late rainy nights

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Wildflower.

Pairing: Flower Shop AU! Asagiri Gen x Reader 

Word Count: 1,798

Summary: Gen runs a flower shop; Y/N comes in to buy some flowers and can’t help but be drawn in by his mischievous smile. They find themselves coming in more often than they truly need flowers.

Warnings: None that I can think of, its pretty wholesome.

A/N: Important to note that I already posted this on AO3 a little over a week ago, read it here! I plan on coming back to this blog and doing more, I think limiting myself to just slashers kind of set me up for failure tbh. I’m going to expand to a few animes/mangas I like, but there will be a lot of villain/slasher content on this blog still!! If you want to unfollow I totally get it!! I’ll post some updated rules later tonight!

              Spring had finally arrived and brought with it all the best parts of the year. The weather was pleasant when you had left the house that morning, electing to spend your day off taking a walk around the town that you had moved to only weeks ago. There was so much you wanted to see, but the busyness that comes with moving and starting a new job had left you unable to experience the town you now called home. A cool breeze brushed past you as you stepped out, it was cool, and the sky was dotted with clouds. Taking a deep breath in, you watched as leaves and freshly bloomed flower petals floated in the air, stepping forward, you allowed the wind to carry you along with them down the street, towards your destination.

              There were many small buildings that lined the streets of the town: boutiques, family run restaurants and cafes, even a little flower shop that seemed to catch your eye every time you passed on your way to and from work. You had wanted to visit all the shops in the area, help support the local businesses and grow acquainted with the flow of people in town. Unfortunately, over the weeks that had passed since your arrival, you had only managed to visit the nearest grocery store. You decided that you would make the most out of the day, visit as many places as you could, and treat yourself while you were at it.

              The first store you had wandered into had not been too special, it was a small clothing boutique that had clearly recently stocked for the spring weather that was now upon you. Nothing in particular caught your eye. A bookstore was next, everything they sold was second hand, and you ended up making out like a bandit. This continued for a few hours, weaving in and out of stores, slowly accumulating more bags as things caught your interest. Eventually, you had worked up enough of an appetite to decide to stop in one of the cafes in town. Purchasing yourself a small meal and a beverage, you finally took notice of just how sore your feet had gotten from all the walking you had been doing. As you took a seat at one of the tables, you decided that you should be heading home soon, and after you finished your meal you would only allow yourself to visit one more shop.

              It had not been a difficult choice in the slightest. You had been wanting to visit the cute little flower shop that you seemed to pass every day, and besides it was spring, what better time to get something floral to liven up your apartment! And like that, your excitement began to build again. You quickly finished your food, threw out your garbage, grabbed your bags and, once again, you were off down the street.

              The flower shop was adorable, white walls were accented by the colorful bouquets sitting in the window display, vines climbed their ways up towards the roof, and what appeared to be a hand painted sign sat above the door. As you entered, a soft bell chimed from above you and you stepped into the warm light. You were the only person in the store it seemed, with not even an employee sat behind the counter to greet you. Yet the store was still inviting, warm light cast over the array of blooming flowers, quite a few of which you had never even seen before. It smelled heavenly as you approached the first display to the right of the door.

              Lost in thought and unsure of what to purchase, minutes had passed and you hadn’t even noticed the man that had now come to stand behind you, a nearly mischievous grin on his face and his arms crossed in front of him.

“Hello,” the man’s voice startled you, causing you to jump and whip around to face him. A chuckle left his lips as his grin seemed to widen even further. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”.

“No,” you responded, “just something for my counter”.

The man nodded his head and appeared to get lost in thought for a moment. You were curious about him, he was not particularly tall, probably around 5’6 or 5’7, he was slim, and had dark lashes that brought out his gray eyes beautifully. What had really struck you about his appearance was his hair. You could only think of describing it as an asymmetrical bowl cut, with one side having a long piece that reached his chin. The cut wasn’t the only interesting thing about his hair, it was split down the middle, half black and half white, yet it didn’t seem like it had been dyed that way, the parting was too indistinct to seem purposeful.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he brought his eyes up to meet your gaze, “you must be new.”

“I just moved here a few weeks ago, I haven’t had the time to explore until now.”

              The man hummed at your response, turning his head away from you again. He wandered around the store for a moment before coming to a stop in front of a display of yellow flowers, picking up a bundle, he turned on his heel and approached you, grin still present on his face.

“These,” he then shoved the bouquet into your hands and stepped back, “they’ll look lovely on your counter, I’m sure.” As you held the flowers, you recognized them as yellow daffodils, and smiled back at the man before nodding your head and walking over to register with him.

              He had been right, they did look lovely on your counter. Every time you spotted them out of the corner of your eye, you found your thoughts drifting back to that interesting man. From that point on, you decided you would go back to the store every week, once the flowers started wilting, for a new bouquet.

              The first week you came back, man had greeted you with that same grin, and asked you what you were looking for this time.

              “Dealer’s choice!” You had responded, hoping your excitement might cover up your nervousness. This response seemed to please him, as he hummed in agreement and began to wander around the flower shop once again. This time he came to a stop in front of a display of chrysanthemums, picking up a bouquet of pink ones, he then returned to you and placed them in your hands, before staring at you with an expectant look.

              “Well?” his gaze shifted from your eyes to the flowers and then back up.

              “They’re beautiful!” You could have sworn you saw a bit of pink tint his cheeks before he turned and made his way to the counter.

              This tradition continued for months; you had never missed a week. Always stepping into the store with a warm smile, excited to see what the man would pick next. You had eventually learned that his name was Gen, and as the weeks passed, found yourself staying longer with each visit. Your conversations grew from short interactions about different kinds of flowers to what was going on in your lives and personal troubles. Gen began to feel like an old friend, always willing to listen and offer up his advice, which you felt would sometimes get you into more trouble than you were in to begin with, but he had not led you astray yet. He even began to open up about his own life, you had hoped that it would quell your curiosity, but taking in information about him only led to wanting to know more. Feelings had bubbled to the surface, and you liked Gen more than you felt comfortable admitting. Maybe even loved him. For the time being, you had decided to suppress the feelings and force your current friendship to be enough to satisfy you.

              It was a Tuesday in late summer when, upon stepping into the store, you found Gen sat behind the counter, a bouquet already in hand and a bit of red spread across his face. He stood abruptly, the stool he had sat on let out a shrill squeak, and quickly made his way over to hand you a bouquet of small yellow flowers mixed in with larger white ones. His smile seemed less mischievous and more genuine today.

              “Do you know much about flower language?” he asked as he took a step back. You shook your head.

“You should really look into it. Those are gardenias with yellow acacia.” Before you could ask him anything, he shifted the conversation elsewhere. This visit had been your longest yet, you had entered at midday and did not leave until he had begun to close up for the night. Though it had been hours, you never once found yourself bored, and when it was time to leave, you even felt a bit disappointed. When he said goodbye to you that night, he seemed different, maybe a bit nervous. You tried not to focus on it as you made your way home.

It was only when you crawled into bed later, laying there half asleep, that you remembered he had told you to look into flower language. You forced yourself to sit up, ignoring your exhaustion, and grabbed your phone from your nightstand. When you saw the results that appeared after looking up the contents of the newest bouquet he had picked out for you, you felt your heart clench in your chest and heat rise to your face. You were giddy, like you were in middle school again and your crush had just acknowledged you for the first time. Falling asleep that night proved to be rather difficult as excitement coursed through your veins, you were going back tomorrow.

              Morning came slower than you hoped, and you were out of bed as soon as the sunlight shined through your window and onto your pillow. You had to practically force yourself to slow down and wait until you knew Gen would be at the shop, time had never passed more slowly.

              When you eventually did set out, you found your quick paced walk evolving into a near run. You had to see him. You had practically thrown the door to the shop open, the small bell ringing out into the air. This had startled Gen from his place at one of the displays, where he stood setting out freshly prepared arrangements of various colors. He had whipped around, face looking unlike anything you had ever seen on him before. He seemed scared, but hopeful.

              After taking a moment to catch your breath, you met his gaze. A smile crawled its way up your face,

              “I love you too.”

The Painted Boy

Chapter One || Next Chapter || AO3

+++++++++++

Percy was learning waterbending.

He knew his mom said he had to be careful, and he didn’t think she wanted him to use it much, but he had to! He was a waterbender!

It’s just like Katara, having to hide her bending to protect herself and her home. He could do the same, but he would also train.

After all, unlike Katara, he had easy access to a master. Katara herself.

He may have maybe kinda snuck money from Gabe.

But he’d been careful! He’d only taken a few bills, a little at a time, snuck a few from his gambling buddies too. He was smart, like Katara was with her gambling in that episode with Toph.

You’ve gotta be smart and distract them. He’d bring them beers and food, then sneak a few bills when they weren’t looking.

In the end he got enough money to buy the complete Avatar: The Last Airbender video set. And one of the neighbors gave him their old video player, a small one, they got a better one and didn’t need it anymore.

Now he had his teacher, which meant he could learn how to bend better.

First thing he had to do was take notes, that’s what all the teachers said.

He would figure out what he could do, everything according to Katara, then work on doing it.

Water was his new favorite drink, easy to carefully practice moving the water in the cup.

Watching the show he figured out all the little things to do, small bits of waterbending he could practice.

Lift the water, manipulate it, spin it, make shapes, see how far he can push it. He practiced freezing the water like Katara could, making ice cubes. He started to practice changing the ice cubes shapes.

He frowned watching the videos, they have to be really quick to do some of it, maybe he should practice running?

And he needs to learn how to pull water out of the air and plants like Katara learned from the creepy old lady who forced her to learn blood bending.

He wanted to learn blood bending, he knows it’s dangerous, but if he uses it like Katara, for the bad people, then it should be fine.

Of course, in the middle of all his interesting research and learning and practicing, he had to finish the summer assignments, and then… He was gonna have school again soon.

++++++++++++++++++++

The teachers just didn’t appreciate his smarts. He knows he’s smart, he’s learning from Katara really well!

