#when they asked him what his favourite colour is he said rainbow

[stackedbirds]

donghua qi rong's design is so funny to me bc he literally dresses like this

it's giving "mom let me pick my own clothes for the first time today" except this man is 800 not 8, and certainly not 3

[bedoballoons]

maybe like a character x mitsuri Kanroji like reader?

so basically misturi has pink and green hair, is very cheery and nice, has a HUGE appetite, she has almost inhuman strength a basically her muscle density is 9 times higher than the average human. And is extremely flexible hand a ribbon like katana. I think a pryo vision fits best.

I literally love your workkkkkkkk♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Awe thank you!!! <3 I had so much fun writing this!! I hope you like the characters I picked and I'll totally write others if you don't!! Sorry it took so long to finish!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Misturi Kanjiro like reader!~༺}

CW: Fluff! Sweet moments! Pet names! (Belle by Lyney and Love by Kazuha!), confirmed relationships for most of them!

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, Kazuha, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

Your stomach growled hungrily in excitement as you stepped into the kitchen, Dilucs long red hair tied back in a messy bun while he prepared breakfast, his hands busy chopping vegetables and cooking up your favourites, just because he loved spoiling you. "Are you making what I think you're making?!" You asked excitedly, hurrying to his side to take a peek and smiling widely as the smell of delicious food hit your nostrils, making your tummy growl again in response.

"But of course and I made extra so you could have leftovers for lunch." He leaned over placing a kiss on the top of your head as you cheered and wrapped you arms around him in a celebratory hug. "Thank you!"

𑁍༄Lyney:

You had a bounce in your step as you made your way through the crowd of people, your long pink green hair tied up in sweet pigtails as your eyes focused in on the center of attention, which was Lyney and of course his assistant Lynette, the magic duo of the century. Pure joy bubbled through you while you watched the two of them perform trick after trick and the audience clap after each one, things you swore couldn't happen, but somehow he made them happen.

Then to your surprise his eyes landed on you, a mischievous smile taking place on his lips, as he addressed the group of watchers once again, "For the next trick, I'd like to pick someone from the audience! Hmmm what about you Belle, could you do the honours?" He pointed to you, your face instantly blushing red as you walked towards him, his hand gently taking yours and leaving a rainbow rose in its wake. "Could you hold this for me?" He asked, his cheeks slightly pink which made you want to giggle, he was kinda cute..."Okay!"

"Now put your hands together, rainbow rose on the inside and make sure no one can see it." You followed his directions, closing your hands around the rainbow rose and making sure there were no ways to peep at it, your whole body tingled with excitement as he spoke the magic words. "And reveal!" You pulled your hands away and suddenly your singular rose had turned into a whole bouquet, growing right in front of your eyes and bursting with all the colours of the rainbow.

"WHAT!"

𑁍༄Albedo:

"No matter what tests I try...it seems I'm unable to come up with a explanation for your inhuman strength. You're a mystery to me...a sweet adorable mystery." Albedo said softly, his bright blue eyes meeting yours as a blush spread rapidly across your face, your heart pounding harshly in your chest when he stood up and made his way to you, his hand reaching out to help you up from your seat.

"I'm not the only mysterious one Mr. Chalk prince, speaking of which! Do chalk people eat cake?" You beamed up at him, his arms wrapping around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead, a small chuckle escaping him. "Im not sure chalk people is the appropriate term...but either way, yes I eat cake." You hugged him back lifting him up slightly as you cheered, "Yay!! I have some in my bag! Let's go!"

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Fire swirled around you in brilliant orange and yellow hues, shifting and whirling in every which way with the wind as its guide, it mesmerized you to the point you were almost speechless. "Kazuha...this is so beautiful!" Your hand squeezed his tighter, your visions glowing in harmony as he hummed in delight and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "The way wind mixes with the elements is very calming, the colours that flow with every breeze and the way it can bring vision bearers together, letting them work in harmony. It's lovely.."

You nodded happily, your eyes trained on the incredible sight all around you...

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer flashed a smirk at you, his eyes wide with excitement as you readied your weapon, the ribbon like texture of the blade making him raise an eyebrow...what the hell were you going to do with a ribbon? "You sure you don't want to back down? I won't go easy on you, even if this is sparing." His voice rang in your ears as you smiled back at him, your katana glinting in the sunlight as you held it up in his direction, "I won't back down! Just you wait!"

He chuckled and with that the match begun, the two of you shooting forward at high speed, wind blades flying mere centimeters from your face as you delicately dodged. Your body spinning slightly as you got closer, your katana swirling like a protective shield around you and yet also being sharp enough to draw blood, which became clear when the two of you parted.

The dust parting and revealing a small cut on wanderers face, his eyes absolutely shining now as he laughed maniacally, "I shouldn't have underestimated you! This is going to be fun!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[buzzyb33]

Podcasts

Prompt: a collection of clips from a podcast with Y/n and James- literally just them being a cute couple

Warnings: swearing, established relationship, both Y/n and James are content creators, short,

(I have so many requests and stuff but this just came to mind after seeing Ethan and faiths new podcast so.. I’ll get to them soon I swear)

One occurrence was the newest podcast, the two have videos every Thursday and read stupid Twitter threads and Reddit posts.

“So, James.” I say as I adjust my position.

“Yeah? Go on.” He smiles and I clear my throat, exaggerated.

“Would you rather kiss me for 100,000 grand or kiss the prettiest girl in the world for a million?” I cross my legs as I put my phone down from reading.

“Well- what? I kiss you everyday. So I- can just do it.. but for money? So obviously you.” He says, adjusting his glasses.

“That’s the wrong fucking answer, James.” I shake my head.

“What? Why? We don’t need a million- I suppose it’d be nice.” He speaks and watches me carefully as my jaw ticks.

“No! I’m the prettiest girl in the world! You’re meant to say: ‘oh y/n, I could kiss you and get the million,’ because I’m meant to be the prettiest girl in the world!”

I scoff and slam my hand as he starts laughing.

“Yeah-! That’s- what I meant! Oh fuck off that was a trick question. Yeah, I’d kiss you and get the million.” He pleads his case with amusement.

“Who’s the prettiest girl in the world?” I ask.

“You!”

I shake my head. “Not what you said before..”

Another time was a bit random, but it sits a nice place in Y/ns heart.

“You know, Y/n is getting her room re done. She claims she isn’t a loser but the amount of five nights at Freddy’s and Pokémon stuff is organised on her shelf I thought I was going to have a seizure from all the colours.” James says, flexing his fingers.

I roll my eyes, opening my mouth to speak but the frowning.

“I’m sorry- you’re a content creator and don’t know the five nights at Freddy’s lore? And I bet you could name like two fucking Pokémon.” I scoff, sipping my coffee.

He looks at me and laughs.

“You get so defensive! And I can name many Pokémon, you’re just borderline obsessed.”

He states and I scoff again.

“Sorry, James, how many fucking guitars do you own?” I retort and he rolls his eyes.

“I get payed for that, very different.” He replies and I scoff.

“Guys James is just mad he acts tureen years older than he is.” I snicker and he smiles.

“Okay, haha.”

Though, James’ favourite clip of the two is when they had Willne as a guest, him sat on the middle.

“So, how long do these normally go on for?” He asks as he shifts in his seat.

“About an hour.. maybe longer so..” James pulls his phone out, checking the time.

“Around an hour or something left.” He says and I nod, finding some threads to read out.

“What’s your home screen?” Will asks as James checks the time.

His face turns a little pink, only visible by the tips of his ears and nose.

“It’s me and Y/n in Australia.” He shows will and he can’t help but smile.

The photo consists of Y/n eating a cone of ice cream, one hand in James’ as they walk ahead of whoever took the photo, the sun is just setting and she has his rainbow scarf draped over her shoulders.

At that, i look up.

“What? The one Jago took?” I ask as I peer over and James nods.

“Awe..” I smile and he looks away.

“What’s yours then lass?” Will asks and i smile as I lock my phone to show him and the camera.

The photo is of my lips smooshed against James’ cheek and his hand in my forehead, attempting to push it away, I was sleep deprived when I did that and Jono found it hilarious at James’ trying-not-to-smile expression and snapped the photo.

Will fake gags and then chuckles.

The finally, the end of 2023 podcast was a fan favourite.

“What was your Spotify wrapped?” He asks, pulling his own phone out.

“I thought I’d ask on the podcast.” He adds with a smile.

I smile at his Tory accent and check.

“I haven’t looked yet..” I say as I tap through it.

“Hm. My number one song was heartbeat by childish Gambino, number two static by Steve lacy, number three was so long by you, number four was crying lighting and five was 505 by arctic monkeys.” I say with a soft smile.

“You have me?” He asks with a skeptical tone.

I scoff and shove my phone near him as he smirks.

“Alright alright.. artists?” He asks and I see.

“Arctic monkeys, you, Kanye west, childish gambino and TV girl.” I smile as I hand him my phone.

“I don’t think me and Kanye should ever be next to each other. In any list.” He says with a stupidly serious time and I let out a giggle.

“Shut up. What was your favourite edit of the year?” I ask and he shrugs.

“Edit? I don’t know..” he clearly thinks.

“Mine is the josh Hutcherson one.” I smile jd he rolls his eyes.

“Could at least lie and say it’s one of me.” He scoffs and I laugh.

“I did like the one where it was taking what’s not yours and it was a ship edit of us. That was sweet.” I smile and he nods.

“I saw that.. stop being al soft. Now I look like a prick.” I smile teasingly and he scoffs again.

A/n

Guys I’m so burnt out I know I have loads of requests but don’t let that stop you from keeping the coming cus I will be writing my favs first.

Also maybe I just wanted to yap about my interests and put them into the reader. Oh well.

Requests are open!

Masterlist!

[prime-adeptus]

Vient la douleur

Neuvillette lives in the aftermath.

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN!Reader

Content: Major character death, suicide, implied/referenced self-harm, grief/mourning, past relationship. More narration than dialogue. (~3.2k words)

Note: Just working through some things :') I gave this my all, so please be kind and let me know what you think!!

Read on AO3

There are a lot of things Neuvillette could liken you to.

You were the sun, shining bright on the gloomiest of days with your joyful disposition and beautiful smile. You were his favourite melody, someone he could listen to for hours and hours on end. You were his rainbow roses and windwheel asters, the flowers of love and freedom. You were everything a romantic could ever dream of, even if you never saw it in yourself. You were the missing piece he needed all along.

Most important of all: you are his beloved, the one who held his heart in their hands.

Solitude was far from a stranger. Though Fontaine is hardly a place with a scarce population, he was more used to being by himself. He didn’t join in the hustle and bustle of the city, and he didn’t play house like the children did. Instead, he found a hobby in watching the vibrance of human life alone from the sidelines, learning in trial and error what it meant to live. Emotions didn’t come as easy to him as it would to the average person. He could feel a raging inferno in his chest or a chill trickling down his spine, but he’d never have the words for it. All he could do was watch the skies change with his thoughts in the form of a downpour or a tempest.

But in solitude, he also met you.

You came into his life like a whirlwind, as only the best kind. You met him without fear but with eagerness and excitement that he couldn’t help being mesmerised by. Your smile was the first thing he noticed about you. He remembers how it reached your eyes and how it showed the dimples in your cheeks. He didn’t know it at the time, but those would become one of his favourite sights in his life.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!”

You called him with a sense of familiarity that, oddly, he was comforted by. He understood then what the poets meant when they said it felt like the world had stopped for them. In a matter of a few seconds, he felt like he’d known you for years, just because of how warm you felt. Whether it was by chance or by fate matters little to him; regardless of what it had been, it brought you into his life.

Every love song he’d heard from the opera’s chanteuses began to make sense. ‘Love at first sight’ is truly a curious phenomenon. Exploring the depths that are human emotions then was a journey that led to more questions than answers. How do humans know when they’re in love? How do humans know when they’ve met ‘the one?’ He supposes he’ll never get a solid answer to these questions, but he’ll take one in the form of you. Perhaps he never needed to ask. Perhaps all he had to do was wait for the day your souls intertwined.

One chit-chat led to a conversation, and those conversations led to a routine. He’d see you at the park in the evenings and then walk you home when he felt it was getting late. Some days, he’d sit with you in a gazebo away from the crowd and just watch many lives pass by. Though your conversations mostly consisted of you talking and him listening, he liked it. He liked how expressive you were, how he always wanted to see more. The wonder in your eyes was something he’d grown fond of very quickly, but that wasn’t the only thing about you that he’d fallen in love with.

Just seeing you interact with your surroundings alone made it clear that you loved everything. From the city to its people, from the flora to the fauna, there wasn’t a single thing you weren’t happy to see. You brought colours into his life, showed him the vibrant side of the world he hadn’t seen yet. He was almost envious of how carefree and outgoing you were. A friendly smile, a gentle wave, some small talk about the weather; socialising came naturally to you. It fascinated him and warmth would blossom in his chest every time he saw how animated you could get. But there was no room for envy, nor was there a need to be. You were a breath of fresh air and you felt like home.

