trixx turned back to studying my room, it’s white tail tipped in black twisting as they studied the room.

“Okay, why are you here then? You’re like, a god right?”

“I’m a kwami!” Trixx spun around, “And I’m here because I’ve picked you as my next guardian mademoiselle… uh, what’s your name?”

Of course this was absolutely ridiculous, a mini god just appeared in my room declaring I’m its guardian, then asks me what my name was. Brilliant, just brilliant.

“I’m Jasmine. What does being a guardian mean?”

Trixx gave a little bow, “Hello then Jasmine. Fear not, I shall explain all!” It’s stomach growled, “After I eat. So, eggs?”

I got them eggs.

After Trixx ate their eggs, they settled down on a pillow and looked at me expectantly. 

“So, what’s a guardian?” I sat down across from them.

“An excellent question!” Trixx grinned and suddenly there was a figure in the room.

“AH,” I threw a knife at it, (I knew all these knives would come in handy one day), but the knife went right through the person. 

Trixx cackled, “It’s just an illusion kit, my last guardian in her hero form.”

“Hero form?” 

The figure had a flute held in her hand, her outfit streamlined, nothing loose except the tail and ears, faint claws glinted on her hands and white and black were the predominant colors. It wasn’t skin tight, but it was still sleek, stylish almost.

“This is what you’ll do!” Trixx flit up to hover in front of me, “You’ll use my power to accomplish the duties of my miraculous and ensure the safety of spirits.”

---------

Workers Report

So we had this big order, like huge order, and Geoffrey was in charge of the details. 

But this other guy, Owain, he took the call from the client, Rene, when they changed some details. But he forgot to tell Geoffrey. So the order wasn’t changed, but like, it was a big change, they wanted a different color entirely.

So when the order was filled and it was wrong Rene was furious, and Owain claimed he had no idea what happened, so Geoffrey got fired.

Then I don’t know man, suddenly he was covered in weird purple stuff and then he was a rock giant!

It just came out of nowhere and he just started destroying things, it was scary.

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

So I headed to college, Trixx coming along for the ride.

And this is where things really got crazy.

---

I finished smoothing out the bedding my friend Ian had given me (He’s a snobby rich kid but he’s a loyal friend… and tends to buy anything I look at for more than three seconds), pausing to peer around my half of the room. It looked good, lots of art, plenty of pillows, and my secret stashes of chocolate set up.

My roommate was straightening up her bed still, she’d added some fairy lights to the bed frame. 

I hummed, double checking my plugs, then turned to my roommate. I have no idea what her name is but I do know she’s unfairly pretty.

She bounced on her toes, looking very cute, “Uh… Ciao! NO wait… Bonjour…? I’m Hazel-August Primo! I’m from Italia! Milan specifically! It’s uh… very nice to yeet you! I MEAN meet you! I am sorry, I’m really awkward and don’t talk much.” 

My roommate ducked her head, her hair covering her face.

I smiled shyly, “Konichiwa, or uh, haha, we’re both doing it. Bonjour I suppose. I’m Jasmine Vermillion, I’m originally from Britain but I’ve lived in Nihon for the last ten years.”

I bowed politely, “It’s very nice to meet you Hazel-san, I hope we can get along.”

She perked up instantly, “Japan! Oh my stars! How many cherry blossom blooms did you go to? Did you participate in the street fashion? What was your favorite part? Did you try Soba?”

She suddenly flushed, rubbing her neck, “Oh uh, Apologies. I got excited. It’s very nice to meet you too! Let’s do our best this year!” She bowed her head.

I couldn’t help but laugh, “I love the festivals, though I’ve only been to a few. They’re so beautiful. And I didn’t do much street fashion, but I did help some of my friends with theirs. My favorite part is undoubtedly the shrines, they’re all so pretty and there’s so much to do. And yes, I’ve had soba many times.”

I shrugged, smiling, “I’m glad you’re excited, I’m happy to be roommates with you uh,” And I may have already forgotten her name, “I guess we should finish setting up. I can go grab some groceries.”

I tugged my hair, my stomach twisting into knots again. Trixx snickered in my hair as I peered at my roommate, whose name I can't remember.

My roommate giggled, "I can come with if you would like an extra set of arms. Or I can stay back and start putting away pots, pans, and plates. My Mother sent some nice stuff from a military installation in India! Mostly plates and silverware but also some spice jars for keeping spices." 

I perked up, "that's great, I have a bunch of cups and jars and stuff, I can go get some groceries and you can put your stuff up, then I'll put up my stuff and you can put up the groceries?”

"Okay! Oh! Before I forget! I got you a gift! I only knew my roommate was a girl so I hope you like it!" The shorter girl smiled and offered me a beautiful bracelet, probably from Milan. 

It had seven gems embedded in it. Ones I recognized from Trixx’s lessons, Ruby, carnelian, yellow quartz, emerald, sapphire, amethyst and Obsidian. It was on a silver chain that was not really thick but not thin either. "I know it's kinda pricey but I really wanted to make a good impression. I hope you like it!" My roommate smiled up at me shyly.

It was amazing, I definitely loved it, though I couldn’t be rude.

"Oh! You didn't need to," I tried to push it back to her roommate, "I really couldn't accept, it's too much!"

"Please accept it! I think it'd be good for formal occasions! My Mother will flip if she finds out I bought something expensive because 'bambina, it's conducive to your therapy! You don't need to get people nice stuff to like you. Just be genuine and up front!' It's not getting you to like me as much as it is trying to make a really good first impression. I should explain. I have borderline personality disorder and I get anxious and sometimes I say stuff I don't mean and that's called splitting. So like one day I could be really nice and kind but then the next day I can be like mean and rude. Is this making sense? I'm sorry! I can return it!" 

"Oh, I just wouldn't want you to feel the need, but if you insist..." I smiled slightly as I accepted the bracelet, picking it up carefully with both hands.

 "I understand, I have ADHD which isn't nearly the same but does come with struggles, we'll work out issues as they come." 

 I carefully put the bracelet on my wrist, "it is a beautiful gift, thank you. I actually have one for you as well." 

I dug through my trunk for a moment before pulling out a plastic bag, I pulled out the present I had carefully wrapped in green. I offered it to my new roommate with both hands. 

She accepted it with a gentle smile. "Grazi! I appreciate it very much." I watched her unwrap the gift nervously. Compared to what she got me my gift to her was much simpler. 

She finished unwrapping it and just looked at the folded fan for a moment. I had picked it carefully, from the darkness of the wood to the beautiful purple fabric with the delicate white butterflies on it, I went for some simple symbolism, while focusing on the elegance. 

"This is beautiful. Did you know that Purple was a very hard color to produce? It was made from one type of sea slug and was very rare and usually reserved only for royalty." My roommate sounded in awe of the gift, which was a relief. 

I smiled, "I'm glad you like it, and yes I did. It symbolizes celebration and luxury in Nihon."

I let out a breath, "I very much like the bracelet that you gifted me, thank you for thinking of me." 

I turned and grabbed some grocery bags, the reusable kind, glancing at the clock. "I'll go grab groceries, anything you need?"

"It's a bit of an odd and pricey request, but could you get some Camembert? I'll pay you back!" My roommate looked hesitant. 

I nodded, "sure, as long as you don't mind me getting some eggs" ‘Or a few dozen.’ 

“Sure, go ahead.”

I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, slipping my shoes on as I left. "Be back in an hour or so"

 I headed out to grab some groceries so we could have food, we had a microwave! And yelped when a rock nearly took my head off.

I snapped around to gape at the stone golem in front of me. It was huge.

“You need to hide kit” Trixx hissed from my hair. 

I quickly ducked and slunk along the line of cars to slip into an alcove hidden by some bushes.

“What is that?” 

“It’s the butterfly! I can sense it’s power but I don’t know what it’s doing this, Nooroo always picks kindhearted people to hold their miraculous.”

I frowned, this isn’t good, “Okay, but what do we do about it?”

“You need to transform to fight it.”

I blanked, that thing, a monster attacking us, the butterfly was supposed to be a partner to me, that’s what Trixx said, but it was attacking, and how was I- what was I- This couldn’t- I can’t fight this thing. The ground spun, my head hurt, what was I supposed to do? Throw some illusions at it? FoxFire probably wouldn’t do anything to stone, Requiem was useless for this, how could FoxHunt help ? Honoring? Useless, Shift couldn’t help! My ears were ringing, I’m not a fighter holder, I’m a strategist! I can’t do this, Trixx should pick someone else, someone who could use the skills she gave, but I’m not it. I can’t do this, I just can’t.

“No, no Trixx how am I supposed to fight-”

“You don’t have to fight,” Trixx hovered in front of me, “You don’t have to fight, just gathering information will be enough. Stay hidden and find the corrupted item. It’ll be something that the golem has.”

“I- I- I-” My chest was tight, an asthma attack? 

“Focus on me, Jasmine, look at me, look at me.”