He could make the water form any shape he wants now, and when he showers he practices controlling the moving water. He’s doing good!

School was just boring! How was he supposed to pay attention to geography? He could be practicing making a water whip instead!

He scowled, it’s not his fault that the words didn’t work, he couldn’t read it when it was gibberish. He kicked a rock on the playground, he hates school.

Ugh, Katara was smart though, she was amazing and smart, he wanted to be smart! He was trying. He swallowed back the tears, ignoring the burning in his eyes.

He was trying so hard.

++++++++++++++++++++

Percy huffed, glaring at the paper in front of him.

He had to really work hard to not let the numbers float around and mix everything up. Why did they have to be so close together? He carefully printed the work, and the answer in careful bold writing.

He was going to be an amazing waterbender, and to really be amazing he had to be smart too. Mom said that waterbender’s all work hard in school, and in the northern water tribe that seems true. It’s just annoying, he bet they didn’t have dyslexia like him, and they got to do stuff with their hands! That’s so much easier!

He turned in his test then sat back down to wait for the bell to ring.

He was determined to get at least a B in every subject this year. He would!

+++++++++++++++++++

Practicing his waterbending was hard. His mom always got so worried when she saw him practicing, but there was only so much he could do hiding in his room with a glass of water, or in the shower. He needed more space, a body of water where he could actually work at his bending.

He could do the little water whip, he could control the shape of the water, turn it to ice and back, coat his hands in it, pull little bits out of the air, dry himself off with a flick of his wrist, and stop the shower water in mid-air.

But he wanted to practice the big things!

He wanted to be able to make the octopus! Or make a big wave! Or those spirals of water, or the whips that cover her arms, or the shield, or stop the rain… There was so much he wanted to do, and he couldn’t cause he had to keep it hidden.

He didn’t like it, but he didn’t want to upset his mom.

He would just have to find someplace that no one would notice him waterbending.

The pool? He could make it look like splashes there, or he could try to go the rivers, but they’re dirty… Well, he could go to them and practice waterbending to clean them?

There’s an idea!

Oh, and he should totally keep a water-bottle with him at all times. Just in case of an emergency.

++++++++++++

Cleaning the river was going strangely.

He swears he saw two weird figures in the water. One had wolfish features and a seal-like body. It was kinda scary. Especially his glowing green eyes. The other wore rags and seaweed with a big beard. His appearance wasn’t as scary, but his eyes were angrier.

Neither of the two guys spoke to Percy mind you, and he’d only caught glimpses of them. But they kept reappearing,

He just focused on cleaning the water one day of bending practice at a time.

+++++++++++

Percy learned that the fish could talk. Or maybe he could just understand him?

There wasn’t much in the rivers, not many fish or other animals. But there were some. And the one’s there talked to each other, and when he commented on one of their conversations, they started talking to him.

He learned a lot about what happened nearby.

They also made him more determined to clean the river, the fish were thankful.

+++++++++++

It only took Percy three weeks to get the octopus technique down… roughly. It wasn’t perfect, but he was getting it.

The wave tricks were harder, more water to manipulate.

But at least he was getting better at… fine control?

That’s what that wolf-seal guy had mumbled before disappearing again.

Percy guesses that’s good, so he tried to practice it more.

Cleaning the river was hard though. He was starting to try to lift the water and filter all the bad stuff out onto the shore.

He didn’t quite get it to work right, too much bad stuff was going back into the river, but he was slowly figuring it out.

The more he worked, the easier it seemed to be too!

Like how Katara went from a little bit of rain stopping to making a huge dome!

He could do this!

Plus, he thinks that the weird scary guys in the water were happy, they didn’t glare so much anymore.

++++++++++++

Percy was only able to go to the rivers so much because mom worked late.

He tended to find bits of money in the trash and told Gabe he was working to ‘earn his keep’. It made Gabe happy, and he would give little bits of the money to Gabe. So Gabe didn’t tell mom.

He felt bad for lying, but he needed to get better! Waterbending was a part of him!

He wanted to do his best, to do as good as Katara.

++++++++++++++

It was getting colder now. Winter was coming.

Percy was determined to not be bothered by it. Katara wasn’t, she could control the ice and snow.

Though she did wear a jacket…

Percy used the money he found in the river (after cleaning it with his super cool waterbender powers) to buy a waterproof warm jacket.

There, that fixes that problem.

++++++++++++++

There was a new figure in the river.

It didn’t approach him, but also didn’t disappear when he looked at it, not like the scary ones.

This one was green. As in, his skin was green. His hair was black. He looked a lot neater than the scary ones, like clean neater. With pearls and cool armor. And you know, two fish tails. He was a mermaid, or merman, Percy guessed, but with two tails.

Did all mermaids have two tails and humans just got it wrong? Percy would have to ask Elli the Eel (he still couldn’t believe that was actually the Eel’s name).

But the fancy merman stayed while Percy was there, too far out for Percy to approach (he hadn’t managed to figure how to move on water like in avatar, his ice wasn’t thick enough yet). Percy decided to ignore him for now, maybe he wouldn’t come back?

Percy cleaned the river more, he also managed to get the rising wave trick (he’d named it himself!) down at last. He was happy.

+++++++++++++++

The merman came back.

It was about a good three months of irregular appearances (he was learning big words! He’d got an audio tape of some cool stories to listen too while cleaning the river. Audio tapes were easier then reading.) from the merman before he was approached.

It was also February, and very much cold now.

He’d managed to get his ice float down now, it was thick enough to sit on, and he was starting to get good at maneuvering it. Hopefully he’d still be able to make it when it was warm.

The merman approached him when he was trying to pull up a partly buried piece of trash.

Percy’s little ice float dipped suddenly.

“What are you doing?”

Percy blinked, turning to the voice, and the cause of the dip.

The merman had come up to him, was leaning on the ice float.

“Um, I’m trying to clean the river?”

The merman studied him.

“Why?”

Percy frowned, thinking.

“I just wanted to practice waterbending, but the river’s really dirty and it’s not nice so… I just thought… I just thought I’d try to clean it?”

The merman studied him. Percy felt like he was being judged.

“Waterbending?”

Percy faltered, he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it. But this is a merman, that’s not the same is it? Of course, he probably just calls it something different. This wouldn’t be disobeying mom, right?

“You know, controlling the water… It’s called waterbending in the…” Well now he felt like it was childish but, “In the TV show avatar. And it’s basically what I do so…”

The merman hummed, “In the winter?”

“Well, it’s not gonna get cleaner just because the weather is colder. If I want to clean it then I’ll have to work even when it’s cold!”

The merman hummed again, “What’s your name?”

Percy shifted on his ice floe, “Percy, Percy Jackson.”

The merman nodded.

“What’s yours?”

He blinked, studying Percy again.

“…Triton.”

Percy smiled brilliantly, “Nice to meet you Triton!”

The merman nodded, still studying Percy intently.

“Nice to meet you as well… Percy.”

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instant Markt market Grad degree besiedeln populate küken chick liebe dear Feind enemy antworten reply Getränk drink auftreten occur Unterstützung support Rede speech Natur nature Angebot range Dampf steam Bewegung motion Weg path Flüssigkeit liquid protokollieren log gemeint meant Quotient quotient Gebiss teeth Schale shell Hals neck Sauerstoff oxygen Zucker sugar Tod death ziemlich pretty Geschicklichkeit skill Frauen women Saison season Lösung solution Magnet magnet Silber silver danken thank Zweig branch Spiel match Suffix suffix insbesondere especially Feige fig ängstlich afraid riesig huge Schwester sister Stahl steel diskutieren discuss vorwärts forward ähnlich similar führen guide Erfahrung experience Partitur score apfel apple gekauft bought geführt led Tonhöhe pitch Mantel coat Masse mass Karte card Band band Seil rope Rutsch slip gewinnen win träumen dream Abend evening Zustand condition Futtermittel feed Werkzeug tool gesamt total Basis basic Geruch smell Tal valley noch nor doppelt double Sitz seat fortsetzen continue Block block Tabelle chart Hut hat verkaufen sell Erfolg success Firma company subtrahieren subtract Veranstaltung event besondere particular viel deal schwimmen swim Begriff term Gegenteil opposite Frau wife Schuh shoe Schulter shoulder Verbreitung spread arrangieren arrange Lager camp erfinden invent Baumwolle cotton geboren born bestimmen determine Quart quart neun nine Lastwagen truck Lärm noise Ebene level Chance chance sammeln gather Geschäft shop Stretch stretch werfen throw Glanz shine Immobilien property Spalte column Molekül molecule wählen select falsch wrong grau gray Wiederholung repeat erfordern require breit broad vorbereiten prepare Salz salt Nase nose mehreren plural Zorn anger Anspruch claim Kontinent continent

In Love With Another Man : A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Word Count: 2,588 (Whew, Did Not Expect To Write That Much)

Warnings: Slight Smut .. If You Can Call It That, Thats About It I Believe 

Hey Guys . I’m Back With Another Imagine . I Honestly Came Up With The Idea For This In Like 2.5 Seconds While Listening To Jasmine Sullivan’s “In Love With Another Man” . (Lyrics Are Italicized) But Before I Get Into It I Just Want To Take The Chance To Shoutout And Thank @xxwritemeastoryxx And @nmikaelsonimagines .. These Two Are Really An Inspiration For Me And Has Really Encouraged My Writing And I Hope To One Day Be As Good As You All Are . x Sorry For Any Mistakes x .

Don’t Underestimate The Allure Of Darkness. Even The Purest Of Hearts Are Drawn To It.

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And I Know That I Should Throw The Towel In, But Baby It’s Not, Not That Easy.