You liked to tell him that there’s always something good waiting for him the next day. That daybreak is a sign that you’ve lived for another day even when you don’t feel like you did anything valuable. I just look forward to every day! you had said, giving him a grin that always left him stumbling for words. It didn’t answer his inquiry, but it was enough. It appeared to him that you loved life, and getting to be happy with others is only a part of what makes it so special for you.

He didn’t have much to do outside of the Court. His free time was mostly spent reading or water tasting. Sometimes he’d bring work home just to ensure he recorded everything correctly. It was quite an average routine that changed when he met you. The moment you met, his days became livelier. It must’ve been quite the sight for Fontainians indeed, to see their Chief Justice taking afternoon strolls with a dessert in hand. He didn’t care for the hearsay that inevitably circulated from his new activities. What mattered was that you were becoming an integral part of what used to be mundane and changing it for the better.

It was not often that he had the time for leisure. Still, he found it difficult to deny you anything, and so he’d always find a way to make time for you. That time would be spent in the gardens or restaurants, occasionally in the front seats of the Opera Epiclese if there was a show you wanted to see. When it got dark, it would be spent in the comfort of his home with you on his lap as he read to you. Sometimes you’d fall asleep in his arms and your lips would curl into a small smile when you felt his lips touching the crown of your head. Affection wasn’t something he was used to as it wasn’t exactly a necessity, but he found himself craving yours.

The puzzle pieces fell into place on their own as if there was a telepathic bond between you and him. There was never a label for what you two were. The papers would call you lovers or companions, depending on what they caught on camera. It didn’t matter much to him, either. What he knew was that there was a bond, something that intrinsically linked your hearts to one another, and it made every day feel like summer.

Before long, he realised that you were right. Something good awaits after every daybreak, something that will brighten up his day and light up his heart with joy, and for him, it was you.

—

Time flows like water, unending and always in motion. The world turns and the days go by, turning into months and years that pass in a blink of an eye. Time is a witness to every step one takes and it remembers every story that unfolds. Time is what Neuvillette has plenty of and it is kind to him. He learns and adapts to the world as it changes around him without haste, letting years of knowledge build him into the person he is today.

Time, however, treats people like you differently.

Where he never aged, you did. Where it didn’t wear him out, it did to you. The glimmer in your eyes grew more dull over the years. Your smiles became rarer, and you no longer talked to those you considered your friends. You never told him why you were changing. It was as if your heart had betrayed you, making what used to shine bright grow dimmer and dimmer until it was completely extinguished.

In the face of it all, you still had plenty of love to give. You still held him every night as he sought for solace in your arms. You still listened to his curiosities and indulged in everything he had to ask. At the same time, it felt as though you were too far for him to reach you. As though you were fading deeper into the darkness until the only echoes he could hear were his own. His heart ached to see you this way, and for someone as meticulous as he is, he was at a total loss.

Even then, he refused to leave you. He will always love you no matter what you become. He’d love you in every way and he’d love you through thick and thin, through the calm and the tumultuous.

Six hundred and ten days have passed, and it continues to hold.

You left with everything he was and behind a letter in your wake. In it was an apology that etched its words into his bloodstream and a memory that appears every time you cross his mind. In it also came a promise that you’d find him in your next life no matter how long it takes, for your soul has found a home in him. And finally, in it was a wish: that you wanted him to live without regret, just like how you never regretted your time with him.

‘You can find happiness again without me,’ you wrote. Your tears stained the paper where ink seeped and blurred some of the words. His heart aches to think of the guilt you carried with you even after death. Of how afraid you must’ve felt as the poison flowed into your system, and how alone you must’ve been.

The sight is still engraved into his very vision: your limp, lifeless body with both old and fresh scars across your skin, the vial of poison on the floor and the sealed letter in your hand. Composure was second nature to Neuvillette, but none of it was to be seen when he found you. His hands were shaking as he took you into his arms and held you close. His heart felt heavy as if it was coming to a stop. Emotions brewed within him like a storm, volatile and disorderly, but not a word left his lips.

By the time Sigewinne arrived, reality had sunk in, and every prayer he had shattered like glass. The rainstorm lasted for weeks after that. Only by the fourth did the rain finally stop and even then, the skies seemed to be in a permanent state of gloom with the clouds shrouding the sun and stars. Fontaine eventually got back its clarity much later, and people seemed to already move on from the strange natural phenomenon that had occurred.

Six hundred and ten days have passed, and he still misses you as much as he did that spring.

Life without you felt more like dusk than daybreak. The splash of colour had melted away and days felt longer without someone waiting for his return. His home is eerily quieter and more hollow. Your favourite trinkets were never moved from where they were placed on the shelves. The book he’d been reading to you every night stays open and unturned on the table. His own home had turned into a paradox—you were here, but you also weren’t.

How strange, he thinks, how he still feels so acutely alone even with everything you left behind. He’s been through grief time and time again, but it never gets easier. If anything, this is perhaps the most harrowed he has ever felt.

The cemetery had begun to feel more familiar than it should. He hears everything that people say there. He hears them talk about how they wish they could see their loved one welcoming them back home. He hears them talk about how they wish they could just hear their loved one’s laughter one last time. How they wish they had professed their love before it was too late, how they wish they could say all the things they never dared to say. In this, he is not alone. His thoughts flow in that very same direction.

Neuvillette is not a selfish man. There is nothing he heavily desired that he’d do anything to obtain. And yet, he wonders if he should and could be just this once. Everything he wants is you. Every face in the crowd he sees is you, and every song he hears is in your voice. If he had just been more selfish and demanded you to stay, would he have been able to stop you? Would you still make the same decision?

He wakes up every morning to a cold and empty bedside. He leaves without a kiss goodbye. He comes home with no one to welcome him back. Suddenly he has returned to where he once was, alone and closed off from the world around him. Being by himself isn’t as daunting as it used to be, but nothing could ever replace you. With you, loneliness hardly existed. Without you, he has returned back to where he started.

Tick, tick, tick. The clock is the only sound he can hear on this dreary night as he watches it strike twelve. His eyes stay trained on his reflection in the glass, hoping that he’ll see you coming up to embrace him from behind like you used to.

You never do.

Yet another date on the calendar is crossed out. The ring glimmers in the moonlight from where it lays in its velvet box. He’d imagined it playing out in his mind, from the proposal to the look on your face as you told him yes. It was a gift that he spent a long time preparing and waiting for. A surprise that would always make you smile whenever you thought about it.

It was meant to be a promise, one that he would keep for as long as you’d let him.

But you never got to celebrate your birthday, and so he lets the candle’s flames die out on their own. With a heavy heart, he puts the ring back where it was on the shelf. Some plans go awry, but he can’t give up yet. There will come a day when he meets you again, and only then can he finally tell you everything he wanted to say.

For now, they remain unspoken. The promise is never made, and he alone is the witness.

—

Neuvillette wakes up to a world without colour.

Everything around him is painted in different shades of grey, from the trees swaying in the wind to the crystal-clear water in the fountain. Faceless passers-by are scattered across the plaza, talking amongst each other in hushed and intelligible words. As he walks down the stone path, he becomes acutely aware that this is merely a dream. And yet, he is completely lucid; he can feel the breeze against his skin and hear the birds chirping in the distance. His body moves at its command, continuing down the path to the destination only it could know.

He finds himself atop a grassy hill that overlooks the horizon where he can see a person standing on the edge. Your back is turned, but there’s no mistaking it—he’d recognise you from anywhere. It goes far deeper than memory. It's his instinct, his life, and he’d always choose you no matter what decision he has to make. He comes to a halt just as you finally look at him, and what was only a vignette bursts into vivid colours.

The world is no longer grey as vibrance returns to where it belongs. Neuvillette’s breath gets stuck in his throat the closer you approach him. You aren’t in the clothes he’d last seen you in. You’re dressed in white and you hold a bouquet of rainbow roses in your hands, every piece of it in full bloom.

“You’re here!”

This is a dream. He knows he is. But it sounds exactly like you, looks exactly like you, and he’s missed you so deeply that he’ll happily stay in this trance a while longer. He parts his lips to speak, but no words come out. There’s a light burn in his nose and behind his eyes the longer he looks at your joyful self. Without realising it, a tear rolls down his cheek, and he finds that he can finally breathe.

His hands shake as he reaches for you. Before he can revel in feeling you beneath his touch after so long, your skin turns cold and you melt into his hands until nothing is left behind but water. Only remnants of the mirage he’d just seen are left behind. And as if they never returned, the world turns grey once more before it completely fades into the dark.

Now, Neuvillette finds himself in his bed.

Rain pitter-patters against the window beside him and behind the shower is the sunrise, coming up ever so slowly. He casts a glance at your side of the bed and it is still empty, devoid of your warmth. It constantly reminds him of how cold and empty this place is, a stark difference from what it was when you were around. The sun has not yet risen. Hues of dark blue spread across the sky and obscure the stars, casting a dreariness upon the entirety of Fontaine.

The chill nips at his cheeks as he leaves his abode and makes his way to the cemetery in silence. He remembers the path to your grave like the back of his hand, a bitter fact he lives with, but he reigns himself in. The bouquet of Lumidouce bells in his hands suddenly feels much heavier as he gazes down at your picture. It’s already beginning to lose its colour thanks to the time and weather, so he reminds himself to replace it as soon as he can.

He gingerly puts the bouquet down on your altar. He imagines how you’d chide him seeing him in this state, how you’d wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close. He wonders if you have returned to the cosmos or the seas and if you’d be able to feel how much he yearns to be with you again. If there is an afterlife, is it a place where you are happy and free of every burden you carried? If he listened to the waters, would he be able to hear you calling his name?

(Six hundred and eleven days have passed, and his questions remain unchanged.)

Deep in his heart, Neuvillette fears that there will come a day when he forgets the way you looked or the way you sounded. Your voice has already become distant in his mind; it won’t be long before the years take you away from him again. Perhaps time isn’t as kind to him as it used to be.

But for you, he must continue to live, as much as he wishes he could turn back time and spend more of it with you. For you, he must fulfil your wish and honour you the best way he can. For you, he will hold on and wait for the next time you’ll grace him with yourself and your love.

Not once have I regretted my time with you, you had written.

He wonders if you’ll ever know that he feels the same way.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Lights Out - Daniel Ricciardo

<word count - 1347>

You had just been sat on the couch, watching some TV when everything shut off. The lights went out, the TV turned off and you were left in total darkness. The only light source you had was the moonlight streaming through the windows. 

The storm outside had been going on for a few hours, so you thought you'd steer clear of a blackout this time, but you were unfortunately wrong. 

You grabbed your phone from next to you and immediately turned the torch on. You didn't like the dark at the best of times, but when there was no light available to you, it scared you more than the darkness normally would. 

Sitting, paralysed in the dark with only your phone torch to comfort you, every bolt of lighting that shot through the sky sent shivers down your spine. Every rumble of thunder rumbled you as you sat there, unsure of what you could do. 

Around half an hour had gone by of you, sat in the dark, willing the power to come back on, you heard a knock at the door. This sent pure fear flooding through your veins. No one should be out at this time of night, during a storm, during a power outage. 

You walked to the door and looked through the peephole, relief instantly washing over you. With a smile, you opened the door to see Daniel stood there, a glow stick necklace looped around his neck. 

"Sorry to show up unannounced, but I know you hate blackouts and I thought you could use some company. Plus, I brought enough glow in the dark stuff to supply a whole kids party," he laughed, the wind from the storm ruffling his curly locks as he stood there. 

You let him in the house and guided him over to the couch. "OK, so, in Daniel's bag of tricks, we are starting with... Drum roll please," he said, rummaging through the bag as things rustled and clinked together.

You clapped your hands on your thighs to make the drum roll sound, and he pulled out the first of his surprises. "Now, you can match me," he smiled, handing you the freshly opened packet of glow sticks that he had brought.

Pulling them out of the packet, you used the connectors to make yourself a matching necklace, as well as a bracelet. "Here, I made you one too," you said, handing him the glowing band before cracking your necklace as it kicked into life and illuminated into different colours. 

"Why thank you," he said, slipping it onto his wrist, "Are we ready for the next item from Daniel's bag of tricks?" He asked, stuffing his hand back into the bag. 

"Always," you smiled. He'd only been there for around ten minutes, but he was already making you feel better about the storm. "Next up, we have... Beach scented candles!" He exclaimed, doing jazz hands with the candles in his grip. 

"Don't worry, I also brought a lighter," he said, setting them down on the coffee table and lighting them up. The orange flames danced in the darkness, and they lit the room up with a warm glow. "Anything else in the bag of tricks?" 