I looked at the little kwami, “Okay, looking? Good, now focus on my breathing, see, in, out, in, out,” The kwami’s tail flicked and suddenly there was a shape, growing slowly, “In,” it started shrinking, “out,” slowly my breathing steadied. 

In, out, in, out, in, out, I breathed, finally able to take a breath. I could hear again, the crashing farther away, but crying nearby, I needed to move. 

“You alright?” I blinked, looking at the kwami, they peered back nervously. 

“I- sorry, I guess my asthma acted up.” I scrambled for my inhaler.

“That wasn’t an asthma attack, that was a panic attack kit.” Trixx drifted forward to nuzzle my cheek, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go out and fight, it’s scary.”

“I-” The cries were loud, sobbing from nearby, people were hurt. I normally don’t particularly care, I have low empathy, but… I still couldn’t stand by and do nothing. This was a lot of pain, I needed to help somehow, “I just need to transform again?”

“Yep, only this time focus on the threat, your suit will change to match the situation.”

I blinked, “The suits change?”

Trixx giggled, “You didn’t think that dressy, dramatic, bright outfit was the one you’d fight or sneak in did you?”

“Can it change mid-battle?”

Trixx nodded, “Yeah, you can use your flute to change it, but it leaves you vulnerable while you change forms, and it will take a point from your miraculous, so it’s best to know what your intent is before transforming.”

I took a breath, the building shook, I could do this, focus on sneaking. 

“Trixx, Time to Hunt.”

The magic of the transformation swept over me, different from the previous times. Instead of rising to coat me in softness and loose cloth, it slid close to the skin, muted and steady. The two tails remained, but otherwise the style differed. 

I studied myself for a moment, touching the new mask, styled like a kitsune mask from a festival. The suit was more dark grey then white and black, but it was nice, the belt had multiple pockets, and the flute was tucked into a loop on the back.

I clutched the flute, and slipped out of the alcove. 

Slinking along the path I had a hard time breathing. The destruction was horrible. Buildings crushed, torn apart, people broken and bleeding. This was very real, and very dangerous.

I slid around and leapt up to a roof, studying the area. I was to gather information, couldn’t do much else right now.

I carefully followed the golem down the road as it yelled in rage. 

Then there was a child crying as it stumbled away from the golem. A young boy with blonde hair. The golem raised its fist.

The world blurred as I snatched the boy up and threw us into an alley. I spun to see the golem focusing on us. Damn.

“YOU, FOX”

A symbol appeared on its face, a butterfly huh? Well, looks like I need to trick the fool into breaking the item Trixx mentioned, or I’m doomed.

“GIVE ME YOUR EARRINGS!”

I blinked, earrings? Whatever.

“Fox Sense.” I murmured, twirling my flute. Breathing in as I focused on the enhanced senses. The dust was annoying, but I could see every detail of the golem, hear the cries from all around the area, and smell the dirt and fear and blood around me. 

More importantly, I noticed nothing on him that could be the item, but I also noticed his fist. One was open to attack me, the other, it was in a fist. As, I realized, it had been the whole time.

If the item wasn’t on the golem or visible in any way, then the golem must be holding it.

I crouched, gripping my flute tighter. The fox is not meant for battle, but that doesn’t mean I can’t win anyways. 

I raised the flute to my lips, blowing a soft tune, “Mirage” 

The area shimmered with light for a moment, and then it was a construction zone, with bars falling onto the golem, a rumble as a crane tilted.

“RAAA” The golem staggered, grabbing for the bars falling with both hands, a small piece of paper falling from his hand.

The bars shattered right before they could touch the golems hand. Shards falling as the crane fell towards it. The golem stumbled back, raising its hands to cover its head. 

I moved. I reached the paper, a strange black energy surrounding it. It shattered as soon as I stomped on it.

A little black butterfly pulled free, fluttering off.

Black energy bubbled around the golem, fading to reveal a man.

I blinked, ‘that...’

“Huh” My ponytail swung as I shook my head, “Weird.”

“Who are you?” A whisper caught my attention, the boy was staring.

“I’m....” Names were important, “Kitsune Neige.”

I swiped my flute to disperse the illusion and leapt up, pausing on the roof to look at the butterfly hurrying away. It still had black energy around it.

-----------

Time to Rest-

[breeeliss]

Chlonette and mermaids

this isn’t really very plotty but idk modern mermaid au i guess :P

words: 1961

Marinette looked into her old jewelry box and realized she was quickly running out of stock. 

About the only things left inside that she was willing to part with were a stack of silver rings (fake silver probably, but that was Marinette’s secret) and a strange bronze bee broach that her aunt had gotten her for her birthday three years ago that Marinette never bothered to wear. She dug around her closet for her old hand mirror with the cracked handle and decided that all this was enough. It was probably time to start scouring thrift stores and street fairs, but she’d worry about that later. 

She stuffed everything into her bag, grabbed a croissant from the kitchen counter, and started to make her way towards the pier. 

It was early enough in the morning that not many people were by the beach with the exception of the occasional fisherman heading to the southern part of the pier with fishing rods and baskets full of bait. Marinette headed in the opposite direction until she came upon a part of the rickety, wooden banister that was damaged, leaving a hole just large enough for Marinette to slip past. She looked around her to make sure no one was watching before she squeezed through the gap and carefully started to shimmy down one of the posts until she was dropping down onto a small bank of rocks underneath the walkway. 

Marinette squinted against the sunrise coming just over the horizon as she whistled a quick tune with four long notes and waited. 

It only took a few seconds for a glimmering golden fin to breach the surface of the water just a few meters away. Marinette watched the ripples in the water begin to get closer to her until they finally started to swirl around her feet. A blonde head of hair carefully poked up from underneath the water. “Is the coast clear?”

“No one’s around, don’t worry,” Marinette assured. “You can come up.”

“Oh, wonderful.” 

Chloe leaned her hands against the bank of rocks and carefully lifted herself up to sit right next to Marinette, stretching her long golden tail out in front of her so that her scales could dry in the sun. She collected all of her hair in her hands and wrung out all the water, being careful not to disturb the chains of pearls she had braided throughout her hair. “You don’t usually come on Tuesdays. Don’t you open up the bakery in the mornings?” 

“It’s a holiday today, so school’s out and the bakery is closed,” Marinette explained. “Thought I’d come visit.” 

“You’re lucky,” Chloe smirked. “I was just out this morning looking for jellyfish.”

Marinette dug through her bag. “Jellyfish?”

“Of course, darling. Do you think my tail stays this smooth and shiny through will power? Proper tail maintenance is important. It’s downright tragic how other mermaids tend to neglect that.” 

“Don’t jellyfish sting?”

“Oh, they do! But the tingle it leaves afterwards is worth it. That means it’s working.” 

Marinette chuckled and made sure to file away that little mermaid factoid away for later. She pulled out the stack of silver rings, held it up to the light, and handed it to Chloe. “It’s been a while since I brought you things to add to your collection so I’d thought I’d bring some things by.”

Chloe gasped and snatched it out of Marinette’s hands, rolling it around in her palms and marveling at the way the metal shone in the light. “Oh, they’re so bright!!!”

“Yeah, I thought you might like them. I’ve only worn them once and they’re too big for me so I don’t use them very often.”

Chloe slipped the rings on all of her fingers and found that they were also too big to fit snugly. “That’s okay. I can probably figure out a way to turn it into a hair clip or something. It’s really hard to swim sometimes with your hair getting in your face.”

“I know it’s not diamonds or rubies or anything like that, but you’re good at finding good uses for random things.” 

“Ah, finding beauty in even the most lowly of places,” Chloe sighed, fluttering her lashes with a smile. “It’s the saint in me.” 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Alright. Your turn.” 

Chloe tapped her finger against her lips before searching the dozens of baubles and doodads she had hooked onto the gold chains hanging around her hips like a belt. It took her a couple of minutes to find what she was looking for, but eventually she cheered and handed Marinette a compass that was caked in dried sand and looked to be a couple hundred years old. 

Marinette opened it and found that the needle was stuck and wouldn’t move no matter how much she turned her body. “Huh. Is it broken?”

“Oh I have absolutely no idea what it is,” Chloe said distractedly as she tried to pry apart the rings and twist them into a different shape. “I’ve had it for ages, but it doesn’t do anything and it’s rather big and ugly.”

Marinette scowled. “So you gave it to me because it’s ugly? Thanks a lot, you brat.”

“What? You’re a human. That nonsense was invented by humans. It’s perfect for you. Anyway, what’s it supposed to do?”

“It tells you which direction you’re traveling in. The needle in the middle is supposed to always point north but I think the mechanism is off. Probably belonged to a sailor or something.” 

“That’s a stupid old thing to have. Why not just look up at the stars?”

Marinette shrugged. “I’m not much of a sailor so I don’t know whether people still look at the stars. I think compasses are just easier.”

“So how do you get around?”

“GPS mostly. A lot of cellphones have them.”

“What’s a GPS?”