You Had A Wonderful Life, Perfect Even. At Least You’d Like To Think So. You Were 23 Years Old Living In New Orleans. Had A Nice Job, Working Part Time At This Boutique In The French Quarter And You Had This Amazing Boyfriend Whom You’d Been With For About 5 Years Now. When You Weren’t Working At The Boutique You Were Out Taking Pictures. Because Working At The Boutique Wasn’t Something You Planned On Doing The Rest Of Your Life, You Wanted To Be A Photographer , You Wanted Your Pictures To Be In Everyone’s Homes And You Wanted To Be The One Everyone Came To When They Needed Photo Shoots Done. And Until Then Working A Part Time Job On The Side Was Okay Until You Got To Where You Needed To Be. So Maybe You’re Life Wasn’t Perfect.. But It Was Perfect Enough For You. You Were Content

Until You Saw Him

You Had Been In Town On One Of Your Days Off Taking In The Sun, And Everything Around. You Had Your Camera With You Taking Pictures Of Some Of Everything. You Found The Beauty That Was The French Quarter Captivating And Once You Started Snapping There Was No Stopping. You Were In The Zone . You Got Pictures Of Tourist Laughing About, Flowers , Buildings, Animals.. And Him . It Wasn’t On Purpose . You Were Trying To Get This Photo Of The Most Alluring Butterfly That Landed On This Flower Outside Of This Bar. You Were Across The Street When It Flew By You And You Knew That By The Time You Got Over There To Get An Up Close It Would Be To Late So You Stayed In Your Spot Trying To Get A Good Shot . You’d Managed To Snap A Couple Of Photos Before Your View Was Blocked By City Goers.

Looking Back At The Photos Hoping To Have Gotten At Least One Good Photo Of The Butterfly, That’s When You Noticed Him. It Wasn’t Much, But It Was Enough To Draw Your Attention. Sitting In The Window Of The Bar Was A Man . The Sun Hitting His Face At Just The Right Angle. Illuminating His Golden Curls Making Him Look Like Something Out Of A Story Book .. Angelic .. Like A God .

You Couldn’t Stop Your Feet From Moving, Its Like They Had A Mind of Their Own. Before You Knew It You Were Across The Street Standing In Front Of The Bar.. Rousseau's. You Wondered Why You Haven’t Stumbled Upon This Place Before But Then Again You Weren’t Much Of A Drinker To Begin With. Things Seemed To Move In  Slow Motion In The Midst Of The Fastness Of The Quarter As You Walked Through The Door And Walking Up To The Bar, But Not Before Making Eye Contact With Your Mystery Man For A Quick Second. He Already Had You Drawn In With Just A Side Glace OF His Face From The Picture, But Once You Seen His Eyes.. His Eyes Were Something Else. Blue But With A Hint A Darkness In Them, Making The Mystery That Was This Man All The More Interesting. 

You Now Found Yourself Sitting At The Bar Drink In Hand, While Looking Through Your Camera Roll All While Hoping That The Small Eye Contact You Made With The Man Was Enough For Him To Notice You And Come Over. You Weren’t Desperate Or Anything, You Just Wanted To Know More About Him For Some Reason, And After All You Had A Boyfriend That You Loved.. You Didn’t Need Anything More. Little Did You Know He Noticed You.. Just Not At The Same Time You Noticed Him. 

Klaus Had Been Walking The Streets Of The Quarter One Afternoon.. No Doubt Coming From Rousseau’s When He Noticed You. Taking Pictures Of Everything Around You Smiling As You Did It. That Smile Of Yours Would Be Etched Into His Mind Over The Next Couple Of Weeks, And Before He Knew It You Were The New Subject Of His Paintings. He Would Find Himself Casually Walking The Streets Almost Everyday Hoping To Run Into You Because It Was Something About You That Pulled Him In.. He Wanted To Know More, He Wanted.. You 

You Were At The Bar For A Minute, You Actually Became Acquainted With The Bar Tinder. Her Name Was Camille But She Preferred Cami. You Both Sparked Up A Conversation When She Noticed The Camera In Your Hand. You Ended Up Talking About How You Were Aspiring To Become A Photographer, And She A Psychologist, When She Offered That You Could Take Some Pictures Of The Place If You Wanted And You Happily Obliged. Cami Walked To The Other End Of The Bar To Take Care Of Some People So You Were Left By Yourself Again.. Until Your Mystery Man Came And Took The Seat Next To You.. But You Were So Into The Photos You Were Taking That You Hadn’t Really Noticed, Until He Spoke With That Thick Accent Of His. 

 “Hello Love” 

And From That Moment He Had You, And He Knew It Too. For A Second You Forgot Why You Were In The Bar In The First Place Until You Turned To The Voice That Had Spoken, And Needless To Say You Were Breathless, Which Was A First For You Because You Could Talk Someones Head Off If You Wanted. You Hadn’t Really Noticed You Zoned Out While Looking At Him Until You Noticed His Lips Moving But You Weren’t Hearing Anything. 

“I’m So Sorry, Were You Saying Something” You Questioned Turning In Your Seat Towards Him 

The Famous Smirk You Would Soon Get Familiar With, The One That Would Cause Your Heart To Skip A Few Beats Appeared On His Face, As If He Knew The Effect He Had On You Already

“I Said Of All The Times I’ve Been In This Bar, I’ve Never Seen Your Pretty Face Here.. And Trust Me Sweetheart, I Couldn’t Forget A Face Like Yours” He Said Eyes Peering Into Your Soul It Felt Like.. Smirk Still In His Face “I’m Klaus” 

“Yn” 

Was All You Could Say. You Were Already Drawn To Him From The Glimpse Of Him In The Picture You Had Taken, But Being Face To Face With Him, And Hearing His Accent Was A Whole Other Ball Game And You Were Starting To Regret Coming In Here But By Then It Was Already Too Late. Whether Or Not You Knew It, You Were Pulled In And There Was No Escaping. You Never Really Noticed When People Started Leaving, Or When The Sun Went Down For That Matter. It Wasn’t Until Chairs Started Going Up That You Realized That You Had Been At That Bar For No More That 5 Hours Sitting And Talking About Any And Everything With Klaus. It Was As If You Knew Him Personally And He You. You Honestly Didn’t Want To Leave But You Knew You had Too, Your Boyfriend Would Be Back In Town Tomorrow And You Still Needed To Get Some Stuff Around The House Down, And It Was Pretty Late So You Bid Your Drinking Partner For The Time Being A Goodnight And Started To Leave But Being The Gentlemen That Klaus Mikaelson Is, He Offered To Walk You To Your Place Claiming That It Wasn’t Safe For A Young Lady As Yourself To Be Walking Alone. It Didn’t Seem Like You Had An Option Because If You Were Being Honest You Might Have Had Just A Little Too Much To Drink So You Accepted His Offer. 

Walking Under The Moonlit Sky On A Warm Summer Night Carrying On The Conversation You Too Were Having In The Bar Didn’t Help The Growing Attraction You Had For Him, But Of Course You Didn’t Know It Yet. It Wouldn’t Be Until A Few Run-Ins Later, Some Long Conversations At Rousseau's, And An Invitation To An “Annual Mikaelson Ball” Accompanied By This Gorgeous Dress That Was Way More Than What You Could Afford Right Now That You Would Soon Realize You Were Falling For Niklaus Mikaelson. Because After That First Night He Walked You Home, You Couldn’t Get Him Out Of Your Head, No Matter How Hard You Tried. 

If I Could, Could Forget Him

I Would, Please Believe Me

Over The Months You Found Yourself Thinking About Him More. Klaus Gave You A Sense Of Adventure You Didn’t Know You Wanted Until You Met Him. He Bought You Gifts Even Though You Didn’t Ask For Them, But He Would Always Reply With “A Queen Should Always Be Showered With The Finest Gifts” And You Would Always Assure Him That You Were No Queen, And It Was Getting Harder To Explain Where The Gifts Were Coming From When Your Boyfriend Would See You Wearing This Fancy Necklace, Or The Most Recent Gift, A Brand New Camera. 

And I Know That I Should Throw The Towel In

But, Baby, Its Not, Not That Easy 

You Knew What You Was Doing Was Wrong, Even Through You And Klaus Never Displayed Any Type Of Affection Towards Each Other Physically.. Emotionally You Knew There Was Something There. You Had To Cut What Ever This Was Off Before Someone Got Hurt, But It Was Easier Said Than Done, And After The Way That Night Ended Between The Two Of You When You Tried To Walk Away, It Was Very Much Too Late, You Were In Too Deep. 

 “Hello Love” He Acknowledged When You Walked Into His Study Not Noticing The Look On Your Face 

“We Have To End.. Whatever It Is Were Doing, I Told You When We First Met That I Had A Boyfriend, And I Should’ve Never Entertained Any Of This: 

“Did You Walk Here By Yourself Love, I Told You Its Too Dangerous For You To Be By Yourself When Its Getting Dark” Klaus Said Totally Ignoring What You Said” 

“D- Did You Hear What I Said Nik .. This” You Said Gesturing Between The Two Of You “Has To Stop.. I Had A Life Before I Met You.. A Wonderful Like That I Was Perfectly Fine With” 

If I Was Sane There’d Be No Competition

But, I’m In Love With Someone Else

“I Heard What You Said Love. But You And I Both Know That’s Not True” He Said Looking At You Giving That Same Smirk.. The One That Somehow Makes You Melt Every Time, The One That Made Your Heart Beat A Thousand Beats Per Minute And He Knew It 

“But It Is.. So, I’ll See You Nik” You Started To Turn Away And Walk Out But When Before You Could Comprehend It, He Was In Front Of You 

When You First Started Hanging Out Klaus Wanted To Keep You Out Of The Supernatural World, But That Failed Difficult When You Were Caught In The Crossfire Of Two Vampires When Walking Home One Day, And You Wanted Answers And That Night He Told You Everything. You Were Fascinated To Say The Least, Always Trying To Get A Picture Of Klaus In His Hybrid State, Saying It Would Be One Of The Best Shots You Would Have Ever Taken But He Never Let You

“See Love, You And I Both Know That’s Not Possible” Klaus Said As His Hands Caressed Your Arms Until He Placed Them On Your Waist, Pulling You To Him. His Touch Lit A Fire In You, One You Didn’t Know You Had And You Were Aroused To Say The Least. You Couldn’t Even Get Your Words Out Properly And You Hated The Effect He Had On Your Body

“W-Why Do You T-Think That” You Said Looking Anywhere But His Eyes 

“Because Love” He Said Gripping Your Chin Forcing You To Look Up At Him “If You Didn’t Want This, If You Truly Wanted This To End, You Would Have Called.. It Wasn’t Something That Needed To Be Said In Person” He Said Starring Down At You, Like He Was Slowly Undressing You With His Body “I Give You Something That You Didn’t Know You Needed, And You Cant Stand It. 