"I have these colourful torch things that my nephew left last time he was at mine," he said, handing you a few different ones with different coloured bands around the handle. Switching one on, the light wasn't the same, yellow light that torches normally emitted, it was pink.

Testing the other ones, they were all different colours of the rainbow. "I have one more thing, but I'm saving those for later," he told you, but you were already satisfied with what he had brought already. "Thanks for this, I really needed it," 

"No problem, there is no better way to spend a blackout than with my favourite person," he said, poking you in the stomach and tickling you. "Daniel, stop it," you choked out between fits of laughter. As he carried on tickling you, you could barely speak since you were laughing so hard. 

You were lying down as he leant over you, still poking you in the sides and jibing at you. 

"Daniel, please," you cried, trying to push him away, but he was too strong. In retaliation, you started poking him in the ribs as well, and he immediately doubled over and rolled off you, giving you the upper hand. 

Straddling his sides, you carried on tickling him, "OK, I surrender, I surrender," he cried, putting his hands up in defeat. "That's what I thought," you smirked, smugly. 

"Now I didn't think this was how this was going to end," Daniel winked at you, and you jumped off him, blushing profusely. You would have thought you had gotten used to his suggestive, yet playful, comments, but they still made your cheeks red regardless. 

You took a minute to catch your breath, when Daniel spoke up. "Are you ready for the final phase of my master plan," he said, leaning back on the couch.

"Of course," you smiled, and watched as he sprung into action. He went to the basket in the corner and took out all of the blankets in there. Then, he swiped all the pillows off the couch and onto the floor. Finally, he went down the corridor and into one of the spare bedrooms, raiding it of the pillows and blankets in there too. 

"Right, we're making a pillow fort," he announced, standing and looking at his mountain of blankets and pillows. You secured three corners of the massive blanket to the three corners of the L-shaped couch you had, and then used a lamp to make the fourth corner. 

On the sides, you draped over the other spare blankets to make the walls, and the rest of the blankets were kept inside the pillow fort for comfort. You scattered the pillows around stood beside Daniel with your hands on your hips, gazing triumphantly at your work.

"You got any snacks?" Daniel asked, pulling his laptop out of his bag. 

"Yeah, I'll go get them," you said, taking a candle off the coffee table to go to the kitchen and raid your snack cupboard. When you got back to the lounge, you couldn't see Daniel, but you could see the light from his computer in the pillow fort. 

You went through the curtains and saw the glow in the dark stars he had stuck on the roof of the fort. "You like it?" He asked, scrolling through his laptop to find the next movie in the series you had been watching together. 

"I love it!" you gasped in awe. It was like he had plucked the real stars from the sky and stuck them on the roof of your pillow fort. "This is perfect," you smiled, crawling through the fort and taking a seat next to Daniel on one of the pillows. 

"I try," he sincerely smiled, the light from the fake stars reflecting in his eyes. It was like the night sky had been captured in his irises. You snuggled up next to him as he started the film. "We don't have to carry on watching this, but I thought it'd be good to finish the series," he smiled.

"Yeah, it's about time we finish it," you said, resting your head on his shoulder as he draped a blanket around your shoulders and his, making you even cosier. Under the blanket, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

Every now and then, the lightning cracked in the sky and he pulled you closer to him as you tensed up. There was nothing better than spending the worst of times with the best of people. You spent the rest of the night, watching movies and munching on snacks until dawn rolled around and the power eventually came back on.

When it did, you turned all the lights off and closed the blackout curtains to make it dark again, because you prefered the glow of the glow sticks and candles, and you didn't want to lose sight of the stars on the roof. Not yet, anyway.

A/N - This one is dedicated to the love of my life @lipringlrh, I have missed you a tonne, and I thought I'd welcome you home with a bit of Danny Ric 💖. If anyone has any requests, feel free to message me or make a submission. Love you all!

|masterlist|

[allwaswell16]

One Direction fics that include social media into the fic as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Harry/Louis—

♡ Your Mess Is Mine by amory

(M, 176k, kid fic) Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that's what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that's left him a little broken and more than ready to move on.

♡ A Love Like War by sincewewereeighteen 

(E, 173k, famous/not famous) the one in which Louis Tomlinson is a cliched rock star, he's got everything except for love. But then he meets Harry Styles; the man that, against all odds, saves him in every way a person can be saved, even when Louis didn't know he needed saving in the first place.

♡ Walk That Mile by purpledaisy / @daisyharry

(E, 149k, road trip au) A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

♡ You You You by @isthatyoularry

(M, 137k, famous/not famous) the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

♡ Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip au) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

♡ say you want me by orphan_account

(M, 37k, famous/not famous) Harry’s a closeted pop star and Louis is the uni student he keeps fighting with on Twitter

♡ From the Start by @allwaswell16

(E, 32k, fake relationship) Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

♡ You're the Light by @allwaswell16

(E, 31k, newspaper au) What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

♡ The Daddiest Place on Earth by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

(E, 23k, Disney World au) Louis. Harry. Instagram. A whole lot of confusion and a whole lot of laughs...

♡ Anonymous Said by @alivingfire

(T, 21k, tumblr) two boys, two blogs, two years of anonymous messages, and a bookshop where it all comes together

♡ Then We Talk Slow by @letsjustsee

(E, 20k, famous/not famous) A famous/non-famous AU in which Louis banters back and forth with his new record company on Twitter, only to find out that Harry is the man behind the tweets.

♡ blend into my favourite colour by rainbowninja167 / @rainbowtitania

(T, 19k, coffee shop) Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can't figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online.

♡ Found My Missing Piece by @styleandsin

(NR, 16k, fashion au) Louis and Harry are both fashion bloggers. Louis' been following Harry for years. Harry and his blog really gave him the confidence and the push to make his own.

♡ you don't have to play the part by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale

(M, 16k, famous/not famous) the one where Harry is Britain's new pop sensation, Louis is R&B star Zayn's sassy social media manager and things get confusing

♡ This is a Rainbow War by @lululawrence

(NR, 15k, famous/not famous) the one where Harry's a famous singer, Louis is part of his road crew, and after Harry gives Louis a special assignment regarding rainbow flags, things maybe turn out a little differently than either of them planned.

♡ it do be like that sometimes by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(T, 14k, enemies to lovers) an enemies to lovers AU inspired by my short experience in this crazy fandom and my even shorter experience on stan Twitter

♡ from, your secret admirer by flicker_album / @niall-official

(T, 13k, secret admirer) the one where Louis is Harry's Tumblr crush so he sends him secret admirer messages for Valentine's Day

♡ Nailed By Louis by @haztobegood

(E, 9k, cooking au) It had started as a joke, just two months earlier. Louis had tried to make recipe from HarrySizzles Instagram account.

♡ Hot Chocolate by @kingsofeverything

(E, 6k, chocolatier Harry) Harry wants to make something new for Hot Chocolates, his small batch chocolate shop. Louis offers to help.

♡ Kiwi by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(M, 6k, exes to lovers) The last place Louis expects to see Harry again after ten years is performing at a music festival in Chicago

♡ The Places Where We Met by Chelsea Frew / @chelsea-frew

(G, 5k, famous/not famous) Harry Styles loves his job as 1/3 of a famous boy band. It does, however, get lonely, and he counts on a special online friend to get him through.

♡ Missed Connection by @kingsofeverything

(E, 3k, Craigslist) Harry is absolutely clueless when it comes to figuring out if other guys are into him, so he enlists his friend Niall to assist. That may or may not be a mistake

—Rare Pairs—

♡ One In Ten Million by craigtrash

(M, 36k, Zayn/Liam) University student Zayn Malik is a big fan of One Direction, world famous boy band, especially member Liam Payne. When Liam accidentally tweets his phone number, Zayn takes a chance that changed his life.

♡ walk, walk fashion baby by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 23k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Louis loves his supportive boyfriend, his passionate and interesting band of friends and coworkers, and his pair of quirky and dedicated dogs. What he doesn’t love is his job as co-editor of the Lifestyle section at a popular site aimed at millennials.

♡ Almost Feels Like Nothing's Changed at All (If You Close Your Eyes) by Hllangel / @glitterbootsandyellowshorts

(G, 3k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) The tweet went out about two minutes ago, but it's basically blown up his notifications, and probably his life.

[maitaitiu]

home, together

wordcount: 1617 botw zelink, post calamity. pre totk for @jimmyjims as part of @zelinkcommunity 's loftwing letters! thank you so much for letting me join! this was a lot of fun :) happy valentines day everyone :D i hope you like this jimmyjims, i do love writing botw hurt/comfort ^_^ read on ao3

synopsis:

It had been a nice day, until a storm rolled in. Zelda and Link are both struggling with memories of a storm from long ago, and reminders of all that they’ve lost. Friends, family, and their own childhoods. They find comfort in each other, and a multi-coloured plush toy.

Truth be told, while Zelda hadn’t been especially conscious during the last hundred years, she’d been at least lucid enough to miss things. Rain, for example.

And she had enjoyed it earlier today- two weeks after finally being freed from the Calamity- when a small shower had passed over Hateno Village. She’d spun around and splashed through puddles, carefree in a way she couldn’t remember ever being. But the rain had continued on, and only gotten heavier, and eventually she’d had to retreat back into Link’s home, lest she catch a chill.

It had been a few hours since then, and the storm had only progressed further. And now, Zelda was hunched over the desk upstairs, with a plush toy in her lap, trying too hard to focus on writing her daily journal entry (a habit she was trying to keep as a way of keeping her still-frazzled brain in check), and therefore was unable to focus on it at all.

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek did little to stop her from flinching every time a clap of thunder rolled through the air, but she did it anyway, needing anything to distract her, even the tiniest bit, from the anxiety that the thunder drummed into her heart.

Even worse, she was cold, too.

She’d grab a quilt off the bed and wrap it around herself- or better yet, just climb into the bed and curl up under the covers, until the storm was over- but Link was currently splayed out underneath the blankets, apparently sound asleep.

It was his bed, but he’d been pretty insistent that Zelda use it since he first invited her to stay with him. And though she’d tried to argue with him- it was his house; his bed! He should use it! – he continued to persist until she eventually gave in to the heavy tiredness she’d felt that first night. And somehow every night since then, Link had managed to convince her to keep sleeping there.

Not today, though. Today, Zelda had really put her foot down about him using his own bed. While she’d been frolicking about and enjoying the rainshower in the morning, Link had been off clearing out monsters in the nearby woodland. He’d sustained a gash on his upper arm, which was such an unusual occurrence that it was evidence enough for Zelda to convince him that he needed to rest properly for once, instead of just settling on the floor with a rolled-up pile of clothes for a pillow.

As glad as she was that he was resting now, it did little to calm her nerves about the storm, and how she longed to curl up in the bed next to Link. Wait, no. Just in the bed. That belonged to Link. Not… Next to him.

The strange thought caused warmth to bloom across her face and she stared even more intently at the mostly blank journal page in a futile attempt to clear her mind.

Instead, her thoughts drifted over to the thing on her lap- a custom made sand-seal plush. Made in every colour imaginable, bought by Link specifically for Zelda. He said he asked for every colour since he couldn’t remember her favourite, and also because rainbow was more fun. And when she’d pried further into why he’d got it at all, he’d eventually quietly admitted that he just wanted her to have something of her own to come home to.

She hadn’t really known what to say to that. So touched that she was stunned into silence.

She didn’t remember ever having any plush toys as a child. And now she had one that had been made especially for her. Not because she was the Princess, not made by the Finest Artisan Craftsman In All The Land or whatever, but made by a kind merchant because Link had wanted her- her. Zelda- to have something nice.

At home, the plush rarely left her side.

Zelda squeezed it to her stomach as a particularly loud clap of thunder seemed to shake the house. She closed her eyes tightly and decided that perhaps the strange thoughts about Link were far preferable to the visions and memories that the thunderstorm burned into her mind.

She felt silly for being so upset. It was just thunder!

She shouldn’t be almost crying over a bit of a storm!

But the way it rumbled, the flashes of light that lit up the world for a split-second, and how the earth almost seemed to shake. It was just… just… like…

Zelda hugged the plush tighter, and curled in on herself, huddled over the desk. She ran her fingers over the mismatched fabrics, the stitching, the wooden eyes, feeling the way the sturdy canvas fabric was still soft to the touch. Tried to focus on the fact that it was hers and it had been made at the request of Link, who was alive, who was well, and both of them were okay and safe.

Anxieties still not quelled, Zelda summoned all her courage to open her eyes and glance behind her. The window was there, but so was the bed.

She flinched as a bolt of lightning flashed somewhere in the far distance, but soon was more concerned with the fact that Link was definitely not asleep.

Unsure of how exactly she could tell, but certain anyway, Zelda sat up straighter and turned in her chair, to view him properly.

There was just something. Strange.

The rise and fall of the quilts covering him was just a little bit too quick for him to be asleep.

“Link?” she spoke in a soft voice, trying to hide that she was shaking.