“Oh, it’s uh….it’s like a thing that tells you where you are at all times. You just check your cellphone and it’ll tell you exactly where you are. Cellphones are like little boxes we can use to call people and find out information and all sorts of cool things.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and started to twirl the ends of her hair between her fingers. “Sounds boring.” 

Marinette smiled. “Boring, huh? Well, then I guess if it’s so boring I’ll just take the rest of this stuff home with me. You probably won’t be very interested in it anyway – ”

“Hold on a second!! Let me see what you have, don’t just go!”

Marinette always thought that thing in The Little Mermaid about mermaids collecting human things was just something that people made up for the sake of storybooks. But it turns out that it was founded on a lot more truth than Marinette realized. Chloe didn’t really care much for the functionality of the things that interested her. Her favorite things were trinkets that were broken or useless but looked extremely pretty. All things shiny, precious, and golden immediately enchanted her, and she always found a way to turn it into a charm for her belts, a new ring, a new bracelet, a new hair accessory, and countless other strange purposes that Marinette was sure only ever made sense to a mermaid. Marinette learned not to question it. Besides, she as able to convince Chloe into making this like a gift exchange once a week so that Marinette could get something interesting from the ocean as well. Besides, it wasn’t often that people could say they were friends with a mermaid. 

She managed to exchange her hand mirror for a vial of crushed sea urchins that doubled as nail polish and exchange her bee broach for a pair of earrings that were actually just broken shell pieces attached to what looked like an old, thin fishhook. Strange gifts, but Marinette didn’t want to be rude by refusing them. Besides, she was more interested in the stories that went along with Chloe’s gifts rather than the gifts themselves. Chloe’s picky, snooty, and sarcastic behavior became tolerable whenever she told one of her tall tales. It wasn’t everyday that you got to listen to adventures about swimming to the United States, diving down into the ocean until it was too dark to see, dodging storms, and scouring ship wrecks. Marinette was tempted to take the time to find Chloe a really amazing and expensive gift only so that she’ll get some fantastical story in return. 

“Oh!” Chloe exclaimed after she put away her presents, her tail splashing around the surface and soaking Marinette’s pants with seawater. “I totally forgot to tell you! I found the most amazing thing the other day and I think you’d love it!”

“What?”

“I found this old rowboat near my home that must have sunk a few years ago,” Chloe started explaining. “But there was a trunk in the back that had a bunch of clothes in them. Sort of like what you’re wearing, but there were so many more things. Like those strange things you put on your feet to walk around. These wire-things that have two circles of glass on them that I think you may need to look through. And head things! Stuff that go on your head. Hats? Yeah, I think they’re called hats.” 

Marinette giggled. “Did you take anything?”

“No, I have to go back,” Chloe said. “But I figured I’d come and ask you if you wanted some of it first. You said you sew clothing and things right? I mean the clothes are a little dirty but they should still be okay with a few washes. Remind me. I’ll bring the trunk over next time.” 

“Oh perfect! I won’t have to buy fabric later.” 

“You….buy fabric?”

“Don’t start.”

Chloe lifted her hands. “Okay, okay, fine. Humans are confusing and ridiculous. Get used to it. I’ve got it.” 

“I was saying,” Marinette continued. “That if you managed to bring those old clothes back I can bring you some bakery sweets.” 

Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Sweets?”

“Mmhm. With sugar and honey and milk and all sorts of things you don’t have in the ocean. Trust me, I have a couple more things you might like.” 

“Ohhhh, is it going to make me fat?” Chloe asked, pressing her hands to her stomach. “I promised myself I would go on a bit of a diet this month.” 

“A small amount won’t do anything, so I’ll only bring a couple,” Marinette promised. “Besides, you have a pretty bad sweet tooth ever since I brought you those cookies the first time and I feel like I just have to keep enabling you since it’s too far gone to stop.”

Chloe smirked. “Revisiting an old shipwreck and plundering for treasure in exchange for sweets is almost universally worth it.”

Marinette laughed. “Nice to know we’re on the same page. I’m off again tomorrow, so maybe I’ll bring them then.” 

“You better,” Chloe warned. “I’m going to break a couple of nails getting this trunk for you, so the least you can do is pay in human food.” 

“Your sacrifices will be most appreciated.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“in front of you? I’m offended you would think so.” 

“I’ll have you know it’s a lot of work to make my nails this strong.”

“What, is there special mermaid nail maintenance that I should know about?”

“You know? It’s funny you should say that – “

“Oh no no no, stop, I was kidding, I don’t want to hear it!”

“ – because as a matter of fact there is! Oh, it’s good you don’t have any plans today because this might take a while. You see, there’s this special kind of moss you have to get, right….” 

[the--blackdahlia]

Dirt (Dean x Reader)

Title: Dirt

Summary: A dirt field by Bobby’s house changes Dean’s life

Warnings: None

Bobby had a large field just to the west of his house that he never did much with. At one point in time, he and Karen were going to be farmers, but it never came to be. He tried to plant things there for one season, using free labor in the form of the Winchester boys when John would drop them off there, but it didn’t pan out so well. So the field stayed empty, but Bobby could never bring himself to sell it off. So Dean took full advantage of it.

 Before he even had his driver’s license, he waited for a large downpour. Then he took the keys to one of Bobby’s truck, loaded Sam up in the passenger seat, and took off in mudding in the field. Sam’s laughter was enough to make Dean keep going, even when he spun the tires because he got stuck. He knew that he would have to wash the truck and would probably have to do more chores for this, but it was all worth it.

 When Dean was 17, he used a fake ID that John had gave him to go buy a keg at the liquor store. He called some contacts that he knew from living with Bobby for quite a while and soon, the field was filled with pickups and souped up muscle cars, the headlights bright to light up the party, classic rock blaring from a boom box one of the kids had brought. Sam snuck out of the house to the party and got drunk at 13.

 “Sammy?” Dean asked, seeing his brother sitting on the tailgate of one of the guy’s trucks, a solo cup in his hand.

 “Hey De!” Sam said, swaying as he waved. Dean glared his brother down and grabbed him by his arm, pulling him off the tailgate. “Hey!”

 “You’re thirteen Sam.” Dean growled at him. Sam tried to dig his heels in the dusty ground.

 “I didn’t ‘rink that much.” Sam giggled. He pulled away from Dean suddenly to puke. Dean rolled his eyes at his lightweight brother. But that one moment changed Dean’s life. A girl, right about Dean’s age, came running up to them.

 “Oh my god, is he okay?” She asked.

 “Huh? Oh yeah he’s fine.” Dean said. “Stupid kid thought it would be a good idea to sneak out here and get drunk.” Dean looked up at the girl then and almost forgot how to breathe. Yeah, he had already been with quite a few girls at his age, due to moving around a lot. But he hadn’t ever seen a girl that took his breath away like she did. He knew it sounded like something from a chick flick, but he was a little glad that John had settled him and Sam at Bobby’s for a while, even if it was only because CPS was sniffing around.

 “I’m (Y/n).” She said with a smile as she handed Sam a water bottle from her car. She had been on her way out when she saw Sam puking his guts out, and she was a bit of a mother hen.

 “Dean.” Dean finally managed to say. “Were you leaving?”

 “Uh, yeah.” She said with a shrug. “My friend ditched me for some guy and they turned off the classic rock for pop. So I’m just gonna head out.”

 “Hey wait.” Dean said. “Let me run kiddo here back home and I’ll come back. I’ve got a kick ass cassette tape collection and trust me, there’s no pop.” (Y/n) smiled and laughed. Dean dragged Sam back to Bobby’s place. He had planned to lay into the kid, but the hangover in the morning would probably be punishment enough. Instead, he headed back out to that field and spent the night talking with (Y/n), even after everyone else had left and it was just the two of them on the hood of her car.

 “I hope my dad doesn’t come back for me.” Dean said, laying back against the windshield and looking up at the sky. (Y/n) looked over at him.

 “What makes you say that? I’m sure he misses you and will come back for you.” Dean shook his head.

 “After being here for six months, my brother and I not having to move school after a couple weeks, and just getting a sense of normal, I don’t want to go back to life on the road.” Dean explained. “And honestly, meeting you tonight kinda has drove that idea home.” (Y/n) smiled. She was sure that he was trying to get into her pants and the next day he wouldn’t even know her name, but he was cute.

 But man, was she wrong.

 ****

 Dean didn’t go to college. Was he was done with high school, he was done with education. That was until Bobby got him into a technical school to make him a licensed mechanic. John hadn’t taken the boys back with him. Sam had locked himself in his room so that John couldn’t take him. He had gotten friends, growing really close to one of them, and he wasn’t ready to leave. Dean was just a couple weeks away from graduating and Bobby had told John to shove it when he said that the hunt was more important. John came by from time to time, like for Dean’s graduation from High school and technical school, but he wasn’t there all the time.