“And What Is That” You Said Eyes Falling To His Lips. You Cursed Your Body For Betraying You The Way It Was. Truth Is He Was Right You Didn’t Want This To End You Didn’t Want To Stop Hanging Around The Original Hybrid But You Felt Horrible, Telling Yourself That You Indeed Loved Your Boyfriend Of 5 Years, But Your Heart Telling You Something Different Whenever You Were Around Nik. 

“Adventure ..” 

Its Quite Ironic How You Came To The Compound To Let Nik Know That You Were Done With This Little Situation You Were In With Him, Only To End Up In a Complete Different Situation.. But You Couldn’t Argue That The Situation You Were In Now Was Better. Before You Knew It You Were In Nik’s Bed Wrapped Up In His Sheets. Bodies Tangled Together As His Lips Kissed Every Inch Of Your Body, Missing Not One Crevice, Crack, Or Birthmark, Marking You As His. 

His Hands Roamed Your Body Appreciatively As You Moaned Out His Name Not Really Caring If Any Of His Siblings Were Home Now. The Pleasure Was Slowly Building Up As Your Two Bodies Moved In Sync, Panting Heavily, Skin Glistening Due From The Sweat You Two Were Creating, And The Moans And Grunts From You Two Getting Louder And Louder By The Minute. 

By The Time You Two Were Anywhere Near Done, The Sun Was Coming Up, And With The Previous Events You Knew Your Legs Were Out For The Count. You Lay Wrapped Up In His Arms Head On His Chest Listening To His Undead Heart Beat While He Was Asleep Thinking About What Just Happened. Thinking About These Last Couple Of Months. You Knew It Was Going To Be A Hard Conversation To Have With Your Boyfriend. But You Knew It Needed To Be Done . Because You Weren’t Sure When It Happened, Maybe It Was The First Time You Had A Conversation With Him, Or That One Time At The Ball His Family Threw When You Were Dancing To This Slow Song And It Felt As If You Were The Only Two In The Room. Or Maybe It Was When He Saved You That Day And Told You All About His World, The Way His Voice Was Laced With Concern, Asking Were You Okay The Rest Of The Night Even When You Assured Him You Were Fine. 

He Ain’t Always Right, But He’s Just Right For Me

I’m In Love With Another Man

And I’m So Sorry, Hey

But I Love Someone Else

What Ever Moment It Was Between You And Niklaus Mikaelson Ranging From The Moment You Laid Eyes On Him Up Until Now, You Were Most Certain You Were In Love With This Man. 

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Okay So I’m Not Really Sure How I Did On This One, I Liked It And Hopefully You All Like It Also, If You Could I Would Love Feedback On My Writing So I Could Know What I Need To Work On. I’m Going To Try Uploading More Frequently Since I Graduated Beauty School So I’m At Home All Day, But Once Again I Hope You Enjoyed This As Much As I Liked Writing It. Until Next Time . 

I love you early in the morning and it’s difficult to love you. I love the January sky and knowing it will change although unlike us. I love watching people read. I love photo booths. I love midnight. I love writing letters and this is my letter. To the world that never wrote to me. I love snow and briefly. I love the first minutes in a warm room after stepping out of the cold. I love my twenties and want them back every day. I love time. I love people. I love people and my time away from them the most. I love the part of my desk that’s darkened by my elbows. I love feeling nothing but relief during the chorus of a song. I love space. I love every planet. I love the big unknowns but need to know who called or wrote, who’s coming—if they want the same things I do, if they want much less. I love not loving Valentine’s Day. I love how February is the shortest month. I love that Barack Obama was president. I love the quick, charged time between two people smoking a cigarette outside a bar. I love everyone on Friday night. I love New York City. I love New York City a lot. I love that day in childhood when I thought I was someone else. I love wondering how animals perceive our daily failures. I love the lines in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof when Brick’s father says “Life is important. There’s nothing else to hold onto.” I love Brick. I love that we can fail at love and continue to live. I love writing this and not knowing what I’ll love next. I love looking at paintings and being reminded I am alive. I love Turner’s paintings and the sublime. I love the coming of spring even in the most withholding March. I love skipping anything casual—“hi, how are you, it’s been forever”—and getting straight to the center of pain. Or happiness. I love opening a window in a room. I love the feeling of possibility by the end of the first cup of coffee. I love hearing anyone listen to Nina Simone. I love Nina Simone. I love how we can choose our own families. I love when no one knows where I am but feel terrified to be forgotten. I love Saturdays. I love that despite our mistakes this will end. I love how people get on planes to New York and California. I love the hour after rain and the beginning of the cruelest month. I love imagining Weldon Kees on a secret island. I love the beach on a cloudy day. I love never being disappointed by chocolate. I love that morning when I was twenty and had just met someone very important (though I didn’t know it) and I walked down an almost empty State Street because it was still early and not at all late—and of course I could change everything (though I also didn’t know it)—I could find anyone, go anywhere, I wasn’t sorry for who I was. I love the impulse to change. I love seeing what we do with what we can’t change. I love the moon’s independent indifference. I love walking the same streets as Warhol. I love what losing something does but I don’t love losing it. I love how the past shifts when there’s more. I love kissing. I love hailing a cab and going home alone. I love being surprised by May although it happens every year. I love closing down anything—a bar, restaurant, party—and that time between late night and dawn when one lamp goes on wherever you are and you know. You know what you know even if it’s hard to know it. I love being a poet. I love all poets. I love Jim Morrison for saying, “I’d like to do a song or a piece of music that’s just a pure expression of joy, like a celebration of existence, like the coming of spring or the sun rising, just pure unbounded joy. I don’t think we’ve really done that yet.” I love everything I haven’t done. I love looking at someone without need or panic. I love the quiet of the trees in a new city. I love how the sky is connected to a part of us that understands something big and knows nothing about it too. I love the minutes before you’re about to see someone you love. I love any film that delays resolution. I love being in a cemetery because judgment can’t live there. I love being on a highway in June or anytime at all. I love magic. I love the zodiac. I love all of my past lives. I love that hour of the party when everyone’s settled into their discomfort and someone tells you something really important—in passing—because it’s too painful any other way. I love the last moments before sleep. I love the promise of summer. I love going to the theater and seeing who we are. I love glamour—shamelessly—and all glamour. Which is not needed to live but shows people love life. What else is it there for? Why not ask for more? I love red shoes. I love black leather. I love the grotesque ways in which people eat ice cream—on sidewalks, alone—however they need it, whenever they feel free enough. I love being in the middle of a novel. I love how mostly everyone in Jane Austen is looking for love. I love July and its slowness. I love the idea of liberation and think about it all the time. I love imagining a world without money. I love imagining a life with enough money to write when I want. I love standing in front of the ocean. I love that sooner or later we forget even “the important things.” I love how people write in the sand, on buildings, on paper. Their own bodies. Fogged mirrors. Texts they’ll draft but never send. I love silence. I love owning a velvet cape and not knowing how to cook. I love that instant when an arc of light passes through a room and I’m reminded that everything really is moving. I love August and its sadness. I love Sunday for that too. I love jumping in a pool and how somewhere on the way up your body relaxes and accepts the shock of the water. I love Paris for being Paris. I love Godard’s films. I love anyplace that makes room for loneliness. I love how the Universe is 95% dark matter and energy and somewhere in the rest of it there is us. I love bookstores and the autonomy when I’m in one. I love that despite my distrust in politics I am able to vote. I love wherever my friends are. I love voting though know art and not power is what changes human character. I love what seems to me the discerning indifference of cats. I love the often uncomplicated joy of dogs. I love Robert Lax for living alone. I love the extra glass of wine happening somewhere, right now. I love schools and teachers. I love September and how we see it as a way to begin. I love knowledge. Even the fatal kind. Even the one without “use value.” I love getting dressed more than getting undressed. I love mystery. I love lighting candles. I love religious spaces though I’m sometimes lost there. I love the sun for worshipping no one. I love the sun for showing up every day. I love the felt order after a morning of errands. I love walking toward nowhere in particular and the short-lived chance of finding something new. I love people who smile only when moved to. I love that a day on Venus lasts longer than a year. I love Whitman for writing, “the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events; / These come to me days and nights and go from me again, / But they are not the Me myself.” I love October when the veil between worlds is thinnest. I love how at any moment I could forgive someone from the past. I love the wind and how we never see it. I love the performed sincerity in pornography and wonder if its embarrassing transparency is worth adopting in other parts of life. I love how magnified emotions are at airports. I love dreams. Conscious and unconscious. Lived and not yet. I love anyone who risks their life for their ideal one. I love Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera. I love how people make art even in times of impossible pain. I love all animals. I love ghosts. I love that we continue to invent meaning. I love the blue hours between three and five when Plath wrote Ariel. I love that despite having one body there are many ways to live. I love November because I was born there. I love people who teach children that most holidays are a product of capitalism and have little to do with love—which would never celebrate massacre—which would never care about money or greed. I love people who’ve quit their jobs to be artists. I love you for reading this as opposed to anything else. I love the nostalgia of the future. I love that the tallest mountain in our solar system is safe and on Mars. I love dancing. I love being in love with the wrong people.                                                                                                               I love that on November 23, 1920, Virginia Woolf wrote, “We have bitten off a large piece of life—but why not? Did I not make out a philosophy some time ago which comes to this—that one must always be on the move?” I love how athletes believe in the body and know it will fail them. I love dessert for breakfast. I love all of the dead. I love gardens. I love holding my breath under water. I love whoever it is untying our shoes. I love that December is summer in Australia. I love statues in a downpour. I love how no matter where on the island, at any hour, there’s at least one lit square at the top or bottom of a building in Manhattan. I love diners. I love that the stars can’t be touched. I love getting in a car and turning the keys just to hear music. I love ritual. I love chance too. I love people who have quietly survived being misunderstood yet remain kids. And yes, I love that Marilyn Monroe requested Judy Garland’s “Over the Rainbow” to be played at her funeral. And her casket was lined in champagne satin. And Lee Strasberg ended his eulogy by saying, “I cannot say goodbye. Marilyn never liked goodbyes, but in the peculiar way she had of turning things around so that they faced reality, I will say au revoir.” I love the different ways we have of saying the same thing. I love anyone who cannot say goodbye