A face appeared out of the blankets. Pale in the grey evening light. His eyes were glassy.

He ducked down, avoiding Zelda’s gaze, his eyes squinted shut as the thunder rumbled on by.

Zelda’s grip on the plush tightened momentarily, too. But she stood; crossed the room, and after a second of hesitation, perched on the edge of the bed.

She sank into the mattress, being always so pleasantly surprised about how comfortable it was; even the simplest luxuries were delightful after a hundred years of hell, and the smallness of the bed meant her shoulder was pressed against Link’s. She didn’t really mind, being far more concerned with him being upset.

Because of the thunder.

Like her.

Plush in hand, Zelda stayed silent as she tried to think of what she wanted to say, if anything at all. She turned the thing over and over in her hands as she did, and tried to ignore the warmth in her face when Link laid his head on her shoulder. Though, the contact with him- alive, breathing, and well- did help her feel just a little bit better.

“You can talk to me,” she eventually said, voice quiet, “If you want.”

She turned to look at him, and he looked up at her, still leaning on her shoulder, and then he looked out across the room.

Zelda followed his gaze to the portrait of the two of them alongside all the Champions.

While Link had been notably chattier and more expressive since the fall of the Calamity, Zelda had noticed he also tended to become much more guarded when he was worried over something. Still, though, she had plenty of experience in reading his subtler expressions, and she was fairly certain she knew what was troubling him so much.

“I miss them, too,” she murmured, and put the plush into Link’s lap instead, “It’s still so horrible to think about. But… I’m glad I still have you, Link.”

Still staring at the picture on the wall, Zelda missed the soft blush that faded into Link’s cheeks, as he mumbled his own shy agreement.

After a moment of simply holding the plush in his hands, Zelda watched as Link set it back on her lap, and, without much hesitation he then wrapped his arms around her torso in a tight, but gentle, hug.

Initially, she tensed up. She was hardly used to being held. But the warmth of the embrace was just so nice, and calming, and overwhelmed with the fear of the thunder and what it meant, and overwhelmed with just how dearly she cared for Link and how she felt he thought the same way about her, Zelda found her breath hitching and tears pooling in her eyes.

She threw her arms around Link, too, who seemed surprised by the amount of force behind the returned hug, but he didn’t falter.

Was this what it felt like to be loved despite all your mistakes? Was this what it felt like to be safe despite the harshness of the world?

If so, Zelda finally understood why people were so obsessed with love.

She had loved Link before now; had felt loved by him, too. But that had been the same way she dearly loved her friends; the Champions, Impa, Purah, and all the others who had touched her life. But this felt different somehow. Warm in a new way, in a way that bloomed the sensation of a campfire under a cloudless, starlit sky, through her whole body.

Outside, the rain lashed down upon the ground, the wind howled, and thunder shook the earth. It was frightening, it was loud, and it brought up memories of the worst thing either of them had ever lived through. But, they had lived.

They had lived. And they were here. Together.

And tangled up in quilts and pillows, wrapped safely in Link’s embrace, while she held him just as tenderly, with a plush sand seal squashed between them, Zelda finally felt at home.

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Lockwood and Co. show notes

the parts in different colours are important (link to part 2) and my thoughts on the first two books.

episode one

love the opening shots on their gear before we see them

his smirk. music in the kitchen is so nice.

the angry biscuit munch.

the only other person who calls Lucy "Luce" is Norrie I think.

I love how we get to see the past and care about Lucy leaving. (although I would have loved it if we had reference to Lucy's sisters as well there could be a huge age difference between the two or something)

So with Ghost Touch being a bigger deal in the show makes a lot of sense because it is a medical emergency and in the books we do see people die from this and of course people ending up in a coma makes it a little more interesting because coma and it could be explained by who has Talents? Joe explain yourself.

love the fail montage (funny thing I was reading Hollow Boy at this point and shoved my book pouch to the side to show Lockwood and sister picked it up and compared the illustration to show Lockwood and just wondered at it)

biscuit cronch and say hi to the skull. Love how gleeful George was about the gunshots

I love the way Ruby Stokes said "no" in response to the Beck question

Lucy wanna fight. tour music is great and i love the framed newspaper.

love the little skip at the bottom of the stairs

little smile over the unlocking of the door.

Lockwood's face when she asked him about the advert. love how earnest he is

Lockwoods fighting is so good. That picture frame is so well made

love the entire exchange of Lockwood taunting the ghost

hugs and jump

episode two

i love this bit floating inbetween bit

Lockwood's "my partner" and her reaction to calling him that is so funny (so is the nurses's)

I love the Annie theme

I love the argument.

the smile when he comes in "unicorns or rainbows" George internally is 100% going "oh Lucy yells at me but she's not going to yell at him"

"it's our USP" Earnest Lockwood is favourite

was the hand grab needed to wake Lockwood up?

I wanna set tour so bad

I love the fight... I love the little birds on the window

Goerge loves a mystery. Hand flex and smile. I love communing with Annie (lost in translation "my lord")

"by firing Lucy Carlyle" i love Lockwoods worry at Barnes asking to get rid of Lucy

amazing deduction no other possible person playing hamlet.

"you need a ladder" love this line

love this bonding session with George although the question "dreamed of coming to London with" feels like there should have been an interaction before?

George calling out Lockwood for naming Lucy in the news (and Lucy eavesdropping)

love the training session

Barnes is a little shit and I love him though something needed to be done to set this scene up better

I love this bit between Lockwood and Lucy its so well acted and i love the music

love this fight and swong (a forest by the cure) sword chains and umbrella

I love their reactions to revealing the necklace and the censorship.

episode three

i love the delivery of "see a man about a ghost"

why so intense an eye contact in the elevator? (sister is wondering where they found the silvertongue to get Lockwood out of the book whilst holding Hollow Boy again)

how loud are Lockwood and George yelling?

I want to know all about Ellie

missing scene: how they find their house after DEPRAC breaks in the door (+ what DEPRAC finds)

love the delivery of "looks like blood"

thoughts: should have put the screaming in the screaming staircase (the chanting works but when we hear the word screaming we think of screaming)

like that the both save her from the well

love the sparkles as the grenade goes down the well

the goggles are great. I love the show of Annie's ring flying through the air as her ghost emerges.

love Penelopes coat

and Lockwoods ring (sister: love George's sticky fingers when he gets displeased)

missing scene: when did the certificate come up? he mentioned it happend in the van but how would that have happened without Lucy noticing?

episode four

the glass on the side was that warm Ribena but you know no longer warm? who wrote the notes?

love the little fish thing in the kitchen

I adore this exchange and George's "you good Lockwood?"

"do you remember us carrying you?" always have this in my mind "to me to you to me to you" but I must wonder how they carried her there is a few stairs between the basement and the attic

again love this bit and hype up Lucy time.

Flo reference

where's the uniform? considering how annoying the three are good thing there is no way to identify them properly? or nah? also the discreet part will never not be hilarious

"no backbone" love that coming from the older man who can't see ghosts and has to rely on kids then to say that about them

Lockwood "I'll protect you" show (not sure where I was in the Hollow Boy at this point but "come off it Luce you know I'd die for you" pipeline)

the bone glass design is really nice. I love how taken aback Lockwood as seeing the bullet wound

Bickerstaff looking imposing was something they did well. and the music when Lucy springs to action (after having a startling realisation)

I love this bit with the skull how soft it says "oh you can hear me"

Love George and his delivery of "is it talking to you know?" is so funny.

missing moment: "would never bollock [lucy] like this" feels like there is a lot more context there

also imagine if at the end of the fight (just so Lockwood barely hears it) Lucy mutters to herself "should be used to people not listening to me" and it comes up much later (angst what can i say)

cosy quilt. and love this little moment of Lockwood approaching the landing door and touching it then nodding

this would have been a great time for her to bring up Jacobs/ her mum but Lockwood needed his moment to share a little of his pain as well so I'm not mad. also the focus on their hands is so cute.

"I'm not sure what i should" Lmao Lockwood

I wonder what George would have said if he were there?

How long was Barnes standing there and George being startled is so funny.

love this little contest between Bobby and George

I love Barnes telling the two groups to back each other up and in the last episode they finally do it

love the delivery of "walking appendix"

random funny thing: "not filling out more forms" why is that lockwood? hmm... also in the credits there are listings for the ghost performers but i didn't get a chance to properly look

[maelstroms-blog]

This is just a silly thought i had, it took me ages to put it into words. [I forgot how to grammar],.then of course.it dissolved into hurt/comfort. Oh well.

Dream had seen many times, always in dreams. Birthday parties. How he detested the noise, the shouting, the lights, bright and flashing, and the vivid colours that all blended into one.

It was an irritable sight, but one that had to be tolerated. To be the embodiment of the unconscious mind, unfortunately, involved birthday dreams.

Dream never saw rhe point, humans celebrating their march towards his sister, only to balk and fight against her embrace.

Truly, confusing creatures.

No, Dream never paid the ritual much attention, not since his poor Orpheus was alive. Then, he met a certain immortal, who was turning 667.

It was through an overheard conversation, between Hob and Mervyn of all people, or creatures, having a cigarette break. Through the thick plumes of smoke, he watched his Hob smile,

'Do you know what I miss? Birthday cakes,'

'What are you talking about?' Mervyn grunted,

'Birthday cakes!' He repeated, gesturing wildly, 'To make a cake from scratch and gift it to your loved one, there's just something so wonderfully human about it, don't you think?'

His brown eyes sparkled, the same way they did when Dream first met Hob. That mischievous gleam. Dream had to physically restrain himself from pouncing on him.

Mervyn sighed, 'I guess,'

Hob sighed, 'It's been centuries since I received a birthday cake. A big one with icing and cream and all sugary nonsense.'

Dream could see the appeal, before their centennial meetings, cakes would have been akin to gold. Only for the upper class. Hob would have been lucky to see one, let alone taste one.

'Victoria sponge was my favourite, simple, sweet.' The noise he made shouldn't have sent a shiver up Dream's spine, but it did.

Mervyn grunted, 'Don't have a taste for sugary things,'

'You're missing out,'

'Can't you just go to a shop and buy one?- he blew smoke out of his eye holes,

'You got cake money, don't you?'

'I do, but it's not as good as homemade, especially getting one as a gift.'

Dream didn't hear the rest, he retreated into the shadows, a plan already forming in his mind.

It was another week before Dream could find the time. He waited until Hob left his flat, locking the door behind him. Dream waited then appeared in his kitchen. It was clean, modern, with a few antique appliances, ones that Dream had only seen in dreams. He glanced at the oven, eyeing it the way you would a wild animal.

Dream turned, opening his book to the correct page. There were plenty of baking books in the library and Lucienne was quick to find an adequate one. She offered it with a knowing smile. He said nothing, focusing instead on the task at hand.

He preheated the oven, although he didn't see the point. Why would an oven need warning to do its job?

The first step was easy, finding a bowl, pouring in flour. The flour did end up being tricky, a powdery cloud shot into the air, settling in Dream's hair. His nose twitched, he sneezed. He shook his head, sending a flurry of powder to the ground.

Engrossed, he didn't look up when he heard familiar flapping, Hob left the window open for a reason.

'Hey boss,' Matthew greeted, 'What're you-,'

He stopped, head tilting as he took in Dream's appearance. His usual dark demeanor, dyed white with flour, whilst a rainbow apron was tied around his tiny waist. He supposed it was an odd sight for a king. He didn't care, it was for Hob.

'What is it, Matthew?' Dream asked, voice as regal as ever, 'I am busy,'

'I can see that, just checking up.'

Dream looked at his raven,

'Lucienne sent you, didn't she?'

Matthew ducked his head, 'What? No.'

Dream sighed, 'Well, since you are here, you can offer some assistance,'

'Oh, good...'

Dream didn't notice his tone, he was pulling out eggs and scanning the recipe.

'Fold in two eggs,'

Dream looked at the bowl, he looked at the eggs. With one quick motion, Dream pulled the mixture back and tucked the eggs inside, like the eggs were his sleeping subjects.

Matthew cawed, 'Uh, boss, what're you doing?'

'Baking a cake,' Dream answered, simply,

'Yeah, but the eggs?'

'The recipe states to fold in the eggs,' he picked up a whisk,

'Are you saying it's wrong?'

'No, you're meant to crack the eggs, to make it all liquid-y.'

As if on cue, there was an ungodly crunch when Dream plunged his whisk into the bowl.

Matthew hid his face under his wing. He hoped Hob liked his cake crunchy.

'Did you add sugar?'

Dream's mixing paused, 'Was I supposed to?'

'...yes,'

'Cakes are inherently sweet, are they not?'

'No!' Matthew spread his wings, 'You need sugar,' he flapped around Hob's kitchen, 'Where does he keep the sugar?'

'I do not know,' he reached for a blue bottle and upended it. The stench of vanilla was overpowering, even Dream was wrinkling his nose.