 (Y/n) had been mistaken when she thought that Dean had just wanted in her pants the one time. He took her out on several dates before he even tried it, and he even called her the next morning. They continued dating even after high school. (Y/n) went off to a community college to get her nursing license. One day, while she was at school, Dean set Bobby down at his kitchen table.

 “What is it?” Bobby asked. Dean pushed a wad of cash to him.

 “Down payment.” Dean said. Bobby raised an eyebrow. “I want to marry (Y/n). And I want to build her a house. So, I want to buy the field from you.”

 “Dean…”

 “I know what you’re going to say and I know that it’s been in your family for years, but it’s the place where I met her and I think it would be a perfect place to start our lives.” Bobby just smiled at Dean.

 “Dean, what I was going to say was you better put that money towards supplies.” Bobby said. “That field is more yours than it is mine. To me, it’s just a big patch of dirt. To you, it’s always been much more. So it’s yours, no down payment.”

 “Wait…you’re serious?” Dean asked. Bobby nodded. A smile spread on Dean’s face.

 “Let me make some phone calls and get you some help.” Bobby said. “I think you’re going to need it.”

 ****

 Some old hunting friends of Bobby and John’s stopped by to help Dean out. He was still working at an auto repair shop while (y/n) went to school. She would come home from a long day and make the guys food. Caleb, Pastor Jim, Joshua, Bobby, Sam, and Dean would come into Bobby’s place and eat the food that (Y/n) had prepared. Sam was getting ready to head off to college soon, but he wanted to help Dean get his own place. His big brother deserved that much.

 “Boys, I have a question for you guys.” (Y/n) said as she passed out beers to everyone, even Sam.

 “What is it babe?” Dean asked, gladly accepting the bottle from her. She smiled some.

 “Can you guys get this house down in the next seven months?” She asked. The kitchen got silent. Dean looked up at (Y/n). “Because I don’t think Bobby wants to get rid of this baby only to have a new one running around.” She played with Sam’s long hair. A smile spread on Sam’s face as he looked over at Dean.

 “I’m…you’re…” Dean stood up and walked over to (Y/n). “Are you pregnant?” She nodded. He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply.

 “I’m going to be an uncle!” Sam said loudly. The hunters all clapped and cheered, making (Y/n) smile. She knew about Dean’s past life as a hunter, or the fact that Bobby was still doing it. It was one of the first things he told her about when they started getting serious. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. And she knew he was putting symbols and charms in the bones of the house to make it safe. But now she had several other hunters who were going to be protective now.

 “Should we call your dad?” (Y/n) asked. She had met John Winchester about six times in her time with Dean. Dean’s smile fell some.

 “If he pulls himself out of whatever bottle he’s got himself in and makes his way back here, then sure, we’ll tell him. But I’m not going out of my way to.” Dean said. He had had enough time away from being John’s soldier and he could see why Sam always fought so hard. (Y/n) smiled and kissed him again.

 “Well, let’s get to eating. I don’t want this food to get cold.” (Y/n) said, sitting down by Dean and drinking her lemonade while Dean dug into his food.

 ****

 The week before Sam went off to college, he went with (Y/n) on a tour of thrift stores in the area to find furniture. Caleb had already told Dean and (Y/n) that he had things for them, so baby furniture and a new bed for them were off the list. Dean and the others were working hard to finish the house. The siding was almost up and Joshua was the brave one to put the roof on. Soon, that field of dirt was starting to look like a home. Pastor Jim blessed the empty house, allowing it to bring in peace and happiness.

 What had originally been a yearlong process was done in five months. They had just settled into their new place when (Y/n) went into labor and brought a handsome little boy into the world.

 “What about Jensen?” (Y/n) asked, holding her son on her chest. He didn’t have a name and they had been a little busy getting everything ready that they hadn’t really thought of names yet. Dean looked up from the baby name book he was looking through. They wanted to give him a name before they had to leave the hospital.

 “Jensen? After that actor you have a crush on? I don’t think so.” Dean said, rolling his eyes some. “What about naming him after Bobby?”

 “He just doesn’t look like a Robert to me.” (Y/n) said with a shrug. She paused for a second. “What about just naming him Dean Jr.?” Dean looked up at her. “We could call him DJ.” Dean gently ran his fingers on his son’s arm.

 “Hi there DJ.” Dean said with a smile. (Y/n) laughed.

 “Looks like we have a winner.”

 ****

 DJ was toddling around outside in his newest AC/DC shirt. (Y/n) was planting some flowers while Dean was at work. DJ had just started walking about a week ago, but he was already doing really well. He had a plastic lawn mower that he liked to push around. The dirt from the field was covered with a nice lawn thanks to Joshua. (Y/n) watched DJ push his lawnmower around when a big, black truck pulled in at Bobby’s. (Y/n) looked over and watched as John Winchester climbed out of the truck and made his way to Bobby’s place, pausing just for a second to gaze at the new house next door.

 The Impala pulled into their driveway as John came out of the house. Dean got out of his car and saw his dad standing in Bobby’s driveway. He had been there for Sam’s graduation, but hadn’t stuck around long after that. So he didn’t know about Dean and (y/n) being engaged with a son, or their house, or anything like that. So as he looked over at the neighbor’s house, he was shocked to see Dean standing there, holding a tiny version of him with (Y/n) at his side.

 “Well, he pulled himself out of his bottle.” (Y/n) said, remembering what Dean had said when she told him she was pregnant with DJ. He nodded and took her hand and walked with her and DJ over to John.

 “Sir.” Dean said.

 “Hey Dean. (Y/n).” He smiled. “Who’s this? And where’s Sammy?”

 “Sam’s in Palo Alto, California.” Dean explained. “He got into Stanford studying law. And this is DJ.”

 “Our son.” (Y/n) added. John’s eyes widened and he looked between the two of them.

 “You had a song?” John asked. He sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around…”

 “Dad, not now.” Dean said softly. “I’ve made a life for myself. I got a job, a hot fiancée, a house, and a son. It would’ve happened whether or not you had been around, but I have a feeling it happened sooner because of the path we chose.” John nodded, knowing he deserved it. After a couple near death hunts, it made him realize that Dean and Sam deserved the life they had with Bobby. A room to call their own, friends, school. Being normal.

 “Can I see him?” John asked, looking at DJ. Dean looked between the two before handing DJ over to John. DJ pulled on John’s beard a little and smiled when John made noises. (Y/n) watched them for a little bit before turning to look at Dean. Dean sighed some.

 “Dad, if you ever need a place to stay while you’re passing through, we have an extra room.” Dean said. “Just call to make sure Sam’s not home. As much as Bobby loves us, I think that us being in our own place is nice.” John nodded.

 “Thanks son.” John said. “It means a lot.” Dean nodded.

 “Well, guess I better show you the house.” He sighed. “Just ignore how Sam decorated the room you’ll be in. I think he was dropped on his head or something.” John laughed and carried DJ as he followed Dean. (Y/n) stood over by Bobby’s house, the older hunter coming to stand by her.

 “So John found his way back.” Bobby said. (Y/n) nodded.

 “I think it’ll do him some good.” She said. “But if he hurts Sam, Dean, or DJ, I will kill him.” She looked over at Bobby. He wouldn’t put it past her either. She was protective of her family and she wasn’t about to let anything destroy that.

Tag List: @petrovadixon @smoothdogsgirl @tornjeansandabrokenheart @jewelsbaby98 @theas-bedtime-stories @aiaranradnay

[tinypeckers]

Are you a campfire? Because you’re hot & I want s’more.

Pairing(s): Aleks/James (NovaHD) and… well, you’ll just have to find out.

Words: 2,132

AO3

Summary: Summer rolls around once more and really, there’s a tradition to uphold and the tents & camp fire are calling their name. Except Dan and Jordan are going to have their hands full keeping James & Aleks apart for a different reason. (Part of the ‘Is that a flicker in your eyes?’ universe.)

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine TenEleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

A/N: Kind of short - but I have a break from University now so expect some s’more. ;)

“I give you twenty dollars and you come back with this?” Jordan held the Chinese finger trap in his hand. He hadn’t seen one in years, not since he and Dan had tried it out in that joke shop all those years ago. They were stupid, cheaply made and not worth his cash. “I want the rest of my money back.” Jordan held his palm out expectantly. Seamus raised his eyebrow at him,

“Your money? It’s my allowance.” Seamus had earned that money, one bite at a time.

“How much did you spend on this?” Jordan gave it back, dropping his palm when Seamus made no move to offer the money back. If it was more than fifty cents he was going to lose his mind.

“What do you care? You spend your money on what you want and I’ll spend it on what I want,” Seamus said.

“Seamus!” Jordan screeched.

 Dan and the other boys had edged away from the pair. Eddie was gnawing holes into his lower lip, wringing his hands together as he watched his friend get chewed out.

“You know this is your fault, right?” James said because well, he couldn’t help himself.

“Shut up! You should have bought it for me,” Eddie said.