Alex Dimitrov “Love”

Ignore me, I’m just complaining again as always. For the past month and a half I’ve been pressured into painting a wall for my sister in law and I mentioned before I don’t want to do this at all. Well anything artistic in general for her since she and her younger brother can be rude about it all some times. When she first found out I was artistic, she asked me to do a jungle mural on her wall for her daughter (who was 5 months about at the time) in her house she lived in during that time. Sure, no biggie. I didn’t mind. I was being paid for it, it would be done in time for Christmas, and was being given everything I needed for it, best of all I had no specific date to have it done by. She told me to do what I want, as long as I had 4 monkeys and a tree from the photos she sent me. That being said, I did what she asked and proceeded to draw on the wall she wanted on. Mind you, it’s the first time I’ve EVER painted a whole piece on a wall. I wanted it to be perfect and wanted to take make sure I drew it all correctly. She has a younger brother who was about 13 at the time and he is very, extremely vulgar and rude. He won’t care who you are, he’ll verbally harass you and feel no guilt. Even if you haven’t done anything wrong to him or anyone else. When I started drawing, he yelled, “So this masterpiece of yours is going to be a year long ordeal? Great.” Rolled his eyes and left. I knew what was going to happen, so I started showing up at her house with my noise cancelling headphones to tune him out while I finally started painting. A month passed as I was close to finishing the wall. I was tired, sore, I had a headache, and I had a lot of stress on me because I had so many personal issues eating away at me during that time. I just wanted to finish. My playlist started to buffer a little as I was finishing up painting what needed to be green. Grass, leaves, flower stems, that kind of stuff. I heard my sister in law go “Shhh! Cut it out! She’ll hear you!” Confused, I paused my music and tuned in out of curiosity. So much for noise cancelling, am I right? Her brother begins to get louder screaming, “I don’t fucking care. I don’t see why you’re paying that girl to fuck up your wall! She flat out ruined it! Hell- if you wanted to ruin your wall, I could’ve spread my ass cheeks open and shit all over your walls! You can pay me for it too!” I wanted to hide in a hole and cry. Have I really messed her wall? Was my first time painting something this huge a major fail? I felt horrible. I gathered up what was mine and ran out of there. My fiancé had to be the one to finish it. I got paid for it though, but for what? I didn’t want the money anymore, I wanted an apology that I never received to this day.

A couple of months later, her daughter’s first birthday began to approach. She was born in the summer and my sister in law had a set theme for it. A water theme to be more clear. She had a fancy camera and decided to have a special feature at the party. A backdrop with props. Which seemed pretty cool. She asked me for ideas and I told her some. Making fish using their handprints and glueing a fishnet on the backdrop, things like that. Well she replies with, “Oh cool, I didn’t know you knew how to make those! You’re doing the backdrop for me, right?” Well she never asked me, she just threw it at me.. so I said sure Ig... she told me that she needed the fish and all the backdrop stuff done before the 2nd of June. It was early May so I had plenty of time. Nope. Out of nowhere she calls saying that she needed them within the next few days, and I was nowhere NEAR done. She still demanded it and I scrambled to get it all done. I had to put the wall up on my own and it was barely the middle of May at that point, with the party still set for the 2nd of June. Didnt get paid for it and I literally had no money to buy what I needed since I didn’t have a job. I had to scrimp up about $5 for what you see that she couldn’t spare. At least she kept the decorations. She claimed her 1 year old daughter was upset that there was only ONE dolphin, even though that’s my sister in law’s favourite animal, and was she and her little brother were upset there wasn’t much done for the backdrop.

A year later, summer was rolling back in again and her daughter was turning two. Cute, happy, yay, happy feels. I was at my sister in law’s for a little get together, and she comes up to me, with me feeling dread as I knew what was going to happen. “Ohhh, I cant wait until she turns two! I have such a cute idea! I’m going to have a Mickey Mouse Club House theme with a backdrop saying “I’m TWOdles! Isn’t that cute?!” I uncomfortably smiled and nodded giving a weak “yeah” as a silent anxiety attack started kicking in. She stood there for a good few minutes as if she was waiting for me to ask to help her, which I obviously didn’t, getting flashbacks from how she demanded things to be done last second last time. So she huffed and said, “I need life size cut outs of Minnie, Mickey, Goofy, and Toodles. Do you think you can do that?” I really didn’t know how to, I honestly didn’t. I told her just that, but she didn’t let it go. She ended up telling me to make her just their heads and the words “I’m TWOdles” and how she needed them by June. This time I had a whole month. I wasn’t as anxious, I had time to figure out how to get it done. Well two weeks later she calls demanding it to be done before the day after. I panicked, seeing that I was having trouble colouring the heads nicely without being judged on how you you can see marker lines and such. And when I showed her what I had done, she was upset because it wasn’t enough to cover up the wall. She wanted more things to fill it up. So I hesitantly said large balloon flowers. She can make those on her own, while I finished the heads. NOPE! I had to be the one to do that too. I’ve never worked with balloons, I’m afraid of the sounds they make, I can’t stand them unless they’re the foil ones. I have a huge ass phobia about them and nearly cried as I made the balloon flowers. I flinched, winced, and the threw the balloons with each nasty rubber rubbing sound it made. My fiancé had to literally fucking hold me each freak out I had with those damn things. Well I had to get it all done because it’s my fault for suggesting balloon flowers to begin with. which I did. The day of the party, her family was wowed by it. Her little brother however, was angry I was getting compliments. So he began shouting that he did it all, and he worked really hard on it all. My sister in law was mad too that I didn’t get her daughter a present. Ig the wall wasn’t a good gift.

Now here I am currently, stressing over a wall plus more. My sister in law moved to a new home recently, and needed help painting walls. I painted all 3 rooms. I thought that was the end of that. WELL BUCKLE UP because she said some, “Oooo, guess what! My daughter has been asking for you to paint her walls! She really wants monkeys, lions, and elephants on her wall!” At this point I had enough. I asked, “SHE wants the animals? Or YOU want them?” She went quiet and said, “no, she’s been asking for you!” Pretty damn specific for a 3 year old to want, considering she can barely say anything. She can’t even say her own name. Here I am, sketching on the wall, with my sister in law coming right up to me telling me that she wants fish to be painted on the walls of the toy room after I’m done with the jungle crap. I got really annoyed and said she can easily use the fish stuff from her 1st birthday. She ignored that. After I drew all the crap on the wall in pencil, she stops me in the hall and adds, “Hey! So my hallway looks so bland! Any ideas on how to make it prettier? Like a tree with squares for photos?” I told her she can buy a tree decal on Amazon for cheap, but she cuts me right off screaming “Checked already, they’re $200.” I practically live on Amazon and told her no, they aren’t that expensive. Only to be cut off by her screeching “They’re $200, I don’t have $200! Give me ideas!”

Wow, ok.

So I said to do this: Put a large photo of her and her kids with neatly organised smaller photos of family moments around it. Like this:

Nope, she told me that it was “too messy and too thrown together.” Agitated, I told her it’s getting late and that I had to leave. She then started following me around when I gathered all my pencils and erasers, asking when I was coming back over to paint and if I could bring my own paint. I kept calm and said I didn’t have much money to spend to buy paint (I quit my job around November the year before) and that I’ll come over the next time she’s off work. Which turned out to be Mother’s Day. I told her I’m not coming in because I wanted to spend time with my own mom and she tried telling me all these “gifts” her 3 year old daughter was eyeing for her. Joke or not, I got annoyed because I stated multiple times that I have no job and little money to be spending on paint. I have to take care of my mom and siblings back home, buying food and house supplies with what I have. Well my dumbass absentmindedly said “This- This wall is your Mother’s Day present.” She gave me a face and said “I didn’t ask for this! This isn’t for me, my daughter wanted this!” With and eye twitch, I said that this is something SHE asked for and how HER DAUGHTER can barely speak. She can’t even say a full sentence, her name, my name, and if it’s hER DAUGHTER wanting this, what was requested for the wall was oddly specific for her to want. I told her bye and tried to leave as quick as I could to avoid any new “favours” she might have for me. As I start heading to the door, she yells after me, “come up with more ideas for the hallway for me! We’ll talk later!”