'Too much!' Matthew then raised his beak, sniffing at the air,

'Uh, boss, did you turn the oven on?'

At his question, Dream actually looked smug,

'Indeed, it was the first step,'

Matthew shifted nervously from claw to claw,

'How high though?'

In leiu of an answer, a burst of black smoke billowed out of the oven. Matthew screamed, in a surpringly human-like way.

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

Hob had lived a long life, a very long life, and there are some things you never forget. It was in London when he first became acquainted with it. That horrible, burning smell. It permeated the air until you could taste the ash on your tongue. It had been weeks until Hob's skin healed, even longer for him to stop coughing.

He never forgot that smell, though. And now, as he entered his flat, his nostrils burning. He immediately grabbed his extinguisher and burst through the door, he was met with a very strange sight.

His oven, on fire, a screaming, squaking raven, frantically trying to put out said fire by splashing in the sink, and at the counter, his lover, the king of dreams and Nightmares, waving Hob's own rainbow apron, trying to quell the flames.

Icy blue eyes, normally so calm, shimmered with galaxies as he panicked. Matthew let out another shriek, his wing lit up like a candle.

Wasting no more time, Hob pulled the pun and sprayed the entire kitchen.

Once everything was doused, and Matthew was calmed down, Hob led the way out of the ruined kitchen to the couch for first aid.

'What, pray tell?' Hob began, rubbing cream on Dream's hand,

'Possesed you to ignite my kitchen?'

He wasn't angry, and for that, Dream was grateful. Despite the other man's weak attempt at levity, Dream didn't miss the flicker in his brown eyes, especially at his hands. His usual, pale skin was blistered red. It would heal when Dream thought about it, but he didn't. He kept the burns.

Matthew, unusually quiet, was grounded, his left wing hidden under a bag of ice and curled up.in Dream's lap, his little body shivering from leftover adrenaline. Every so often, Dream would place a hand on his raven, soothing him, hoping his touch would convey his apology.

Dream looked away, 'I...wanted to surprise you,'

'Well, you succeeded,' Hob smiled, it vanished when Dream bowed his head,

'I am...sorry,' he muttered, 'Believe me, this was not my intention.'

'Course, duck, I know that,' he gently patted his shoulder, Dream continued, or tried to,

'I-I wanted...I-I heard-,'

'He wanted to make you a birthday cake,' Matthew piped up, then promptly went back to silently shivering. Dream hugged him closer, more grateful than ever for his outspoken raven.

Hob blinked, 'A cake?' Why would you-,' then he realised,

'Oh, you heard me talking with Mervyn,' he sighed. At the sound, Dream stiffened and turned away. This was the worst possible outcome, and he couldn't even reach for his sand. He flexed his sensitive fingers. A beat passed, Hob silently looked at his lover, then, wrapped his arms around the Dream king.

Dream could only blink in surprise,

'Why? Why are you?' His voice was thick, he couldn't move his head to look at Hob but could feel him nuzzling into his messy, wet hair.

'Oh, my love, thank you,' Hob breathed, near tears,

'Why are you thanking me? I failed to create your birthday cake, and in doing so, I ruined your kitchen,' his eyes misted over,

'I don't deserve your gratitude.'

Hob gently shushed him,

'You're wrong, you do deserve my gratitude. You went out of your way to make me something, something you had no clue how to make, all that you did know was that you wanted to make me happy,' Hob gently raised Dream's head, until he could look into dark, watery eyes,

'No one has done that for me in centuries.'

'But your kitchen-,'

'I can have it fixed, what matters is that you're OK,' he lifted Dream's bandaged hand to his lips, carefully, as if a kiss could heal the skin.

'And me,' Matthew piped up, he was rewarded with a head scratch.

'I truly am sorry, Hob,'

'I know, duck,' he rubbed his thumb along Dream's cheek, wiping away a stray, sparkling tear.

'But, hey, isn't it the thought that counts?'

Dream couldn't help himself, he let out a small laugh. At the sound, Hob hugged him tighter, kissing him all over.

'Hey, come on you guys,' Matthew cawed, 'I'm traumatised enough already.'

Based off that scene from Sleeping beauty

[strawbubbysugar]

So(u)l Chapter 3

Some worldbuilding as sun explores his new sudden sentience !! Here's the AO3 link to read it there as well! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48206098/chapters/121565296#workskin

———

He had been handling this .. fairly well. At least, as well as he could dare hope. It had been a few weeks at this point, and he’d been able to continue his programmed job as he usually did. Except .. with a lot more second guessing himself. A little more hesitation. A LOT of new anxiety, too. He’d never had to think about what he was doing or how he went about doing it before- and now that he could? It made him question *everything*. Every calculation he made was now subject to scrutiny rather than trusting the math, and every word out of his mouth was one he had to purposely think about speaking rather than it flowing as easily as preprogrammed lines. It was terrifying.

It was also.. exhilarating. He laughed with the children, real laughs. He played, *really* played. He did crafts with them, he told stories, everything he had been doing already since he’d been created. But it was *different* now. It all meant something, it was all on *purpose*. He WANTED to do it, and knowing that he himself was the one that made the children laugh, play, sing, dance.. it made him feel wonderful. Better than wonderful, it made him feel..

Happy.

The children could tell something was different now. Children always could. The daycare attendant was being asked questions far more often than he used to be asked, and personal ones too. He’d been asked his favourite colour several times before- yellow, of course. Today they’d asked his favourite food- fizzyfaz, no question! .. though he’d never really tasted it before. He couldn’t; he didn’t have a real mouth. He just liked the way it sounded. Fizzyfaz. It sounded like crisp soda bubbles coming out when you cracked open a can. And now, he gave them a different colour every time they asked. Wednesday, pink had felt like his favourite. Thursday, green! Today, he had said rainbow.

He lifted his faceplate with a smile, sitting all scrunched up at a kiddie table with one of the children, before their parent arrived to pick them up. Checking their scribbles, he felt his chest swell with pride at seeing the drawing of himself, holding the child’s hand. Oh, he loved it when the children drew him. That was one of the first things he’d decided he loved. He also decided that he loved all the children in the daycare, and he loved the daycare itself, and he loved sundrops and moondrops and- well. He loved *everything*! Love was his new favourite emotion. Besides excitement. Or maybe delight? There were so many wonderful different words to place how he was feeling every day.

Though that lingering anxiety usually tended to tint that delight, colouring it with a faint unease. What had happened to make them wake up? He’d asked moon what he thought, and he’d had a theory. He didn’t share it, though. Sun was quickly learning that his counterpart was a man of few words. It was so *interesting* to him how quickly they began to differ, how unique they’d become in the span of only a few weeks. Moon in the last few days had become especially.. different. He’d been slowly warming up to the idea of being a person, of being awake. He and sun had begun speaking, really speaking to one another, and discussing what all of this meant.

Sun had realized that moon didn’t often get asked questions like he did, given the nature of his job. So every time a child asked, he relayed it to moon as well. Moon’s favourite colour was red. Dark red, like their ribbons. His favourite food was nightmares. Sun thought that was a delightful thing to eat, and how wonderful it was that he was so good at his job with the little ones. He was quieter now with the children than he’d used to be, and a thousand times more careful. As if the awakening had also awakened him to the sudden realization of how *big* he was compared to their tiny, fragile bodies.

The children kept sun from thinking too deeply throughout the day, allowing him to feel that joy over their newfound freedom, and all the excitement and wonder that suddenly existing granted them. Towards the end of the day, towards the scheduled sun’s setting at midnight, however, that same anxiety always creeped back in.

If anybody found out about this, surely they’d be disassembled. Surely they’d have their minds splayed out and picked through line by line, code by code, until they figured out what had happened to grant him this gift. Or worse, maybe they wouldn’t care. They’d just see them as defective, and decommission them.

He hadn’t realized he had begun to shiver until he felt a small, warm hand on his, covering the crayon that he had snapped in half.

“Mr sun?” The little boy asked, pausing in his masterpiece in the middle of adding the v shaped birds in the background.

He was the last child of the day, and one of his mothers was running late. Sun didn’t mind much, but he did hope that she would arrive before closing. He doubted that she would arrive late enough for moon’s shift, but .. still.

“Yes, Gavin?” He smiled at him, spinning his faceplate and leaning down even more to make it clear he was paying attention. Gavin giggled at this, reaching up and patting his face with a flat hand.

Sun’s eyes squinted as he did, though he didn’t pull away. He continued to smile, keeping his faceplate tilted slightly.

“Did you have a question, friend?? I’m happy to answer!”

Gavin seemed to think about it for a moment, before looking at his wrist. It appeared blank to sun, who tilted his faceplate in the other direction.

“Mr sun, do you think you’ll like your person?”

Sun blinked a few times, optics clicking as he did. “My person?” He mused, tapping his unmoving bottom lip thoughtfully. “Well, I like everybody!! So I’m sure I’d like any person!” He held out his arms wide, as if offering a hug to every person in the world.

“Noooo!” he snorted. “*Your* person! My mum says that everybody has a person. Some people even have two! Or three! Maybe even more, but I’m not too sure. That seems like a lotta people.”

Gavin paused, swinging his legs in the chair as he resumed his colouring while he spoke. “My mama says that you get signs about your person, so that you can find them. Becauuuuse.. the universe WANTS you to. But ..” he frowned slightly, sighing as if the weight of the world was on his little seven year old shoulders.

“I dunno.” He blew a raspberry, shrugging. “I feel like maybe I won’t like mine. Or they won’t like the stuff I like. Or what if they’re gross and pick their nose??” He looked to sun with a grimace of disgust, who was listening intently.

Sun laughed, leaning back closer again. “I’m sure if they’re meant to be your bestest friend then they’ll be perfect for you!”

Soulmates. Sun was programmed to answer questions about this- in fact, he’d been doing his own research. Well, moon had. In spite of the heavily child proofed search engines in the computers around the ‘plex, moon had been able to figure out a few things.

One, every person had at least one soulmate, barring any outliers.

Two, these soulmates didn’t need to be romantic. They could be friendships, familial, something called ‘queer platonic’.. but the majority of them trended towards romance.

Three, you had to be fully conscious to have a soulmate. This meant that your brain had to be fully developed. Thankfully, this allowed people to grow and become themselves without becoming horribly symbiotic with their person or people at a young age. It also meant no 16 year old lovebirds running off in the middle of the night when their parents wouldn’t let them stay out past curfew because the power of love was all they needed.

It was usually around their mid 20’s that people began seeing signs, the most common first sign being the first words you’d ever say to each other being marked on your forearm. The second most common one was a string- though it tended to only begin appearing in situations where the couple were likely to miss one another in a crowd, or a large area.

Usually, these first signs were enough. Fate had a very nice way of working itself out, allowing people to meet one another without even realizing at first that they were fated.

If this didn’t work, however, the universe got a bit more creative. Moon read accounts of increasingly rare signs. Everything from seeing the things your person wrote on themselves on your own body, to more drastic and horrifying ones like damage to your body being matched on your person’s. It seemed like the signs got more and more difficult to ignore the longer it took the people to connect- the connection seeming to be confirmed when all parties involved realized that the other was their fated.

It made moon feel sick. It was the first time he’d felt anything other than confusion and mild irritation, when he wasn’t tending to the children. A person had to experience these things. Things that sounded.. frankly.. awful to live through. He hated the idea of someone he didn’t even know having this much power over him. That was if they even did have one, after all, they hadn’t been BORN a person, they’d become one.

Sun’s hand fidgeted, rubbing the words etched into his left forearm. Words that he’d spotted after the children had left that first day they’d woken up. Words that wouldn’t come off no matter how much he scrubbed at them. Nobody else had seemed to notice them, none of the children had asked about them either. This was normal, he’d learned. Nobody else could see your marks but you. A nice little way of keeping others from exploiting them.

He had been certain it was one of the kids that wrote something on him, but the handwriting was far too neat. It was bubbly, soft. The words rounding out nicely and leading into one another almost as if they were cursive.

*’Oh, ———’*

The second word was censored by his programming, which stressed him out beyond belief. Was it a curse word? Was it some terrible drawing? He’d agonized over it for days after daycare hours had ended, with moon insisting that it wasn’t there.

He said the word on their arm said,

*’Wow’*, in a similarly bubbly, but much more scribbled handwriting.

“Mama says you get words first, usually. It’s not the same for everybody.” Gavin suddenly spoke again, after having moved onto a new piece of construction paper.

Sun nodded thoughtfully. “.. r.. right! Right, it’s .. it’s always different for people. Everybody gets their own unique signs! You’re very smart, Gavin, your mothers must think you’re very grown up to talk to you about this!!” He patted his head, ruffling his hair.

That made the boy perk up, smiling wide and looking up to the attendant. “Yup. They said that since I was old enough to watch the big kid cartoon channel, that I’d prolly start seein stuff about it.” He tried to shrug nonchalantly, as if being a big kid wasn’t such a big deal, even though it really really was.