“Yeah? Would you have blushed when I held your ha-“ Eddie clamped his hand over his brother’s mouth. James had never seen such murder behind his brother’s eyes.

“Don’t speak,” Eddie whispered. Dan ignored them both, far too focused on Jordan and Seamus’ bickering. They’d have to go soon, there was probably only half an hour on the car park. Aleks wanted to ask what the big deal was. Eddie and Seamus had held hands a hundred times before. It was just something they did, something they had always done – since when did Eddie get embarrassed over it?

 He couldn’t ask, though, because his father was done lecturing Seamus about taking care of his money and not spending it on stupid shit. It had ended when Seamus had pointed out the fact that Jordan had in fact come out of the thrift store with his own useless, overpriced find. Neither of Jordan’s sons would ever get the hype over the stupid figurines Jordan endlessly collected. Aleks smirked a little as he remembered their tiny town lady. He wondered if his father would like to add her to his collection. That’s if Seamus hadn’t thrown it out in fear yet. He’d have to remember to ask, right after he cornered James about the whole Eddie thing.

“Right,” Jordan clapped his hands together, “home time?”

“Yes, let’s all get back so that we can have some dinner and maybe play a game or something, as a family?” Dan had wanted to crack out that monopoly board he’d managed to sneak with them.

 Unfortunately, none of the frowning faces gave Dan much hope for that happening. Still, he was sure he’d managed to snag them all at least once this week.

“Fine, let’s just go to the clubhouse again tonight.” Dan loved the clubhouse, he did, but there was only so much cheesy entertainment and over-priced, watered down drinks one could stomach.

“We’re all right, Aleks and I are just gonna stay back again tonight,” James said, opening the car door for his boyfriend.

“Yeah, my hand still hurts.” Aleks held it up to remind everyone of his injury, “I’d be no good on those arcade machines.”

“That’s all right, you can hang with me and your dad,” Dan beamed. James rolled his eyes at him. Well, so much for a family holiday. “Eddie, Seamus?” The two youngest boys shook their heads vigorously. Dan remembered the days when they couldn’t get enough of him. When he was the coolest guy around and there wasn’t a minute he found peace. He’d hated it then but now, as he watched his youngest son gleefully show his friend a millimetre of hair upon his chin, Dan missed it.

 Even back at the camp, once he’d cooked them a meal and forced them to sit together, everyone was doing their own thing. Jordan rang his wife, understandable, but the boys skilfully ignored each other. James fiddled with the Chinese finger trap. Aleks flicked through his phone, occasionally lifting it to take the perfect selfie. Seamus fell in love with the burger he’d been given, eyes bulging and mouth watering around it. Eddie… Eddie kept chancing looks at Seamus. Come to think of it, Dan had seen that look before. Eyes wide, watching everything… Mouth twitching every time Seamus did anything remotely well, Seamus. Dan felt the word on the tip of his tongue. It tickled him and he wanted to spit it out. He couldn’t though, couldn’t get it out fast enough before his son was leaping up from his stool.

 “C’mon Seamus, you’re taking foreveeeeeeeeeeeeer,” Eddie fell to his knees at his friend’s feet. He pouted up at Seamus, resting his chin upon the other boy’s knee. Seamus looked down at him from behind his burger. It was barely there, a bite from being finished but Seamus wasn’t ready to give it up. Not just yet, just five more minutes with what could have easily been called the love of his life.

“Yeah, Moose – just eat it already. I’m wasting away just watching you,” Aleks said. He hadn’t been watching, not really, but he’d say anything to put a stop to an ‘Eddie tantrum’.

“Just plop it into your mouth and eat it, it’s not that hard,” James chimed in. He had been watching. He’d seen the way Eddie had been jostling his leg just watching, waiting and then becoming aggressively impatient.

 Seamus raised his eyebrow at them all. It was his burger, it was his love, it was his. He was going to savour each and every bite. Even when it went cold, it would still taste good. He knew it would.

“Please, I just want to go and make the bracelets already.” Eddie’s chin dug into Seamus’ knee as he spoke. Seamus could feel the hair he’d been shown earlier. Eddie let out a little whimper. So Seamus sighed heavily. He was sure to drag it out, to let Eddie know that this was absolutely not what he wanted. Then, when his breath was short and he thought he might pass out, Seamus ate the burger.

 He stood up, still chewing. Eddie went sprawling. James laughed behind his hand. Even Dan had to look away and snicker discreetly into the crease of his elbow. Eddie glared at them all. He tucked his arm into Seamus’ and tugged him towards Seamus’ tent. He opened the door for them both, waving the boy inside. He waited until his friend had sat before he took a step inside himself. He turned to everyone still sitting around the campfire and with the dramatic flair only an Eddie scorned was capable of, he yanked the zip shut, enclosing him and Seamus in their own little bubble.

 Seamus had already recovered the plastic box. He’d popped the lid off, looking at all the different colours of string and the beads it came with. The beads looked tacky and too clunky for him. He picked at the thread instead, looking up at Eddie before pulling out strands of red and white. Eddie almost kicked the box over as he scrambled to sit across from his friend, so close their knees touched. Seamus shielded the box, glaring at Eddie from underneath his eyebrows.

“Why aren’t you using the beads?” Eddie picked one up and peered through the tiny hole.

“They’re girly,” Seamus said. He started to weave the thread together with ease.

“Oh,” Eddie dropped the bead. He didn’t think that mattered. Still, he was making a bracelet for Seamus, his friend. Eddie looked at all the colours. He couldn’t resist the sparkly black one and thought that it would pair perfectly with the purple colour. He held them up for Seamus’ inspection. When Seamus nodded, it felt like Eddie had received an A on his math test (a feat he’d never quite managed).

 He got to work, sneaking a glance at the bracelet Seamus was making. Seamus had gone for a classic three strand braid which was nice, Eddie could agree but he wanted to do one better. He went for an ambitious fish tail braid. Eddie began by knotting the top, feeling his tongue slip through his lips as he threaded the strands together. It went better than expected, not perfect – a little lopsided and definitely a little too loose but it was at least a solid strand. Seamus finished before Eddie by minutes, pinching the ends of his so that they didn’t come loose.

“Um,” Seamus said when Eddie held his up, “I’ll tie yours first?” Seamus leant forward with bracelet in hand. Eddie kept his pinched between his fingers. He giggled as Seamus wrapped the thread around his wrists. Seamus smiled too as he tied the bracelet so that it fit Eddie’s wrist. He pulled it a little to make sure it wouldn’t slip off but ensured it was loose enough to stay. When he was done, there was a lot of extra thread just hanging off of Eddie’s wrist.

 “We’re going to need scissors,” Seamus said. Eddie shook his head.

“Why? I like it!” He shook his wrist, forgetting about the bracelet in his hand. It unwound a little as it slipped from his fingers. Eddie gasped, trying to thread it back together. “Seamus, Seamus – quick, quick!” Eddie almost burned Seamus’ arm with the speed he wrapped the thread around his wrist. He pulled it too tight, at first, but Seamus hissed and he immediately loosened it. Eddie tightened it and noticed there was a lot more thread hanging from Seamus’ arm than there was his. Seamus turned his wrist slowly, marvelling at his bracelet. Eddie did the same. They were simple but very, very pretty. Seamus looked up for just a second and Eddie caught his gaze. They smiled at one another. Seamus gestured towards the tent door.

“I’ll go ask Dad if he brought any scissors,” Seamus said.

 He started to push himself up. His palm caught the extra thread and it tugged and tightened the bracelet. Seamus stuck his finger between the bracelet and his skin to loosen it. He showed it to Eddie to prove his earlier point and then he reached for the zip of the tent. That was as far as he ever got, falling back as he heard his father shout from outside.

“No, James! I want to be the race car, not the stupid thimble,” Jordan was screeching. Seamus shared another look with Eddie. An all-knowing “let’s not bother them” look.

“What do you want to do now?” Seamus pushed the box aside. Eddie frowned.

“Well, we’ve still got lots of thread left.” He picked some out.

“So? Want to make another bracelet?” Seamus wanted to try and do a fancy braid this time.

“Nah,” Eddie pulled a little bit out, “but I can try and braid it into your hair… if you want.”

 Seamus stared back at him. Eddie pulled out some blue thread, dangling it near his own short hair and trying to show Seamus just how cool he’d look with it in his. Eddie hadn’t thought it had worked but then Seamus shrugged and said, “Ok.”

So Eddie shuffled closer until their knees weren’t just touching, they were overlapping. Seamus was so close Eddie could pick out his individual eyelashes. He cleared his throat and reached out. It would have been easier for him to just get up and braid it from the back but well, the view was definitely better. Eddie weaved his fingers into Seamus’ hair and smiled at the familiar texture. It was so soft, not clogged with gel like Eddie’s hair often was. He thought it looked nice and Seamus liked to help him stick it up. Eddie wove the thread into a simple three strand braid. When he was done, he tugged on his bracelet instead of the hairband on his other wrist. They shared a laugh that died off until they were just looking at each other instead.