Another fun bit is that now she has a son. And for his first birthday photo shoot, she’s going to dress him up as a dinosaur, breaking out of an egg. Problem is, she doesn’t have a huge egg. She comes up to me and says, “So I need I giant egg, you can figure out how to do that, right?” I couldn’t even say no because her family was watching me, waiting for me to say “yes” even though I wanted to say no because I don’t know how to. Hell, I still don’t! I’m beyond scared to make it! When she decided for me that I was going to make her a giant dinosaur egg regardless, mother fucker adds in “Oh! I also need a life size Forky, Mr. And Mrs. Potato Head, Slinky, etc for my daughter’s birthday!” I WANT TO FUCKING CRY SHE NEEDS THE TOY STORY CRAP NEXT MONTH AND I DONT HAVE ANYTHING THAT BIG TO DRAW ON FOR IT AND I KNOW HER ASS IS GOING TO BITCH FOR IT THIS MONTH AND I KNOW IM NOT GETTING PAID FOR ANY OF THIS FUCKING SHIT FUCK ME

What was the last thing you regret buying? Most recently it’s more that I regret buying stuff with credit cards that I shouldn’t have been using. I need to stop with that.  What is something you find attractive that probably many other people don’t? Uhh. I don’t know.  Name a movie you really want to see. I want to see The Turning.  What do you usually order on a pizza? White sauce, feta and ricotta cheese, garlic, spinach, and crumbled meatballs with pesto on top.  When did your power last go out? Sometime last summer. It was like the hottest day, too.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? Yes. When did you last watch your favourite movie? I went and saw The Rise of Skywalker again recently. That’s one of my favorites. What would you order if you went to McDonalds right now? I haven’t been into McDonalds or fast food at all the past few months, oddly enough, but I’ve actually been kind of wanting a Big Mac and fries lately. :O  Are you obsessed with anything? I get into my “obsessions” with like TV shows, movies, music, etc. Things like that. Oh, and giraffe stuffed animals and graphic tees. I have a lot of both. Do you have long nails? Nope. I have barely there at all nails. What food do you eat the most? Ramen, boneless garlic parm wings, and pizza. What flavour of toothpaste do you use? (mint, cinnamon..) Mint. A light minty kind. How many posters do you have in your bedroom? I have 4 paintings/canvas/portraits hung up. Do you think it would hurt to blow up? It would be instantaneous, so I really don’t think you would have a chance to feel anything. And IF you did, it would be so quick and then over just like that *snap* How many time have you washed your hands today? Just once so far, it’s only 330 in the morning. I haven’t had to use the restroom more than once or do anything else that required me to wash my hands. Do you prefer male or female singers? I just prefer good singers. 

Do you buy birthday cards or make them? I don’t do either anymore, honestly.  What would be the best way to die? Peacefully and painless. Do you prefer to be barefoot or wear socks? Socks. I’m never barefoot, apart from when I take a shower of course.  Have you ever stuck gum under a table? EW, no. UGH, that’s so disgusting. I don’t know why people do nasty shit like that. THROW IT AWAY. What’s something in your life that you once liked but now hate? There’s things I’ve outgrown or moved on from, but hate is a strong word. Hmmm. Is there a TV show that you watch everyday? There’s stuff I watch just about everyday at least.  Do you eat your pizza crust? Nope. What do you spend the majority of your money on? Graphic tees. Last year I was shopping online like every month building up my graphic tee collection. :O What is the worst pain that you’ve experienced? Physically, the pain that comes during recovery after surgery. Emotionally, loss of loved ones. I’ve been in the lowest place mentally these past few years as well. Who is your favorite Disney character? Winnie the Pooh and Alice. Does your bedroom door lock? Yes. Do you like the gender you are? Yeah.  What is one thing you’re completely terrible at? Life. Should you really stay in a relationship if you fight everyday? Fighting everyday doesn’t sound healthy. There’s clearly some issues going on that need to be addressed and sorted through if possible. Otherwise, it may be time to call it quits. What is one thing you will never understand? Why am I like this???

Sunshine and Cigarette Smoke

Nervous Jonathan delays bringing up a relationship changing question by telling his girlfriend Mina of the time he unwittingly ruined a young lady's reputation when he was only fourteen. A writing exercise in relationship dynamic and worldbuilding for my upcoming Dracula webcomic. This series of exercises dig deeper into the details of the world that won’t fit in the comic.

Original universe. Dialogue heavy. Mature. Horny on main. There is no smut but the dialogue is a bit nsfw. 

Something about the sunny weather, the cool breeze, and the fact that there was no-one in this park made Mina feel particularly mischievous. Or maybe it was the wine Jonathan had brought along on their little spring picnic. Or the handsome way he lounged on the blanket against his elbows, head tilted back and cigarette hanging from his mouth as he took in the sunlight.

He was smoking again. He only ever did when he was stressing over something. Mina thought it had been his law exams this past winter, but he’d passed those with such high scores there was no way the Incorporated Law Society wouldn’t accept his Solicitor application even if they were taking forever to make a decision. But it was such a pretty day, and Mina didn’t want to ruin this nice moment by digging up a troubling subject so she sighed instead.

“Something wrong, babe?” Jonathan asked, popping the cigarette out of his mouth. He sat up, staring at her. “You sounded worried just now.”

Said the stress smoker.

Mina’s thoughts raced for an excuse, and then that mischievous mood she had been in came back full force. A proper lady had all the tools she needed in her frills to dig specific information out of a man, it was just matter of applying them with the right amount of effect. She smiled cutely, and her skirts ruffled as she scooted closer to him. The air was warm with late spring, so her gown had short sleeves and a low cut that revealed enough to be teasing, but covered enough to not be the talk of the town. She enjoyed pushing the boundary of modesty whenever she went out with Jonathan, mostly to tease him, and because she didn’t give a hoot about propriety when it came to him of all people. And it was hot out here. Sometimes the girls needed to breathe, too.

Mina snuggled against his shoulder, angling herself just right so that there would be little left to the imagination from his view. He smelled of warm musk and methanol and a natural sweetness just beneath his skin. His dark eyes, appreciating what she offered, suddenly narrowed in suspicion. “You’re up to something,” he said matter-of-factly with a slight frown.

“Mmmm, perhaps,” she replied coyly, not even bothering to feign innocence. Then her lips spread in a wide, playful grin. “I heard you last night.”

“Huh?”

“In the shower.”

Jonathan choked on the smoke he’d just inhaled, dark cheeks brightening with hot red. “I-I-I don’t know what you’re on about,” he wheezed.

“Oh, please. You were loud. Must have been quite the fantasy.” She pouted. “You could’ve invited me. We only get to stay with each other on the weekends, you know, when Tim's away.”

“It was all very quick, you wouldn’t have enjoyed it much,” Jonathan countered. He flicked the ash of his cigarette into the grass. “Sometimes you get the urge and have a go. Besides, you were busy grading essays, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Sure, sure. What did you think about?”

He gasped. “My lady!” he cried in feigned shock. “I hardly think this is proper conversation. Also, nothing in particular. I told you, it was quick. It caught me by surprise.” He took a thoughtful drag, then flicked more ash away. “Damn, I don’t think I had that happen to me since I was in secondary school.”

“Wait, waitwaitwait, you wanked it back then?”

“Yes?”

“But you were so… so proper!”

“Um, I’m still proper, thank you, you’re the one bringing up an indecent subject like a Godless heathen, Miss Schoolteacher.”

She waved him away. “We’re focused on you, Mr. Harker. So bitch the pot. You can't just leave it at that.”

He shrugged. “What’s there to tell? I was your typical adolescent boy with healthy urges. …Why are we even going into this? Is it really that odd for you to picture it?”

“Yes.”

He burst out laughing. “Seriously? We had a tiff behind a dumpster once, the smell was quite awful.”

“That was after I took your innocence!” Mina cried. “Before I got my grubby mitts on you, you were this pure proper little virgin who didn’t know anything about anything, and now you're telling me that you wanked? Can't picture it, not with the way you were when we got together.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“No, but that’s because I have fun teaching you. But I can’t help feelin’ a bit sorry for the poor girl that would’ve had to bear that responsibility if I hadn't came along.”

"Rude," Jonathan snorted. “Well, you came at a good time then because I had my eyes on someone else for a moment there, and it was all very humiliating.”

He took another long drag. “Okay,” he said, after turning his face to the side to release some smoke. “This should amuse you. I was fourteen so this was before you transferred to St. Joshua's. One of my mates had this older sister. Rebecca. Very pretty, smart like you; she was, I think, sixteen. Or almost sixteen. Anyway, her coming out was approaching very soon so I think she went a little wild before joining with high society.”

“Wild?”

“Did all kinds of improper things. The guys really liked her.”

“I think I would’ve liked her.”

“You two would’ve gotten on great because it gets worse. You know, I’m a young lad, weird body things are happening that I don’t know what to do with. I hadn’t became popular yet, so I was still a bit of a loser. Before the growth spurt.” It was true. Jonathan used to be below average in height until a growth spurt the summer he turned sixteen. Now he towered over most people at 188 centimeters. The top of Mina's head could barely reach his shoulder.

Mina nodded. “By the time I arrived, you had that gaggle of giggling girls at your heels and leaving notes in your locker.”

“And then you took them all away.”

“That I did. And we were rivals all the way up until our last year when you told me that you loved me.”

“But before then, everyone wanted us to date. They shipped us hard, it was weird. Little did they know…”  

Mina grinned widely. “The football team's shower room.”

“The bleachers.”

“The pool at night where I got that nasty UTI.”

“Sorry about that. Then there was behind the stage near the paint room.”

“And following that, the kitchen when we were on cafeteria duty.”

“The stables, but was that before or after the library?”

“Before the library, because then we moved on later that day to the dean’s office.”

“WE DID NOT.”

Mina laughed. “Oh, but we did, Mr. Harker. Right on his desk. You can block it from your memory all you’d like, but I have pictures to prove it. I wonder if he ever noticed the scratch marks on the wood?”

Jonathan sat there for a moment, looking completely mortified. “He had so much trust in me,” he finally said with a slight sob.

“Well, what else is the girl you’ve been playing at St. George with supposed to think when you invite her into an office alone?”

He paused, cigarette still in his hand. “…I don’t recall you being on top that time.”

“Oh, now the gentleman remembers.”

“I remember you on that desk, vividly, I just blocked out where that desk happened to be and now I know why. Did we clean up at least?”

“We're not animals. But now that we’ve gone over at least half the history of our canoodling, what about Rebecca?” Mina had to bring the conversation back to the original point before they started reminiscing too deeply about their very proper and not at all sexual relationship. “Within a few months, I had you in every way all over the school grounds, but you went absolutely nowhere with this girl?”

“Hey, fourteen-year-old boys are very intimidated especially by older women. Also, we’re getting to that. So there I am, before the growth spurt that would change my life, still kinda awkward and short and completely unnoticed by her. Or so I thought. Turns out, that wasn’t the case at all.”