Sun gasped loudly, putting his hands over his cheeks. “The big kids channel?? Oh, wowwowWOW!! That’s VERY grown up!!”

Gavin giggled, scribbling a little harder at his drawing, now shyly focusing on it instead of looking at the attendant. “I hope I get a best friend person. I don’t want a kissy lovey Dovey one.” He stuck out his tongue as though the thought of it made him ill.

“Oooh, I hope so too! Best friends are the BEST! If you have a forever best friend, you can have slumber parties all the time, and play dress up and hide and seek and tell each other secrets and never ever be alone!!”

He already had company forever in moon. He was very happy to have someone with him, even if he didn’t always speak. It made sun feel far less alone when the daycare closed for the day, in those few hours before moon’s shift began. Maybe moon was his fated! It would make sense, they were always together, and he could say with certainty that moon was HIS bestest friend! But he was positive that the first words he had heard moon say weren’t a curse word. Besides, he wouldn’t be getting signals like the words on his forearm if he was. All signals disappeared once you’d connected with one another.

The little boy hummed in agreement. “What’s your person like, Mr.Sun?”

His rays spun, optics flicking to look at the boy again once he’d realized he had been staring at his own arm for longer than a minute. “M-my person??” He spun his faceplate a few times to process the thought.

“Well.. you’ve met Moon already!” He chuckled. “I think he’s wonderful, he’s very quiet, but he’s very funny too, and he’s wonderful at taking care of all of you during naptime!”

“Is Mr. Moon your person??” He asked curiously, unaware of the thought that an adult figure could have things they weren’t sure of.

“I think so!!” He wobbled, voice sounding far more uncertain than he’d meant for it to come out. “I mean- he’s definitely my bestest friend!!”

He sent out a ping to him, wanting moon to hear that.

Moon sent a ping back, assuring him that he did not need to hear him declare moon as his bestest friend for the 30th time today.

What would the other option even be? sun thought to himself. That we have a person out there? Another robot in the same situation as us, or.. maybe even a *human*? What would that human even think, if they saw him?

They’d probably be expecting another human, not a seven foot tall, jester themed animatronic running a daycare in a theme park. They certainly wouldn’t be expecting *two*. And what if this supposed human soulmate wasn’t the same person for the both of them? How would that even work? Would they take shifts going on dates?

He heard a snicker in the back of his mind.

*Yes. Nice restaurant with high ceilings. Call ahead to see if they allow robots.* Moon’s voice poured itself over his counterparts code.

Sun sighed. Moon was right. Even if their person, by some miracle, was fine with what they were.. the world certainly wouldn’t be. Their parent company didn’t even know they were awake, and the attendants didn’t know what they would do to them if they DID know.

There were too many variables. Too many things he couldn’t be sure of, too many ways that this was just.. *wrong*.

He rubbed at the letters on his forearm, hoping that if this really did mean he had someone out there for him.. they could trade him for someone better. Another human, that could have a life with them beyond the need for charging stations and a wire on the ceiling.

He felt another ping, from the daycare entrance this time, letting him know that someone had arrived. He looked up and to the door, spotting Gavin’s mother. Hopping to his jingly feet, he scooped up the boy along with his artwork and skipped to the front desk. He traded her the boy and his artwork, giving her a highlight of his day at the daycare before sending them on their way. Pretending not to notice how the adults looked at him was getting easier. It had broken his heart the first time he saw a grimace at his appearance.

The daycare was officially closed now, at 10 pm sharp. He let out a quick artificial breath, drumming his fingertips on his sides with his hands on his hips, surveying the daycare and where to start first with his cleaning protocol to get it done before moon’s shift at midnight. He feigned cracking his fingers outwards, stretching his arms with a big sigh. “Time to clean up!”

[helloliriels]

Sleepless in London

PREV | AO3 FIC | MOVIE COVER

“Rosie … ?”

John came walking back into the kitchen to find Rosie climbing back up onto her seat at the counter.

He bought himself a little time by pouring her a cup of tea. Making sure it was in her favourite tea cup. The one with a little chip in it, from when she was younger … As he thought about how to ask … exactly what had led to them reading the letters he had so carefully hidden away … ?

He took a deep breath. Centering himself. Not letting the anger slip into his voice. The frustration. 

He found he was doing that a lot lately … 

.

He looked at Rosie. Swinging her feet, and delighted at her handiwork with the letters … 

. The letters … 

.

John sighed again.

“Rosie -” he began, “I-” he felt the letter in his pocket, and then stared hopelessly at the neatly laid rows of piles on the countertop … “I put these away, Rosie? The letters��? Remember?”

He handed her cup over and leaned his elbows onto the counter as he drank from his. 

“What made you bring them back out for Sam?” 

.

He was proud of the tone of voice he had managed. Reasonable. Curious. Calm.

Even so, Rosie was spinning her tea with her finger. She looked shyly, back up at him. Her eyes were so much like Mary’s when she knew she had done something a bit not good … 

He couldn’t stay angry with her.

“I found one onna floor?” she explained, pointing, “an’ I couldn't read all of the words? So Sam help me!”

John smiled, "helped you? That was nice of her."

Her dimples could win over Satan himself. He was sure of it.

“And these-?” he asked, then, indicating the rest … ?

.

“We wanted … we wanted to see if there were more?!” Rosie argued, yawning.

“More?” John asked, brow furrowed.

“More good ones!” she grinned, “like Sheryl’s!” She was taking her time, spinning her cup and slurping loudly if she did sip, “but we agreed,” she shook her head sagely, “nonna - none of the ones were like Sheryl’s.” 

.

“You getting sleepy?” John noticed how she was repeating her words. The way she only did when she lost track of a thought and was too tired to focus. 

Rosie nodded.

.

“How’s about … you drink up?” He pushed her tea closer, “while I read this letter then … ‘kay?”

Pulling it from his pocket, John looked it over again.

.            It was the one with the little love heart on it …? The one Rosie had tried to hand him on the very first day … nearly three weeks ago?

He remembered now …

Tossing it along with a handful of rainbow coloured envelopes back into the sitting room … and chuckled. It was his own damn fault!

“You really want me to read this one?” he asked, licking his lip as he took the plunge, and opened it.

.

She climbed up onto the counter. Watching eagerly as John unfolded the letter and laid it out. Eyes settling on what was clearly not what he had been expecting … 

Dear Doctor John Watson and Little Rosie Watson …

He read aloud. Pausing.

It was surprising to see their names … their real names … ?

Rosie was catching his eye, glittering as he halted at this curiosity alone. None of the other letters had said anything but ‘Sleepless and Daughter’ or ‘Sleepless and Seven’ as instructed by the radio station.

I know we're supposed to write 'Sleepless and Seven' or some such nonsense, under a misguided attempt at anonymity … however, the attempt seemed feeble, if not futile … You will see my return address on this correspondence, in case it is of interest to you … and I find no reason to avoid this transparency.

“Lovely,” he coughed, clearing his throat. He eyed the address on the back, “‘least we know where to send the fuzz when he turns out to be a stalker?”

“Da-ddy!” she chid, giggling.

.

He chuckled and began again:

(continued beneath cut)

Do not be alarmed … as your name was simple for me to deduce

Simple?! He paused, rolling the word ‘deduce’ on his tongue … 

Not a commonly used verb, certainly? Who talks like that … ? He shook his head. Definitely public school.

Ruling out the other seven that begin with ‘Wat’ including: Waterhouse, Waterman, Watanabe or Wattana … all more likely to be American or Asian-

“Hmm,” he nodded, “that's fair …”

-that left only a few choices … And your accent bore distinct hints of Scottish descent. It was not a guess.

.

“Cheeky bugger, isn’t he?” John mused aloud. 

He had no doubt in his mind already that this one was written by a man. Even if the typed font gave nothing away.

Rosie had her hands over her mouth to hide her big grin.

I should say first …

John started, and again stopped. Chuckling aloud this time, “but you didn’t!  You ‘DEDUCED’ my name, first! Prat!” 

John glared, teasingly, down at Rosie, “and you think this is my soulmate???”

She poked at him and he continued … 

.

“Aha!” he gloated, poking at the page, “there’s always the predictable bit!” He skimmed reading it … “da-da-da … da-da-da … ”

never written a letter like this before …  … unlikely to do so again …

"... We know, mate!” John rolled his eyes. Unbelievable.

But then he paused in his scanning. He turned and caught Rosie’s eye as he read the next line:

And as you are no doubt getting inundated … with piles of letters by now … 

He blinked:

you will be tired of reading this … already …

“How … the hell …?” John was dumbfounded. 

.

He gazed again over the stacks of letters laid out on the counter … and then back at this one … 

No one else had assumed he would get anything but their letter? And yet this man did? He narrowed his eyes and leaned in, reading more closely:

I regret … that the radio host interrupted you before you could tell us what invalided you out of the military prematurely … 

John raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t guess that one, then, eh genius?!” he mocked, rolling his shoulder, “Fantastic. Rosie! Get this …?!

… or how you ended up as a London GP. Which. You. Are!

John had punctuated every word. Simultaneously amazed and somewhat speechless at the audacity of this man's ‘deduction’. It was ridiculous! Ludicrous! Or …

“Who is this, Rosie? Do we know him???” he scanned through the next section, hovering with each point:

… You are also an excellent marksman …  And I deduce!!!

“That word again … hnngghh! … “ John made a gutteral sound:

… that despite your humility - you no doubt have many hidden and fascinating talents to be discovered.

“Well, ta! I most certainly do!” John was arguing with the writer, muttering something about three continents that Rosie couldn’t quite catch, and was laughing as he did so! Shaking his head in disbelief. This man!!!

… although your true talent is being wasted. 

“Oh please, DO tell!!!”

.

He wasn’t sure why he’d just shouted it to the echoing room at nearly midnight. But Rosie thought it was hilarious.

John cleared his throat and flattened the page back out as he scanned for where he had left off:

… although your true talent is being wasted …

He re-read,

… You are clearly a storyteller, and should be … writing …

John had to take a moment on that one.

He had always wanted to write.

.

He recalled Ella, his therapist, when he had first lost Mary. How she had encouraged him to start a blog. To write about anything and everything that happened to him. That it would help him to recover. And how he had argued back … 

Out of bitterness and resentment at the time:

            “Nothing happens to me.” 

.

The blog still sat untouched. 

.

“Daddy?” Rosie was by his side. He wasn’t sure how long he had stood there. Lost in thought?

He pulled her up to sit on the counter next to him, while he read, now thoroughly engrossed in the letter, the words … only barely whispered as he read and Rosie snuggled into his shoulder:

I have not looked up your records, although it would be incredibly simple to do so.

Bit presumptuous. John thought. He recalled the security status on his and Mary’s last mission records and wished the man the best of luck! 

Nor will I make any attempts to search your profile online … As I doubt you have an internet presence, under the circumstances … and something tells me it would not tell the whole story of who you are, even if you did.

He wasn’t wrong.

If you do not journal or keep a private blog, I would be incredibly surprised.

John stopped reading again and took a deep breath, exhaling, “… yeah … so am I. Maybe it’s time I started, eh kiddo?” He ruffled Rosie’s hair. Feeling her murmur against his chest.

All of this to say

John finished up,

if you are still reading this, and if you are still single this time next year - which I doubt …

He felt a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth … 

I would invite you to try an experiment … with me.

He leaned down and read it a bit more slowly. The feeling intimate. Almost daring.

… I will be waiting … at the top of Big Ben at midnight. Behind the clock. New Year's Eve … With a bottle of champagne … And two glasses … As I can tell you are a hopeless romantic …

A soft chuckle escaped at that call out.

… and I doubt you've seen the view from up there. There are few who have.

Rosie shifted and was sitting up. Rubbing her eyes. Watching him.

At the very least, I can promise it will be a memorable night for you … Even if you decide at the end of it that I am not ultimately your type, or even your preferred sexual orientation …

John nodded at the confirmation of his guess earlier.

… and I do not expect anything of you … but your company and a toast to ring in the new year.

Rosie was looking at him eagerly. 

John picked up the letter. Glancing at the sign-off and suddenly feeling self-conscious. There it was:

.

Sherlock Holmes

.

He decided to joke it off.

“Well … that is reassuring,” he nodded, folding the letter up. “Not going to let some posh twat snog me without my permission!” 

… but he had his fond eyes still fixed on the page …

.

"Ready for bed, kiddo?" 

She jumped into his arms, and he lowered her slowly to the ground to grab her floppy bunny and make her way upstairs … 

The last words of the letter playing through his head, over and over:

Do give brave little Watson my best regards. As I have no doubt she will grow up to be a game changer. Not unlike her father. Also, please inform her - if you have not already - that being single is not the worst crime. Not living your life to the fullest however, might be. Do take care, John. Sincerely, Sherlock Holmes

John lay awake.