 Eddie fiddled with the end of the braid. This was his moment, Seamus was his love, this was it. He was going to savour each and every second. He knew even if it went wrong, it would still be great. He knew it would.

“Eddie?” Seamus’ hand touched Eddie’s. Eddie could feel the friendship bracelet tickle his wrist. Seamus swallowed. So Eddie leaned forward. He was sure to hesitate, to be sure this was absolutely what Seamus wanted. Then, when his breath was short and he thought he might pass out, Eddie kissed his best friend.

[newstfionline]

The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff!

Get Rich Slowly, 19 Mar 2018

You don’t need a high income to achieve Financial Independence.

Making more money helps, sure, but if you’re diligent about cutting costs, it’s possible to reach financial freedom on even an average salary.

I want you to meet my friend, John. John is an 81-year-old retired shop teacher. He’s a millionaire--but you’d never know it.

John started life as a carpenter. In his thirties, he went back to school to become a teacher. He spent the next twenty years teaching shop at a junior high school in a poor part of town. He retired to financial freedom at age 58. He never had a huge income and he didn’t inherit a fortune.

So, how’d he get rich? He pinched his pennies and doted on his dollars. John achieved Financial Independence by ruthlessly cutting costs.

John doesn’t live in a mansion. He lives in the same small ranch house he bought for $10,500 in 1962. He paid off his mortgage early, and has now lived in the place for 53 years!

John doesn’t drive a brand-new Mercedes or BMW. He drives a 1998 Chevy minivan he bought for cheap five years ago. It’s ugly, but he doesn’t care. It meets his needs and he has no plans to upgrade.

John doesn’t take lavish vacations. He spends his summers in southeast Alaska on an old 38-foot fishing boat that he bought with cash in 1995. He spends his winters doing volunteer work on farms and ranches in New Zealand.

John doesn’t like to dine in fancy restaurants. He’d rather make his own meals at home. “For me, restaurants are a waste of money,” he says. “I don’t appreciate them.”

We’re constantly bombarded by messages that wealthy people enjoy lavish lifestyles filled with luxury. From my experience meeting with dozens of millionaires over the past decade, this kind of lifestyle is the exception, not the rule.

Most wealthy people I know are like John. They’re quiet millionaires. They practice stealth wealth.

But don’t just take my word for it. Let’s look at what the experts say.

In The Millionaire Next Door, authors Thomas Stanley and William Danko share what they learned through years of academic research into the habits of America’s wealthy. Here’s one key takeaway:

What are three words that profile the affluent? FRUGAL FRUGAL FRUGAL…Being frugal is the cornerstone of wealth-building.

They write that millionaires tend to “play great offense” with money--their incomes are much higher than average--but they also “play great defense”. They’re not big spenders. They’re thrifty. They opt out of consumer culture, making purchases based on their personal needs and wants rather than status and fashion.

“Few people can sustain profligate spending habits and simultaneously build wealth,” write the authors. “[Millionaires] became millionaires by budgeting and controlling expenses, and they maintain their affluent status the same way.”

Study after study shows the same thing. To get and stay rich, you have to manage your lifestyle. You can’t outearn dumb spending.

Great. You get it. To achieve your goals, you’ve got to cut costs. But how?

There are two schools of thought:

Most money writers emphasize saving on small stuff. They teach how to clip coupons, conserve electricity, and spend less on entertainment. These small wins are usually quick and easy to achieve.

A few folks urge readers to pursue “big wins”. They argue that the quickest way to wealth is to spend less on big-ticket items like your home and your car. The downside to this approach? Big wins take a lot of work, and opportunities to pursue them are rare.

I believe that a smart money manager does both. She practices thrift on a daily basis and she seizes every opportunity to slash spending on the big stuff.

You could save maybe 50 cents a day by drinking a glass of water instead of a can of soda. That doesn’t mean much if you only do it once, but over the course of an entire year that single change would increase your personal profit by nearly $200. When taken together, many such small economies make a noticeable difference.

Small amounts do matter.

Rather than provide some made-up examples of how much you could save, here are actual numbers from my own life. When I dug out of $35,000 in debt a few years ago, I decided to:

Switch my cable TV package from $65.82 per month to $12.01 per month, saving $645.72 every year.

Get rid of my home phone line (roughly $46.50 per month) and my subscription to Audible ($21.95 per month), saving $821.40 per year.

Cancel my magazine and newspaper subscriptions, saving $137 per year.

Make use of the public library instead of shopping at bookstores, saving $391.95 in the first year.

Plant a vegetable garden to grow my own produce, saving more than $300 per year. (Yes, I’m such a nerd that I kept a spreadsheet to track how much I saved!)

With these changes alone, I increased my cash flow by $2,281.61 per year. That’s an additional profit of almost $200 every month.

You won’t get rich--slowly or otherwise--by cutting your cable bill or growing your own tomatoes. But when small changes are a part of an ongoing campaign of saving and investing, they can bring big changes indeed!

True story: I recently had a friend ask me how to get out of debt. “You can start by getting rid of your $200 cable package,” I told him. “No way!” he said. “That’s the first thing everyone says, and it’ll be the last to go. TV is important to me.” Right. More important than being debt-free, apparently.

While it’s important to save money on everyday stuff, it’s even more important to watch how much you spend on major purchases. By making smart choices on big-ticket items, you can save thousands of dollars in one blow. If you spend fifty grand less when you buy a house, that’s fifty grand (or more!) you never have to earn.

Housing: Housing is the biggest expense for most Americans--and by a wide margin. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics’ 2015 Consumer Expenditure Survey, the typical American household spends 32.8% of its income on housing, which includes mortgage (or rent), maintenance, insurance, interest, and utilities.

In an ideal world, you’d slash your housing expense by buying an affordable home in a city with a low cost of living.

While relocating to a cheaper home in a cheaper city would probably provide a huge financial reward, it’s not exactly easy. A more practical alternative might be to move within your current city. Sell your home (or move out of your rental) and choose something more affordable.

Think about it: If you’re an average American who spends $1534 per month on a place to live, dropping that expense by 10% would save you $150 per housing payment. Drop it by 30% and you’ll save more than $5000 per year!

Transportation: Transportation is our second-largest expense in the U.S. We spend an average of $792 per month (17 percent of the typical budget) to get around, including vehicle payments, gasoline, insurance, and repairs. I know Americans love their automobiles. They’re loath to let them go, even in the face of logic. But imagine how much you could save if you could cut your car costs in half! How do you do that?

Sell your current car. Replace it with a used vehicle, one that’s fuel efficient. (Side benefit: An older, used vehicle will cost less to insure!)

Drive your car only when necessary. When possible, bike or walk to reach your destination. (Side benefit: Increased fitness, which also saves you money!)

Make use of public transportation. (Side benefit: Time to read!)

When I recommend people change the way they get around, I’m usually met with a wall of objections. But let me suggest that instead of looking for reasons you can’t do this, instead look for ways you can. You’ll save buckets of money.

Other expenses: Together, housing and transportation consume half of the average American budget. There are enormous opportunities to save if you choose to economize on these two categories. But you can achieve big wins in other areas too.

The Consumer Expenditure Survey shows that the typical household spent $1846 on clothing in 2015, $4342 on health care, $2842 on entertainment, and $7023 on food.

Because each of us is different and we spend in different ways, opportunities for big wins vary from person to person. After tracking my spending for the last half of 2013, for instance, I realized that I was spending way too much on travel. In 2014, I cut my travel costs in half. This allowed me to save money for other goals, such as buying a motorhome.

The Best Way to Spend Less: A few years ago, I asked my friend John if he had advice for young people who want to retire early.

“Here’s the secret to financial freedom,” he told me. “I don’t care how much you make--you spend less than you earn. You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. Because that is the secret.”

The best way to spend less is to optimize the big stuff.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t make your own laundry detergent or plant a vegetable garden. By all means, do these things! But understand that if all you do is the small stuff, your only hope is to get rich slowly. You can do better.

[foursproutwealth-blog]

The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff!

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/the-best-way-to-spend-less-cut-back-on-the-big-stuff/

The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff!

Important note: If you received this article by email, you are subscribed to the old daily GRS email list, which is going away soon. If you’d like to read Get Rich Slowly by email, subscribe to the new, weekly GRS newsletter here.

You don’t need a high income to achieve Financial Independence.

Making more money helps, sure, but if you’re diligent about cutting costs, it’s possible to reach financial freedom on even an average salary.

I want you to meet my friend, John. John is an 81-year-old retired shop teacher. He’s a millionaire — but you’d never know it.

John started life as a carpenter. In his thirties, he went back to school to become a teacher. He spent the next twenty years teaching shop at a junior high school in a poor part of town. He retired to financial freedom at age 58. He never had a huge income and he didn’t inherit a fortune.

So, how’d he get rich? He pinched his pennies and doted on his dollars. John achieved Financial Independence by ruthlessly cutting costs.