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Chapter 20: JON V - I Believe It's Tradition

@helloimnotawesome - Chapter 20 is finally here! Jon and Dany time *wink wink* 

Quick thanks to @callmedewitt for giving this a quick run-through and to @beautifuloutkasts for editing my late nightly attempt at writing. Love you both to bits!

Without further ado. Enjoy!

JON V - I Believe It’s Tradition

"There's something about wolves." Dany spoke quietly and carefully as she slowly edged closer. He'd sensed her presence long before that. Looming in the doorway. Watching me. Assessing the situation. Something her and Viserys have in common. Her footsteps muted,  quieted. She must've taken off her shoes.

As he'd fled dinner, Loras quickly followed him as he caught up to him by the stairs. Not trusting himself to speak at the time, he'd instead let the Tyrell Captain do the talking. What did he say by the way? Couldn't recall, but he'd seen the look of concern as he'd glared back. All he'd wanted to do was to hit something. Someone! After giving Loras another death glare, he'd continued up the stairs towards  the rooftop. Only refuge he could think of at the time.

Of course Dany had known to find him here. He'd heard her running up the stairs, one by one, only to come to an abrupt halt as she must've seen him. He’d stood  there, ignoring the city’s hustle and bustle, his back turned towards her as he stared into the horizon. He took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes, listening to Dany speaking. Her voice is like a balm for my mind, her presence so soothing.

"Loyal to a fault. Fiercely protective of their pack. Intelligent. Playful. Tendency to be shy but that's because they don't trust strangers easily. Very loving and caring. Slow to anger, but if you manage to provoke them... Woo..." She blew out a breathe. "That bite is vicious. Deep. Precise. Even if you get away you won't get far - they'll always find you."

He cracked an eye open and glanced in her direction. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her still standing at a distance. The little lopsided smile on his lips crept  up on him. Simply by being here she makes me smile.

"I'm ok," he said softly. "You can move closer, I won't bite." Still not able to meet her gaze, he glanced down at his hands as they rested along the railings.

"No, you're not and I know you won't," he could hear the smile in her voice, "but I can observe you better from here." Oh!

"Observe me?" He sighed, "I see." Turning around he slowly, he sat down on the ground leaned his back up against the brick balustrade. "Like one of your wounded animals," he stated quietly. I should be angry by that comparison but maybe she's right. Even now, all I am is an animal. No matter how hard I work to find my place in a 'normal' human world, I'm still just a wild animal fighting for survival....

The feeling of defeat was overwhelming. He found himself wrapping his arms around his legs as he hugged his knees tightly to his chest. Silent tears began to stream and fall down his cheeks as he quickly hid his face in the space between his curled, perched up knees. He rocked himself from side to side as an attempt to calm himself, but before he knew it he was sobbing helplessly. Completely numbed by the rush of emotions, his mind went blissfully blank as  he cried his heart out in a mix of pure shame, anger, and loneliness.

Familiar fingers went running through his hair. Another hand  firm, but kindly loosening his arms from around his legs. Two, gentle, small hands pressed his shoulders back against the balustrade. Another gentle push on his knees and he felt a familiar weight straddled across his thighs. She picked up his arms and wrapped them around her waist. Again there was a familiar hand in his hair as his head was carefully moved to rest on her chest. Another arm was on his backside  softly stroking up and down his spine.

Sobbing like a child, he embraced her, hugging her in closely. He could hear her humming  in his ear, felt the vibrations in her chest as she gently rocked him. Safe. Home. Safe. Home. Repeated the two words like a mantra. Slowly, the tears began to subside, his heartbeat slowed as his breathing became  more even. Not able to yet speak, he kissed her in the hollow of her neck where the collarbones meet, hoping she'd understand the sentiment.

Dany's small, delicate hands quickly found their way to either sides of his face as she  carefully lifted him up to her awaiting gaze. Keeping his eyes closed, he felt her stroke his unruly hair out of his face. The shame was still burning in his veins. I can't look at you, Dany. Please. Not now.

Kisses as soft as summer rain were peppered in the tracks of his hot tears, so tenderly and with so much love that it had almost made him cry again. Why does she still bother to care for me? Because she's a vet and wounded animals is what she does, Jon! The voices in his head reminded him again of his status as 'non-human', his heart was again shattered. His loose grasp on the raft in the stormy seas lost. No light in the dark, no hope left. Just when I thought I'd found solid ground underneath my feet again.

"Jon, my love, stay with me." A sweet voice reached his ears like a whisper in the winds. "You are safe, you loved and you are wise."

He knew those words. They'd been whispered to him like a mantra for many nights the past many months. I'm safe, I'm loved and I'm wise. Dany! My home! Yes. Yes, I'm safe. Safe with Dany. I'm loved. Loved by Dany. I'm wise like Dany. Dany, my home. Safe. Home. Safe. Home.

"Jon," she kept peppering him with kisses as if to ensure him that she was real. "Listen to me now, ok?"

He nodded weakly.

"Listen carefully." She spoke quietly.

Another nod.

"I love you," she said as she laid a tender kiss upon his forehead. "You're the most courageous man I've met. I love your warrior heart,"one kiss to the left cheek, "–And you  are the most loving man I've met. I love your generous and kind spirit," another kiss she planted to the right cheek as she continued on, "but you don't have to fight by yourself anymore. You don't have to fight anymore at all." A peck to his nose. "We're all here for you. I asked you to let me be your strength until you regained yours. Remember?" She rested her forehead against his own.

I remember, Dany. You've been so strong already for months. I can't—

As if read his mind she interrupted him, "—and I'll continue to be strong for you as long as it's needed, Jon!"

The shame was resurfacing once more as. he began to lower his head as much as she would let him. He leaned in forward to once again rest his head upon her chest.

"Jon, you're a man. My man. Do you understand?"

He slowly shook his head. No Dany...I don't. He felt her little laugh more than heard it.

"My love, you're human. Not an animal," and before  he could object she continued, "..your instinctive reactions can be similar to that of a wounded animal. Agreed. You've been conditioned to respond that way. For your own safety and survival."

New tears began to burn and well behind his closed eyelids.

"You've survived so much trauma, and I'm so proud of you for not hiding. I'm so honoured that you let me in." His head was gently turned up as she showered him with a new round of kisses. "This isn't going to disappear over night or a few months or even a few years. This is something you'll carry with you for the rest of your life. I'm so sorry that this burden has been thrust upon you, my love, but I'll be here to carry the load with you as much as I can."

He gave up trying to stop the tears, letting them flow like waterfalls as Dany gently began to kiss them all away.

"As you grow more and more used to being loved, showered with affection and genuine care for your person, hopefully in time there'll be longer and longer between the times when you feel like you do now. But it'll take time, Jon. You need to allow yourself the time to heal. Some wounds will never heal, I know." How does she sound so sure and so heartbroken, all  at the same time? "Do you understand what I am saying, my love?"

At last, he finally opened his eyes slowly and carefully. It was dark outside now. Only light was from the small lanterns placed along the length of balustrade. How long have we been up here? When he finally managed to find his voice as it was hoarse from all his  crying he said, "I hear you and I understand. My love."

The soft lips that had previously sprinkled feather-like kisses upon his face were now on his own dry ones, breathing new life and hope into him with a passion he'd thought about since he first saw her at the wedding ceremony several hours ago.

When Dany reluctantly pulled away to catch some much needed air, she rested her forehead against his own. "You've never called me that before," she whispered, her eyes sparkling.

"No, I guess I haven't." He smiled seeing the joy in her eyes. "Can't keep only calling you 'Dany', can I?"

"You can if nothing else feels right for you." she said,  running her fingers through his hair once more.

He pulled her in a little closer as he said in a light whisper, "wouldn't have said it if it didn't feel right, darling."

"Darling? Oh you spoil me," she said with a grin  before giving him another deep kiss.

"By the way," he said pulling slightly back, "when you said 'we're all here for you' who exactly did you mean?" Did I ruin everything again now? He gave her a nervous look.

"I mean your pack, Jon. Your family. The wolves of Winterfell and the Dragons of Dragonstone." Oh thank the Gods, she smiling. "As a matter of fact I can tell you that Robb has sent the Ambassador home -  without her dinner." She snickered. "My mom sent a text a while ago."

"Wow! I'm impressed." Good job, brother. That was a ballsy move.

"Apparently so was the President." Seeing his surprise Dany nodded firmly. "In a few years when we sit together watching our butterflies play together with their dragon cousins, maybe a small litter of wolf pups," he couldn't help smiling at the picture she was painting, "who knows, might even be a little lion there." She laughed lightly. "This could potentially be a highlight for the usual storytelling around the campfire, don't you think?"

"Hmm....possibly," he said in a breath, his fingertips running up and down along her spine.

She smirked as she settled herself a little closer and a little lower. Oh Gods!

"I expect a dragonwolf or two to be added to the pack as well in the coming years," she sighed as she began to roll her curvy hips slightly. Gods this woman!

"Dragonwolves, huh?"

"Mhmm." Damn, that smirk!

"You'd be providing the dragon part I presume?"

"That'd be correct, Captain, " she answered seductively as she rolled her hips once more.   So 'Captain' is code for when she either wants to climb me like a tree or hang me from a tree. Noted!

"And the wolf part?"

"Any suggestions?"

"How about the Captain you're currently teasing, Dr. Targaryen?"

"That's a splendid suggestion!" She leant into him as she suckled his earlobe before gently scraping her teeth against his ivory skin. Breathe, you’ve gotta breathe...slowly!

"What a coincidence as I only practise procreation with winged females," he rasped, as he suddenly began to grin.

"Is that so?" she asked. Grabbing a fistful of his curly hair, she  pulled his head back slightly to look him in his eyes.

He nodded slowly.

An eyebrow furrowed up as she whispered, "..wings as in literally or figuratively speaking?"

"Either." He pushed up slightly to meet the roll of her hips.