Staring through the skylight at the stars above.

.          … His body ached.

.

He hadn't been sleeping well.

It wasn’t a lie ... when Rosie admitted to the entire country that he didn’t sleep at all. Some nights. It was a miracle he was functioning really … He was a doctor. He knew the long-term effects of going without sleep.

But at this point … He had been sleepless for so long … He could hardly remembered a time when he’d had a good night’s rest? The long silence wiping his memory of not just the nightmares … but also the dreams … 

‘They say that those who’ve loved once … are far more likely to love again.  John? … Do you think it’s possible that you could learn to love another?’

He could feel her words played again, as they rang out to millions of listeners on the radio. Along with the uncomfortable silence that had followed …

“It’s hard to imagine.” he’d replied a moment too late, by radio standards. His voice hoarse with emotion, “I’m not sure that anyone could take her place. And I wouldn’t want them to. I’d want to respect and love them for who they are … and to be honest - Dr. Irene - I’m not sure that I’m ready.”

John rolled over and took the letter from his nightstand. Staring at it. 

Blue in the soft glow of the moonlit room ...

.

Then pulled out his laptop … and began typing:

He stared at the words a moment. Double-checking the settings. It was still set to private. 

The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson January 29th: Something happened to me. I met someone. Or rather, I might meet someone next year. I don’t know. He sounds like a madman. He’s posh. A bit public school. And I know nothing about him really. Perhaps I'm mad to even entertain the idea? Because I am thinking about it. Guess that makes two of us then. Me and the madman.

Me and Sherlock Holmes.

No one but him could  stumble upon this page if they looked it up …

.        No one but him … could see.

.

He hit publish. 

.

Then he laid back and shut his eyes.

And somehow … 

.        Fell into a dream.

.

....... (to be continued)

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @mydogwatson @kettykika78 @mxster-jocale @cupidford @meetinginsamarra @peageetibbs @calaisreno @7-percent @john-smiths-jawline @anyway-kindness @swissmissing @inevitably-johnlocked @totallysilvergirl @kittenmadnessandtea @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @colourfulwatson @holmesianlove @kabubsmagga @peanitbear @copperplatebeech @tiverrr @pocketwatchofmycroft @mutedsilence @2smach @loki-lock @daltongraham @amyreadsandstresses @raina-at @discordantwords @gregorovitchworld @bluebellofbakerstreet @sarahthecoat @reveling-in-mayhem @masterofhounds @missdeliadili @mysterythecat @iamjustreading

@midgemao @ileenhaddockhawkins @storytellingdreamer @fuckcannibals @cortinita @a-clithridiate-in-my-heart @charlies-storybook @quickslvxr

janiesprings janetm74 tinchensblog myriath iwlyanmw youcouldcallmegus lilithcroft dragonnan stellacartography

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Over The Rainbow (2/5) - Logan

Seond part of the fic for the prompt submitted by @virgeandhis-pocket-protector :)

<- Previous | Next ->

----

Notes:

Logan! My favourite nerd, we love to see him, so do Roman and Patton :)))

I have no schedule for when this will be updated, currently it seems to be 'whenever i finish the next chapter'. I've just finished writing chapter 3 so.... yeah.

----

“Hey Roro your phone sounds like it’s gonna blow up, are you gonna get that?” Remus asked from his spot on top of the wardrobe, where he had been for the past three hours. 

Roman had returned from a class to find that Remus had managed to get up there somehow and he hadn’t gotten down since, all he’d done is thrown unpopped microwave popcorn at him at random intervals. 

“In a minute!” Roman called, “Just- working on something!”

They had been in college for almost two months by now, he’d known Patton for… almost all of that time. But they’d only started officially dating earlier that week. 

Before that, they had been considering staying just friends until they met the rest of their soulmates. After a lengthy conversation, though, they had come to the conclusion that it could take years for them to meet everyone, and they were both attracted to each other so… why shouldn’t they date?

It had taken a little bit to reassure Patton that they wouldn’t force any new soulmate they met into a relationship they weren’t comfortable with. Anyone else they met didn’t need to join the relationship right away, or at all, if they were uncomfortable - platonic soulmates did exist, after all. That choice would be up to the new soulmates they might meet.

The evening after that conversation, Roman had asked Patton out with a grandiose poem and a bouquet of flowers outside of his dorm room. Patton had laughed and taken the flowers, stood on tiptop to kiss Roman’s cheek - leaving him a blushing mess - before confessing that he thought the conversation earlier had been them asking each other out. 

Roman had been… safe to say, a little embarrassed, especially when Patton’s Roommate had called him a dork, but he’d still swept Patton up into an embrace and promised to take him on the best first date of his life.

So now Roman was both attempting to plan the Best Date Ever, and also make Patton a gift to celebrate! Because Roman loved making gifts and he’d had the idea for this specific painting for… quite a while.

He couldn’t stop now, though, even with his phone buzzing every two seconds, or the paint would dry and he’d have to start all over again, though apparently the universe had other plans. 

“Oh my god answer the fucking phone, Roro,” Remus yelled when he obviously got bored at the repetitive noise. Roman groaned, reaching over to grab his phone and hitting the call button on Patton’s number so that they could talk and he could keep painting at the same time. 

The phone wasn��t even ringing for two seconds before Patton answered.

“Roman!!” They practically yelled, Roman held the phone a little further from his ear, “Why’re you ignoring my messages!”

“I’m sorry Pat,” Roman said immediately, “I’m painting right now, can’t stop to text, what’s going on?”

“I met Green!” Patton yelled again, Roman nearly dropped the phone.

“ What?? ” Roman yelped, “Where? How? Can I talk to them? Details??”

“Well, um, his name’s Logan,” Patton said, Roman could tell they were smiling, “And he’s super cute-”

“I am not cute, Patton,” Roman heard a little more distantly on the other end of the line.

“Is he there?” Roman asked, gasping with excitement. 

“Yeah! We got coffee! I was trying to invite you, but…”

“Oh my god! Hi new soulmate!” Roman practically squealed. 

“You’re both very loud,” Logan said, before Patton gasped.

“We should video call!” Patton chirped, Roman was pretty sure he heard Logan sigh.

“I wonder if the colour blindness thing works over the phone,” Roman mused.

There was some shuffling from the other end of the line, before Logan spoke again, “I would like to test this theory, can we video call you?”

“Sure, gimme a second to put my phone in a good spot,” Roman said, before balancing his phone on top of the canvas he was painting on - he couldn’t risk Patton seeing the painting, even if it was precarious, “Okay, I’m good now!”

Patton seemed to fiddle with the phone for a second before the call was switched to a video one and Roman immediately brightened when Patton’s grinning - slightly flushed - face came into view. 

“Hi Ro!” Patton grinned, waving, “Logan’s opposite me, um, you wanna talk?”

“Yes, hello,” Logan said, “I would really like to test if the soulmate connection works over the call, now that you’ve given me the idea, what colour are your eyes?”

“Oh! Mine are amber!” Roman answered, “Yours are green, right?”

“Yes,” Logan said shortly, “Do you have something you know is green in your vicinity?”

Roman looked around, before his eyes found Remus, “Hey Re, you wearing your green shirt by chance?”

“...Yeah why?” Remus asked, kicking his feet against the dresser.

“We’re seeing if the soulmate connection works over video call.” Roman explains, Remus gasps and jumps down from the dresser, crashing on the ground. 

“You’ve really got greenie?” Remus gasped, rushing over to the call.

“Hi Remus,” Patton laughed, waving.

“Who is Remus?” Logan asked, sounding a little uneasy from out of frame.

“Oh my fuck is that him?” Remus yelled.

Roman rolled his eyes, pushing his brother wavy from the painting, “Yes, that’s him, Logan, Remus is my twin brother, we share a dorm.”

“Ah,” Logan nodded, “Alright, shall we try this experiment, then?”

“Hell yeah!” 

It turned out that yes, the soulmate connection did work over a video call. Logan’s eyes were a dark emerald green, framed similarly to Patton’s by glasses - though his were square where Patton’s were round. His hair was dark grey - to Roman, at least - and slicked back into a small bun with a few loose strands that hung over his face. His skin was pale and certainly made to look even paler by the navy blouse he wore. 

Patton had apparently met Logan in a joint seminar between a few different psychology branches. While Patton was minoring in child psychology, Logan was doing general psychology as minor to astrophysics (holy shit!). Patton had been confused about some of the material they were being taught and turned to the person next to them to ask for help only to realise they was seeing green for the first time. 

It had, apparently, taken all of their restraint not to burst into conversation right then and there - something Logan appreciated. Patton had just about cornered him afterwards and immediately asked if he’d wanted to get coffee. They’d talked for a little while as Patton had tried to get Roman’s attention until he had called and now here they are, of course.

Roman had enthusiastically insisted that Patton give Logan his phone number, and also that they go for a walk in the forest twenty minutes from campus so that Patton and he could get a look at how everything looked in colour. Logan had smiled and agreed with the caveat being he could tell them about as many nature facts as he wanted. 

Safe to say, Roman had been ecstatic about the idea. 

—

“This is an oak apple,” Logan said, picking something green and round-ish up from the detritus to show the pair, who were mostly marvelling at all the different shades of green around them. Roman would have to paint this too, at some point. 

“I didn’t know oak trees grew apples,” Patton said, coming over to look at the thing in Logan’s hand, “Can you eat them?”

Logan made a face, and now Roman was walking over, also interested, “They’re not… toxic, but I wouldn’t advise eating it, they apparently taste horrific, and they are created as a result of secretions from wasp larvae.”

Patton made a disgusted face, “Ew, that’s, so gross.”

“I need you to tell Remus about that sometime,” Roman said, chuckling, “It sounds like something he’d be interested in.”

“If you would like something to eat, Patton, I’m certain we’ll be able to find some edible forage here somewhere..”

Patton gasped, eyes sparkling with excitement, “Really? Like what?”

“Most likely berries if you’d like to eat it now,” Logan shrugged, “possibly mushrooms and I’m certain we could find some wild herbs around, if you cook?”

“I love cooking!” Patton gasped, “That’s so cool! I’ve never actually foraged for ingredients before.”

“It’s likely more difficult with a lack of colour vision,” Logan said, bending down to pick som leaves from a plant, “this is thyme, here, smell it.”

Patton held the leaves up to his nose, before grinning, “Herb-y!”

Smiling, Logan stood up and continued to lead them through the woods until Roman spotted a berry plant and gasped, walking over. 

“Hey! Logan! Can we eat these?” He called over, Logan turned, before nodding. 

“Go ahead, those are blackberries,” Logan explained, “Make sure to check them for bugs before you eat them, though, and mind the thorns.”

“Oh! Blackberries!” Roman grinned, picking a small handful before walking back over and offering them to the other two. Logan took one, inspected it and put it in his mouth. Patton copied him, grinning the entire time. 

Fifteen minutes later, they came to a small clearing, bathed in afternoon sun. Roman had finished off the blackberries and Patton’s bag was full of different fresh herbs and a couple of edible mushrooms and berries. 

“Shall we sit down in this clearing for a short while before beginning to make our way back to campus?” Logan suggested.

“Good idea,” Roman smiled, sitting cross legged on the grass, quickly followed by Patton and then Logan - who laid out his jacket to sit down on first. 

A few minutes passed in silence, before Patton spoke up almost shyly, “So.. this has been really nice.”

Roman grinned, “I agree! I’ve been having a lot of fun with the both of you!”

“Admittedly it has been nice for me to be able to share my knowledge with people who are interested.” Logan nodded.

“Well I was… wondering,” Patton said, looking specifically to Logan, “I already told you that me and Roman are dating, right?”

“Indeed,” Logan nodded. 

“Well - obviously only if Ro agrees, but I think that I would be really happy if maybe you’d like to… y’know… also be part of the relationship?” Patton asked, face steadily growing more red.

“...Roman?” Logan asked, looking over at Roman, who was staring in surprise, “Your thoughts? If you feel you need more time to get to know me before I accept Patton’s offer that is entirely reasonable - we only met a few days ago, after all.”

Roman thought for a second, frowning, “You have to meet my brother, if he’s chill with you it’s a yes from me - I’m sure he will, you just have to tell him kinda gross facts, but… I have to make sure.”

He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when Logan smiled. He knew it was probably a little weird to get approval of his dates from his brother, but the one time he hadn’t it had gone… horribly wrong. 

“I will have gross facts prepared in advance,” Logan reassured, making Patton giggle. Roman couldn’t help but grin - he’s pretty certain this is good. He’s found two of his soulmates now, he couldn’t wait to meet the others. 