John doesn’t live in a mansion. He lives in the same small ranch house he bought for $10,500 in 1962. He paid off his mortgage early, and has now lived in the place for 53 years!

John doesn’t drive a brand-new Mercedes or BMW. He drives a 1998 Chevy minivan he bought for cheap five years ago. It’s ugly, but he doesn’t care. It meets his needs and he has no plans to upgrade.

John doesn’t take lavish vacations. He spends his summers in southeast Alaska on an old 38-foot fishing boat that he bought with cash in 1995. He spends his winters doing volunteer work on farms and ranches in New Zealand.

John doesn’t like to dine in fancy restaurants. He’d rather make his own meals at home. “For me, restaurants are a waste of money,” he says. “I don’t appreciate them.”

Does John sound like a typical millionaire to you? If you were to believe TV, movies, and magazines, you might think most millionaires live like this:

We’re constantly bombarded by messages that wealthy people enjoy lavish lifestyles filled with luxury. From my experience meeting with dozens of millionaires over the past decade, this kind of lifestyle is the exception not the rule.

Most wealthy people I know are like John. They’re quiet millionaires. They practice stealth wealth.

But don’t just take my word for it. Let’s look at what the experts say.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Fameless

In The Millionaire Next Door, authors Thomas Stanley and William Danko share what they learned through years of academic research into the habits of America’s wealthy. Here’s one key takeaway:

What are three words that profile the affluent? FRUGAL FRUGAL FRUGAL…Being frugal is the cornerstone of wealth-building.

They write that millionaires tend to “play great offense” with money — their incomes are much higher than average — but they also “play great defense”. They’re not big spenders. They’re thrifty. They opt out of consumer culture, making purchases based on their personal needs and wants rather than status and fashion.

“Few people can sustain profligate spending habits and simultaneously build wealth,” write the authors. “[Millionaires] became millionaires by budgeting and controlling expenses, and they maintain their affluent status the same way.”

Study after study shows the same thing. To get and stay rich, you have to manage your lifestyle. You can’t outearn dumb spending.

Great. You get it. To achieve your goals, you’ve got to cut costs. But how?

There are two schools of thought:

Most money writers emphasize saving on small stuff. They teach how to clip coupons, conserve electricity, and spend less on entertainment. These small wins are usually quick and easy to achieve.

A few folks urge readers to pursue “big wins”. They argue that the quickest way to wealth is to spend less on big-ticket items like your home and your car. The downside to this approach? Big wins take a lot of work, and opportunities to pursue them are rare.

I believe that a smart money manager does both. She practices thrift on a daily basis and she seizes every opportunity to slash spending on the big stuff.

Frugality is an Important Part of Personal Finance

You could save maybe 50 cents a day by drinking a glass of water instead of a can of soda. That doesn’t mean much if you only do it once, but over the course of an entire year that single change would increase your personal profit by nearly $200. When taken together, many such small economies make a noticeable difference.

Small amounts do matter.

Rather than provide some made-up examples of how much you could save, here are actual numbers from my own life. When I dug out of $35,000 in debt a few years ago, I decided to:

Switch my cable TV package from $65.82 per month to $12.01 per month, saving $645.72 every year.

Get rid of my home phone line (roughly $46.50 per month) and my subscription to Audible ($21.95 per month), saving $821.40 per year.

Cancel my magazine and newspaper subscriptions, saving $137 per year.

Make use of the public library instead of shopping at bookstores, saving $391.95 in the first year.

Plant a vegetable garden to grow my own produce, saving more than $300 per year. (Yes, I’m such a nerd that I kept a spreadsheet to track how much I saved!)

With these changes alone, I increased my cash flow by $2,281.61 per year. That’s an additional profit of almost $200 every month.

You won’t get rich — slowly or otherwise — by cutting your cable bill or growing your own tomatoes. But when small changes are a part of an ongoing campaign of saving and investing, they can bring big changes indeed!

True story: I recently had a friend ask me how to get out of debt. “You can start by getting rid of your $200 cable package,” I told him. “No way!” he said. “That’s the first thing everyone says, and it’ll be the last to go. TV is important to me.” Right. More important than being debt-free, apparently.

The Magic of Thinking Big

While it’s important to save money on everyday stuff, it’s even more important to watch how much you spend on major purchases. By making smart choices on big-ticket items, you can save thousands of dollars in one blow. If you spend fifty grand less when you buy a house, that’s fifty grand (or more!) you never have to earn.

Housing

Housing is the biggest expense for most Americans — and by a wide margin. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics’ 2015 Consumer Expenditure Survey, the typical American household spends 32.8% of its income on housing, which includes mortgage (or rent), maintenance, insurance, interest, and utilities.

In an ideal world, you’d slash your housing expense by buying an affordable home in a city with a low cost of living.

While relocating to a cheaper home in a cheaper city would probably provide a huge financial reward, it’s not exactly easy. A more practical alternative might be to move within your current city. Sell your home (or move out of your rental) and choose something more affordable.

Think about it: If you’re an average American who spends $1534 per month on a place to live, dropping that expense by 10% would save you $150 per housing payment. Drop it by 30% and you’ll save more than $5000 per year!

“If you’re not yet wealthy but want to be someday, never purchase a home that requires a mortgage that is more than twice your household’s annual realized income. Living in less costly areas can enable you to spend less and to invest more of your income. You will pay less for your home and correspondingly less for your property taxes. Your neighbors will be less likely to drive expensive motor vehicles. You will find it easier to keep up, even ahead, of the Joneses and still accumulate wealth.” — The Millionaire Next Door

Transportation

Transportation is our second-largest expense in the U.S. We spend an average of $792 per month (17 percent of the typical budget) to get around, including vehicle payments, gasoline, insurance, and repairs. I know Americans love their automobiles. They’re loath to let them go, even in the face of logic. But imagine how much you could save if you could cut your car costs in half! How do you do that?

Sell your current car. Replace it with a used vehicle, one that’s fuel efficient. (Side benefit: An older, used vehicle will cost less to insure!)

Drive your car only when necessary. When possible, bike or walk to reach your destination. (Side benefit: Increased fitness, which also saves you money!)

Make use of public transportation. (Side benefit: Time to read!)

When I recommend people change the way they get around, I’m usually met with a wall of objections. But let me suggest that instead of looking for reasons you can’t do this, instead look for ways you can. You’ll save buckets of money.

Other expenses

Together, housing and transportation consume half of the average American budget. There are enormous opportunities to save if you choose to economize on these two categories. But you can achieve big wins in other areas too.

The Consumer Expenditure Survey shows that the typical household spent $1846 on clothing in 2015, $4342 on health care, $2842 on entertainment, and $7023 on food.

Because each of us is different and we spend in different ways, opportunities for big wins vary from person to person. After tracking my spending for the last half of 2013, for instance, I realized that I was spending way too much on travel. In 2014, I cut my travel costs in half. This allowed me to save money for other goals, such as buying a motorhome.

The Best Way to Spend Less

A few years ago, I asked my friend John if he had advice for young people who want to retire early.

“Here’s the secret to financial freedom,” he told me. “I don’t care how much you make — you spend less than you earn. You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. Because that is the secret.”

The best way to spend less is to optimize the big stuff.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t make your own laundry detergent or plant a vegetable garden. By all means, do these things! But understand that if all you do is the small stuff, your only hope is to get rich slowly. You can do better.

Exercise

Pull out your personal mission statement. With that in front of you, brainstorm ways to reduce your spending. No idea is too small. No idea is too big. No idea is too stupid. Do a rapid braindump of any (and all) actions you could take to cut costs. If all your spending were aligned with your goals and mission, where would the money go?

After you’re finished brainstorming, pick three specific ways — large or small — you’ll reduce spending starting this week. (Examples: I’ll walk to the grocery store. I’ll sign up for a library card. I’ll finally cancel my landline.) Also pick one “big win” that you will work to achieve in, say, the next two years. Make this a big, hairy audacious goal. (Example: We’ll go from a three-car family to a one-car family.)

Note: During the month of March, I’m migrating old Money Boss material to Get Rich Slowly — including the articles that describe the “Money Boss method”. This is the fifth of those articles.

Part one answered the question, “What is financial independence?”

Part two looked at why you should run your life like a business.

Part three explained how to write a personal mission statement.

Part four explored the importance of saving rate.

Look for further installments in the “Money Boss method” series twice a week until they’ve all been transferred from the old site.

The post The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff! appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

[foursprout-blog]

The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff!

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/the-best-way-to-spend-less-cut-back-on-the-big-stuff/

The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff!

Important note: If you received this article by email, you are subscribed to the old daily GRS email list, which is going away soon. If you’d like to read Get Rich Slowly by email, subscribe to the new, weekly GRS newsletter here.

You don’t need a high income to achieve Financial Independence.

Making more money helps, sure, but if you’re diligent about cutting costs, it’s possible to reach financial freedom on even an average salary.