----

tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti

| Next -> |

[angelicizedeve]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

featuring: itto x gn!reader

synopsis: you start working at a new flower shop and love it more than you should

✎ eve’s notes: so...i've never really done a fanfic that's in this style, as in, it's like a story. i usually do bullet points and drabbles but not this time! so hopefully it's decent lmao. btw i probably have some grammatical errors-

you peered at yourself in the slightly dirty glass of the flower shop one last time, making sure that you looked good. the flower shop was quite popular, and was owned by a friendly young man. he was really kind during the interview when you applied, so you weren't too nervous. you smoothed your skirt down, and with a deep breath, you pushed open the door to the shop.

you’d been there many times, but still, it never failed to amaze you in how magical it looked. stained-glass windows lined the walls, casting rainbows on the many plants on shelves everywhere. butterfly cutouts hung from the ceiling, along with flowering vines. it was like a fairy oasis. “hey, you must be [name]!” you heard a cheerful and loud voice exclaim. your eyes were met with a tall, muscular man with long, fluffy grey-white hair tied back. he wore a colourful apron with a bunch of pins and a name tag that read, “itto!” with a smiley face. you smiled. 

“yup! that’s me.”

“great! so, come with me and i’ll get you set up.”

you followed your superior, and he handed you an identical apron and explained what you had to do. your main job was cashier, but you’d also have to water some of the plants and put some sprouts into planters. easy enough!

throughout the day, itto and you worked amazingly well together. you two had fun conversations as you did your work, and itto introduced you to each customer. he knew all of them on a first name basis and what their favourite flowers were. you were amazed at how it seemed as if he was close friends with every single one of them. it was something you’d try to work on throughout your time working at the shop.

itto glanced up from a pile of paperwork he was filling out, seeing you walking out of the store. you’d completed your first shift there, and probably had had the most fun possible on a job.

“oh, [name]! wait up!”

itto walked around the counter and handed you a white rose. “here,” he said with a big smile.

“aw, thanks!” you said, admiring the flower. 

“haha, no problem. and, uh, thanks for...actually showing up today.” itto rubbed the back of his neck. “you have no idea how many people i hire that don’t even bother to come to their shifts. it’s hard, managing a whole store on your own, ya know?”

you gave a soft, sympathetic smile. “yeah, must be hard. but i’m always here if you need me to help you with stuff.” and with that, you headed home. 

after your amazing first shift, you eagerly accepted every other one that itto asked you to work. unlike it is for most people, work was the highlight of your day. you were surrounded by sweet customers, fragrant flowers, and the best co-worker. speaking of your coworker, itto never failed to give you a flower at the end of your shift. sometimes if you had an extra busy week, he’d throw in some snacks. you thought it was the sweetest thing ever, and always made sure to thank him &lt;3. 

eventually, your birthday rolled around. you expected a simple “happy birthday”, but itto surprised you by inviting you to dinner with him! how sweet, right? it was just such a kind gesture.

a very..kind..gesture.

it-

no it couldn’t be..

was itto asking you out on a date?

the thought put butterflies in your stomach and made your face grow warm. you knew that you probably were just going crazy, but still. you put on a fancy outfit, did your hair nice, and then hurried over to the restaurant. you were completely surprised to find itto standing outside, well dressed and a beautiful flower bouquet in hand.

“oh! [name]! i was thinking you wouldn’t show up!” he said with a nervous laugh. “these are for you.” itto handed you a gorgeous bunch of white roses, just like the one he gave you on your first day.

“oh! thank you so much!”

itto smiled, and opened the door to the restaurant for you. “shall we?”

the dinner went better than you imagined! you had a blast talking and laughing with your coworker. when you arrived home, which was quite late at night, you took the flowers out of the wrapping to put into a vase of water.

hm, that’s strange. there’s a note…

“so i did some research, and apparently roses represent love, so i got a bouquet of them since that’s what i feel about you.

-itto <;3”

you blinked at the words messily written on the small piece of paper, reading them over and over again. it was a dream come true. 

[profoundbondfanfic]

Another batch of our favorite aro/ace/demi fics!

Part 7

We're the New Romantics by almaasi [Teen, 8K, Aro!Cas]

“He’s so pretentious.” “Who is?” “Castiel.” Dean sneered as he said the name. “Look at him. He only brought one bag, and it’s tiny. And orange.” “Maybe he doesn’t like carrying a lot of stuff,” Charlie said, shouldering her own rainbow-coloured weekender bag, leading Dean out of the crowd and towards the picnic benches. “Gifted-and-Talented Summer Camp is only four days. A change of clothes and a toothbrush, that’s all most people need.” “What about when he sleeps? Doesn’t he at least need a pair of jammies? And that freaking nose ring. Seriously, he looks like a bull. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him.”

The Graveyard Shift by PurgatoryJar & riseofthefallenone [Explicit, 620K, Demi!Cas]

Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

hold me (just for tonight) by kitmistry [Teen, 1,5K, Ace!Cas]

Parties are always fun, and they come with the best tips.

Moonflower by K_K_TiBal [Teen, 18K, Ace!Cas]

Castiel is not a very good witch. He's just not. He struggles with potions, illusions, divination - everything that makes a witch respectable, and his familiar - Dean - definitely deserves better than him. When Dean falls under a curse that seems to affect his shape-shifting abilities, Castiel and Dean begin to run out of money, and Castiel decides the best thing they can do is go after a rare Moonflower to help get themselves back on their feet. The journey could be dangerous, especially considering Castiel's less-than-ideal abilities and Dean's curse, but with a little luck, it will all be worth it in the end.

Easy by mnwood [General, 911, Aro!Dean]

When Cas comes back from the Empty, it takes Dean some time to adjust.

Coming to Terms by Unforth [Explicit, 169K, Aro!Dean]

Naomi Novak has laid out her son's entire life. Castiel Novak-Shurley must get a great education, focus on business, ignore frivolous things, attend Harvard Business School, become an investment banker at International Angel Deposit Bank, maintain his virtue, marry a proper beta or omega, and make lots of alpha babies. Even when fitting her expectations was difficult for him, Castiel has done his best to comply. Until now. His mother is arranging a marriage for him - he doesn't know to whom, but he knows it's happening, and soon - and before he ties the knot (figuratively and literally) Castiel wants to have an experience all his own: he wants to bottom for an alpha. Nervous, terrified, Castiel goes to Palmeton’s red light district and hires Jensen, a gorgeous young alpha prostitute who smells like fresh-cut grass and sunshine and lemonade. With Jensen, Castiel finds the courage to ask for what he wants. Being knotted is amazing. Castiel’s not an omega, but…but being with Jensen - who's real name turns out to be Dean - is everything Castiel has dreamed of. And now he has to figure out: how is he supposed to go the rest of his life without experiencing that again?

First and Only by almaasi [Explicit, 35K, Aro&Demi!Cas]

Single bachelor Dean bets he can have sex more times within a calendar year than his happily-married brother. But when Castiel – Dean’s roommate, best friend, and total virgin – asks Dean to be his First, Dean’s plan to bed numerous strangers goes up in smoke. Over the weeks, then the months, Cas becomes his go-to guy. His “fuck buddy”, if you will. But that doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t feel right. Dean was Cas’ First, but now he wants to be Cas’ Only. Now he’s gotta figure out how the heck to court a guy he’s successfully wooed a hundred times already.

[kimium]

(Fic Review Ask!) I, R, Y

(From this ask HERE)

Thanks for the ask, @shreedle!! Let's get started!!!

9. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

Without a doubt my SDR2 fic, Wooden Shrine was the most satisfying to finish writing. The irony of the fic, that I wanted to write shorter scenes so it would be faster to write, backfired on me HARD. I had so many moments where the story hit a snag and I sat for weeks going "What am I going to do?"

However, despite that this fic is one that I hold very near and dear to my heart. I am very happy with how it turned out. I love writing supernatural/human Komahina with all my heart!

18. Share an excerpt from your favourite scene

Oh! There are so many, but I'll give it to my Katekyo Hitman Reborn! fic, Delivery.

"Shouichi took a second to take in the slightly widened lavender eyes, the stark white hair, and white clothing that nearly burned Shouichi’s eyes. A marshmallow was pinched between long fingers, caught mid journey to his mouth. At his elbow was an open bag, half eaten.

Instantly everyone yelped and stood, hands flying into the insides of their jackets, a few rings dancing rainbow colours. Kikyo already had his box weapon out, ready to maim Shouichi in no doubt some brutal, gruesome way. At least security here was an improvement. A small silver lining under the heavy cloud of over confidence the rest of the building had displayed.

Holding his tongue, now really wasn’t the time for Shouichi to critique Byakuran’s security, he strode further into the room, beelining for Byakuran. More shouts filled the space followed by a bang and several colourful flashes hurdling towards him. A flash of orange danced across the corner of Shouichi’s eyes and heat, thick and sweet, filled his lungs, curling like chains with each breath he took towards Byakuran.

When he finally was within arm’s reach, Shouichi let go of his suitcase, praying no one fried his contents, and opened his arms. Tilting his head, Shouichi warmly smiled.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” he said."

I love this scene for so many reasons. Shouichi deciding to flip the narrative on its head and willingly go to Byakuran was an idea I'd had for years. I cannot tell you how long I'd dreamt/fantasized about writing this scene. Next, regardless of the changes/choices I made, the core image of Shouichi waltzing into a highly secure meeting only to have his first words to Byakuran in this timeline be "Hi honey, I'm home"??? Absolutely perfect. It's everything I'd always wanted for the idea.

25. What's something you want to write in 2023?

Already answered in this ask reply HERE.

[brooklynislandgirl]

[ rom!candidates ] It takes near all her self control not to bubble like a wee school lass when she finally gets Beth alone. Away from the men and hiding away in the kitchen. Desperate almost to hear all the juicy details. "So...how did t'date go? Best 'ave been a gentlemen t'whole toi'me."

Adventures in Matchmaking || Accepting

Her fingertips flutter against the rim of her tea cup. As soon as Caity wove her arms through Beth's and politely excused themselves from mixed company, she knew what the interrogation was going to be about even if she couldn't be sure what the first questions were going to be worded. Caity then dragged it out further by insisting on tea first, as is only right, as is only polite and so Beth seated herself at the kitchen table. She didn't inspect her nails, she didn't fuss with her hair. If anything, she sits up a little straighter and mentally pours over the date in question. He'd arrived at the door in a suit, one that was a little better tailored than the kind he wore for work ~when said work didn't call for denim and leather, but what Mr Sweeney did for a living wasn't really her concern, and she certainly had no place to judge his employees by~ and if anything, she'd call the offered smile a shy one. In the crook of an arm longer and better muscled than one of her own legs he'd held a smattering of treasures: a bottle of her favourite wine {hinted at by Caity herself}, a box of chocolates with macadamia nuts {likely Luka's advice, as Lorcan had been uncharacteristically dour over the whole situation} and of course, the obligatory bouquet of flowers. This, this she thinks was his own choice. They were not wrapped nor artistically arranged. They didn't come in a long box wrapped in ribbons, each of the dozen red blooms perfectly grown and trimmed. No, they were a handful of wild flowers, a pastel rainbow of hues, some with the roots still attached. Where he'd plucked them from she has no idea but there is something appealing about it. She invited him in. Specifically because Andy wasn't home and therefor wouldn't make a fuss over well. Over any of it. He tells her she has a lovely home and she thanks him. Offers him a seat on the sofa while she takes the flowers into the kitchen in search of a vase. She trims the stems and adds three tablespoons of sugar and two of white vinegar; the sugar to feed them and the vinegar to keep rot from infecting. She offered him a drink, either the wine or a selection of her brother's single malts, and politely he declined. He's driving, after all. She cannot honestly remember where they went or what they ordered; Will held the door open for her and helped her with her coat, her seat. She thinks she had salmon, she couldn't say what he did. Instead she remembers every smile and crinkle at the corners of his eyes. The stories he told about his childhood and how different America was comparatively. How his fingers brushed against her between reaching for the bread which she is sure was simply a pretense but his fingers are surprisingly warm and soft against her own. She remembers laughing a couple of times and feeling lightheaded which was not a byproduct of the house wine. He escorts her, yes, one hand at the small of her back and one at her elbow back to the car and when they pick up coffee he asks if she'd like to see the harbour lights. How did he even know? Then when the night is close to slipping into the comfortable colours of morning, he brings her back and gives her a hug at the door. No expectation of a kiss, or anything even more personal. And for the first time in her life, Beth isn't sure if she's thankful for the respite, or if she's somehow disappointed, a thing that is newer than being out alone with a man who isn't blood-related to her.

She invites him to stay, and while he could easily have made something of that, he's grateful for the guestroom. Which is completely tidy and shows no trace of use after he's awake, except the ghost of his aftershave. And Beth tells all of this to Caity, word for word, including her own personal thoughts. And the fact that she hasn't heard from him since, at least until tonight, and the soft eyes he makes at her while still managing to attend Mr Sweeney. "So, I dunno…wha' f' do, really. Mebbe I was a bad date?"