I want you to meet my friend, John. John is an 81-year-old retired shop teacher. He’s a millionaire — but you’d never know it.

John started life as a carpenter. In his thirties, he went back to school to become a teacher. He spent the next twenty years teaching shop at a junior high school in a poor part of town. He retired to financial freedom at age 58. He never had a huge income and he didn’t inherit a fortune.

So, how’d he get rich? He pinched his pennies and doted on his dollars. John achieved Financial Independence by ruthlessly cutting costs.

John doesn’t live in a mansion. He lives in the same small ranch house he bought for $10,500 in 1962. He paid off his mortgage early, and has now lived in the place for 53 years!

John doesn’t drive a brand-new Mercedes or BMW. He drives a 1998 Chevy minivan he bought for cheap five years ago. It’s ugly, but he doesn’t care. It meets his needs and he has no plans to upgrade.

John doesn’t take lavish vacations. He spends his summers in southeast Alaska on an old 38-foot fishing boat that he bought with cash in 1995. He spends his winters doing volunteer work on farms and ranches in New Zealand.

John doesn’t like to dine in fancy restaurants. He’d rather make his own meals at home. “For me, restaurants are a waste of money,” he says. “I don’t appreciate them.”

Does John sound like a typical millionaire to you? If you were to believe TV, movies, and magazines, you might think most millionaires live like this:

We’re constantly bombarded by messages that wealthy people enjoy lavish lifestyles filled with luxury. From my experience meeting with dozens of millionaires over the past decade, this kind of lifestyle is the exception not the rule.

Most wealthy people I know are like John. They’re quiet millionaires. They practice stealth wealth.

But don’t just take my word for it. Let’s look at what the experts say.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Fameless

In The Millionaire Next Door, authors Thomas Stanley and William Danko share what they learned through years of academic research into the habits of America’s wealthy. Here’s one key takeaway:

What are three words that profile the affluent? FRUGAL FRUGAL FRUGAL…Being frugal is the cornerstone of wealth-building.

They write that millionaires tend to “play great offense” with money — their incomes are much higher than average — but they also “play great defense”. They’re not big spenders. They’re thrifty. They opt out of consumer culture, making purchases based on their personal needs and wants rather than status and fashion.

“Few people can sustain profligate spending habits and simultaneously build wealth,” write the authors. “[Millionaires] became millionaires by budgeting and controlling expenses, and they maintain their affluent status the same way.”

Study after study shows the same thing. To get and stay rich, you have to manage your lifestyle. You can’t outearn dumb spending.

Great. You get it. To achieve your goals, you’ve got to cut costs. But how?

There are two schools of thought:

Most money writers emphasize saving on small stuff. They teach how to clip coupons, conserve electricity, and spend less on entertainment. These small wins are usually quick and easy to achieve.

A few folks urge readers to pursue “big wins”. They argue that the quickest way to wealth is to spend less on big-ticket items like your home and your car. The downside to this approach? Big wins take a lot of work, and opportunities to pursue them are rare.

I believe that a smart money manager does both. She practices thrift on a daily basis and she seizes every opportunity to slash spending on the big stuff.

Frugality is an Important Part of Personal Finance

You could save maybe 50 cents a day by drinking a glass of water instead of a can of soda. That doesn’t mean much if you only do it once, but over the course of an entire year that single change would increase your personal profit by nearly $200. When taken together, many such small economies make a noticeable difference.

Small amounts do matter.

Rather than provide some made-up examples of how much you could save, here are actual numbers from my own life. When I dug out of $35,000 in debt a few years ago, I decided to:

Switch my cable TV package from $65.82 per month to $12.01 per month, saving $645.72 every year.

Get rid of my home phone line (roughly $46.50 per month) and my subscription to Audible ($21.95 per month), saving $821.40 per year.

Cancel my magazine and newspaper subscriptions, saving $137 per year.

Make use of the public library instead of shopping at bookstores, saving $391.95 in the first year.

Plant a vegetable garden to grow my own produce, saving more than $300 per year. (Yes, I’m such a nerd that I kept a spreadsheet to track how much I saved!)

With these changes alone, I increased my cash flow by $2,281.61 per year. That’s an additional profit of almost $200 every month.

You won’t get rich — slowly or otherwise — by cutting your cable bill or growing your own tomatoes. But when small changes are a part of an ongoing campaign of saving and investing, they can bring big changes indeed!

True story: I recently had a friend ask me how to get out of debt. “You can start by getting rid of your $200 cable package,” I told him. “No way!” he said. “That’s the first thing everyone says, and it’ll be the last to go. TV is important to me.” Right. More important than being debt-free, apparently.

The Magic of Thinking Big

While it’s important to save money on everyday stuff, it’s even more important to watch how much you spend on major purchases. By making smart choices on big-ticket items, you can save thousands of dollars in one blow. If you spend fifty grand less when you buy a house, that’s fifty grand (or more!) you never have to earn.

Housing

Housing is the biggest expense for most Americans — and by a wide margin. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics’ 2015 Consumer Expenditure Survey, the typical American household spends 32.8% of its income on housing, which includes mortgage (or rent), maintenance, insurance, interest, and utilities.

In an ideal world, you’d slash your housing expense by buying an affordable home in a city with a low cost of living.

While relocating to a cheaper home in a cheaper city would probably provide a huge financial reward, it’s not exactly easy. A more practical alternative might be to move within your current city. Sell your home (or move out of your rental) and choose something more affordable.

Think about it: If you’re an average American who spends $1534 per month on a place to live, dropping that expense by 10% would save you $150 per housing payment. Drop it by 30% and you’ll save more than $5000 per year!

“If you’re not yet wealthy but want to be someday, never purchase a home that requires a mortgage that is more than twice your household’s annual realized income. Living in less costly areas can enable you to spend less and to invest more of your income. You will pay less for your home and correspondingly less for your property taxes. Your neighbors will be less likely to drive expensive motor vehicles. You will find it easier to keep up, even ahead, of the Joneses and still accumulate wealth.” — The Millionaire Next Door

Transportation

Transportation is our second-largest expense in the U.S. We spend an average of $792 per month (17 percent of the typical budget) to get around, including vehicle payments, gasoline, insurance, and repairs. I know Americans love their automobiles. They’re loath to let them go, even in the face of logic. But imagine how much you could save if you could cut your car costs in half! How do you do that?

Sell your current car. Replace it with a used vehicle, one that’s fuel efficient. (Side benefit: An older, used vehicle will cost less to insure!)

Drive your car only when necessary. When possible, bike or walk to reach your destination. (Side benefit: Increased fitness, which also saves you money!)

Make use of public transportation. (Side benefit: Time to read!)

When I recommend people change the way they get around, I’m usually met with a wall of objections. But let me suggest that instead of looking for reasons you can’t do this, instead look for ways you can. You’ll save buckets of money.

Other expenses

Together, housing and transportation consume half of the average American budget. There are enormous opportunities to save if you choose to economize on these two categories. But you can achieve big wins in other areas too.

The Consumer Expenditure Survey shows that the typical household spent $1846 on clothing in 2015, $4342 on health care, $2842 on entertainment, and $7023 on food.

Because each of us is different and we spend in different ways, opportunities for big wins vary from person to person. After tracking my spending for the last half of 2013, for instance, I realized that I was spending way too much on travel. In 2014, I cut my travel costs in half. This allowed me to save money for other goals, such as buying a motorhome.

The Best Way to Spend Less

A few years ago, I asked my friend John if he had advice for young people who want to retire early.

“Here’s the secret to financial freedom,” he told me. “I don’t care how much you make — you spend less than you earn. You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. Because that is the secret.”

The best way to spend less is to optimize the big stuff.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t make your own laundry detergent or plant a vegetable garden. By all means, do these things! But understand that if all you do is the small stuff, your only hope is to get rich slowly. You can do better.

Exercise

Pull out your personal mission statement. With that in front of you, brainstorm ways to reduce your spending. No idea is too small. No idea is too big. No idea is too stupid. Do a rapid braindump of any (and all) actions you could take to cut costs. If all your spending were aligned with your goals and mission, where would the money go?

After you’re finished brainstorming, pick three specific ways — large or small — you’ll reduce spending starting this week. (Examples: I’ll walk to the grocery store. I’ll sign up for a library card. I’ll finally cancel my landline.) Also pick one “big win” that you will work to achieve in, say, the next two years. Make this a big, hairy audacious goal. (Example: We’ll go from a three-car family to a one-car family.)

Note: During the month of March, I’m migrating old Money Boss material to Get Rich Slowly — including the articles that describe the “Money Boss method”. This is the fifth of those articles.

Part one answered the question, “What is financial independence?”

Part two looked at why you should run your life like a business.

Part three explained how to write a personal mission statement.

Part four explored the importance of saving rate.

Look for further installments in the “Money Boss method” series twice a week until they’ve all been transferred from the old site.

The post The best way to spend less? Cut back on the big stuff! appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.