She gasped as she said, "including angels?"

"—and fairies," he answered with a smirk.

She threw her head back laughing.

Sucking the hollow of her neck leaving a bright, red mark upon her soft and delicate skin, he rasped, " I always did have a thing for Tinker Bell."

"Oh! Would that make you Peter Pan?" Gods, I love that teasing look in her eye.

"He was just a child, woman!" He feigned offence.

She laughed again. One of my favourite melodies.

"...should I be worried about you being on the prowl for a younger model?"

"Oh shut up you big oaf!" She gave him a teasing slap on the shoulder.

"Oaf? I thought I was a wolf."

"Nah ah, you're a stallion," she replied as she slightly bit her lower lip.

"Am I now?" He asked quizzically, his kisses leading it’s way up her neck to her ear.

"Yes." Her breathing was getting heavier. "My prized Dornish stallion." Yes, I'm sure you feel it for every roll you make with those Gods damn amazing hips of yours!

"Prized stallion?"

"The prettiest in all the lands." She giggled.

"Prettiest? Wow! Think I'll go back to being an oaf then, thank you very much!"

Throwing her head back, she bursted into a fit of laughter.

He tightened his grip along  her lower back with one strong, muscular arm as he used  the other for leverage. He found a way to get back up onto his feet without dropping her. The clumsiness of the movement had made Dany laugh even harder which had made it more difficult for him to hold onto her. Gaining his balance, he gently lowered her to her dainty feet.

He dove in for another deep, heated kiss. "Take me to bed, Dany. Help me forget."

"Well," she drawled as she took his hand and started leading him towards the door, "you're the Best Man and I'm the Maid-of-Honour," she said, turning  her head as she flashed him a mischievously-sly smile, "I believe it's tradition."

the art school au no one asked for

I decided I wanted to try writing a carry on fic and they say you should write about what you know so - read it here or on ao3

Baz is a painting/drawing major, Simon is an animator, and much problem ensues. 

BAZ

At the end of every spring and fall semester, the art school hosts a student showcase, so we can gain experience with exhibitions and the like. I thought about entering a piece, one of my paintings, but I deliberated long enough that I missed the deadline. Which is absolutely fine, because everything from this semester felt like garbage to me anyways. I was trapped somewhere in my own headspace - but, anyway.

I wander through the student show, my eyes passing across the canvases and sculptures. Mentally, I have to keep my nose from wrinkling at some of them (how did these kids get into an art school? Is there actually any criteria, or do you just have to toss paint on a slab and say please?). Some of the students are standing next to their pieces, obviously brimming with pride. There’s one boy stopping anyone who is unfortunate enough to glance his way, and asking them a barrage of questions. (“How does it make you feel? Which one is your favorite? How much would you pay for this?”) I avoid him carefully, giving him and his creepy multi-face painting a wide berth.

It’s something of a surprise when I come across a laptop, set up on a podium by itself. That’s not art. But when I wander up to get a closer look, I realize it’s an animation reel. I’ve come up at the tail end of someone throwing a ball at a wall, which looks nice but is rather boring. I’m about to turn away when it changes to another clip.

The shot begins on a girl, curled in on herself, and a moment of her finger tapping the white space beneath her. And then she shoots up, arms flaring wide, head tilting back, and I’m blown away by the style of it. It’s not normal 2D animation, but a sketchy, wild style that somehow carries a lot of emotion just in the chaos. The video follows the girl, a ballerina, through a routine that I imagine would be heart-wrenching if it had music with it. Even without, I feel a pull in my chest, watching the obvious pain that flits across her shadowy and angular face.

I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful.

The scene ends with the girl knelt down again, her back heaving as she breathes heavily, and I realize I’ve been holding my own breath. It comes out in a rush as the reel changes again. I expected something just as amazing, but instead have my eyes assaulted by an ugly, gritty-looking clip of two stick figures beating the shit out of each other. I feel the scowl rise on my face and narrow my eyes at the name attached to the podium.

Simon Snow - who the fuck would name their kid Simon Snow? Sounds like the heroine of some sappy young adult novel. Maybe it’s an alias for a less idiotic name.

I straighten and adjust my jacket, eyes flicking back to the screen in the hopes that the ballerina clip was back, but instead it’s moved on to some boring clip of fish leaping from a river. My scowl deepens, and I move on, refusing to return to the laptop. Anyone who would put such a stupid video in a showcase deserves no more of my attention.

The name Simon Snow flits through my head now and then over the summer, while I serve coffee at a small, artsy shop near campus. I wonder if he ever comes in, but no one claims the name Simon for their cup, and eventually I forget about the reel, and Simon Snow, entirely.

Until the start of the new term, when I’m carrying my supplies into the art building, my  heavy bag hung painfully on one shoulder. A girl’s voice shrieks, “Simon!” and I’m nearly bowled over as she dives by me, and I register a mane of frizzy red hair and warm brown skin, similar to my own.

“Sorry, Basil!” she squeals as she barrels away, and I’m startled enough that it takes me a moment to reply.

“How do you -?” But she’s already gone, down at the end of the long corridor and throwing her arms around a tallish boy with wild bronze hair, freckles so numerous I can see them from here, and a laugh that reverberates through the hall.

That’s Simon Snow?

Shit.

SIMON

Penny surprised me in the art building, but I was glad she did - she’d been gone all summer to study in Italy, and I’d missed her like I’d miss my left hand. She spent nearly two hours chattering to me about the different sites she toured, the museums she visited, the food she’d eaten, and I listened happily, grateful to have her voice filling up our cozy flat again. It had been far too empty without her.

I don’t know how she does it, but Penny is double-majoring in art history and sculpture. She’s dead brilliant at both of them. I was royally fucked in my own mandatory art history class until she started helping me. We’ve been friends since high school, so she knows I’m shit at studying, but I managed to brush by with her help. Thank God - I wasn’t eager to repeat that class. The professor nearly fell asleep at his own lectures, I don’t know how Penny can stand him, and he’s her faculty advisor.

Despite the heavy course load I signed on for this semester, I’m glad to be back at it. I spend summers feeling off-center, like I lose my sense of direction for a few months before wandering back from the wilderness in September with leaves in my hair (it’s a feeling that’s kind of hard to describe).

Animation is a lot more work than anyone outside of the field realizes. I don’t think I even realized it when I started, but now I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. Watching my pieces come to life on a screen is like a drug, a high that’ll never come down.

But it’s exhausting.

During the semesters, I spend more time in the computer lab than out of it, making use of the huge tablets and desktops provided by the school. Penny will come hang out now and then, but I get so scary focused and quiet that she usually gets bored and wanders out after a few minutes. She fell asleep there once, half-off her chair, and I let her sleep, waking her up around two when it was time for us to walk back to the flat.

Now we’re only a few weeks into the new term, and I’ve already fallen back into the habit, chatting up the lab’s student assistant before I claim my spot in a corner, ready to work until I pass out.

I try to keep an eye on the clock, but I get so into my work that hours pass without my notice. When I realize I’ve been there for coming on six hours without a break, I force myself to drop my pen and sit up, feeling my back creak in the process. I think I’ll go heat up one of the frozen meals I’d thrown in the student fridge last week; I can feel the hunger creeping up in my stomach.

It’s so late, just past midnight, that barely anyone is around. I’d work at home if I could, but the equipment is so expensive that I can’t really afford my own, with only a laptop and a shitty knock-off tablet that I use for personal stuff. The cord is fraying and half of the time won’t connect, but it does what I need.

I’m shocked when I amble into the student lounge to find a guy digging through the fridge, the room around him so dim that the bright white light makes him look pale, like a vampire. But when he closes the door and stands up, I realize he’s got almond brown skin, and grey-green eyes like a deep lake. And he’s scowling at me.

“Can I help you with something?” he snarls, clutching a carton of cream, and I’m immediately caught off guard by the aggression in his tone.

“Yeah mate, you’re in front of the fridge,” I say slowly, pointing. His cheeks darken and he steps away, heading to the counter where there’s coffee brewing. Neither of us says anything for a long bit, while I pull my food out and chuck it in the microwave.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observe him, trying to take stock. The half-up bun and long sleeve black button-up seem about right, but I’m surprised by the massive black combat boots, giving him an easy extra two inches in height.  

Finally, because the silence is deafening, I say, “Working late, then?”

His answer is abrupt. “Yes.”

I try again. “My name’s Simon.”

“I know.”

I furrow my eyebrows at him, fed up. “Want to tell me yours then, or are you just going to keep being a dickhead?”

This clearly startles him, looking at me with wide eyes and saying his name, two quick syllables. “Bas-il.”

“Bazzzz-il,” I drawl, dragging out the z sound present in that ridiculous name. His lip curls, actually curls, and I’m almost impressed before something occurs to me. “Wait. Not Basil, as in T. Basilton Pitch?” There’s no way there’s multiple people in the world with a similar name, let alone this school.

“The very same.” I’m floored. This is the prat whose art I always notice in the halls? Every time I see an impeccable figure study or a breath-taking oil painting, the name ‘T. Basilton Pitch’ is always attached underneath.

Five minutes ago, if you had asked me who I thought was the most talented in the building, I would’ve said Pitch immediately. But now that the arse is standing in front of me, antagonizing me, I’m not about to give out any compliments.

“Oh. I’ve seen your work in the cases.” The microwave beeps at me, and I fiddle with it before saying grumpily, “S’ pretty nice.” Damn. That sounded more sincere than I’d meant it to.

“I’m flattered, I’m sure,” Basilton says sharply, before loudly dropping his mug into the sink and disappearing out the door. I throw myself down at one of the tables and start shoveling mashed potatoes into my mouth, annoyed now.

T. Basilton Pitch.

What a tit.

PENNY

It’s 3 am when Simon finally wanders in, squinting even in the darkness, dragging his feet like he’s left lead in his shoes. He always does this, pushing himself to the edge of exhaustion and probably ruining his eyes in the process.

And then he has the audacity to try and lecture me. I’m reading by a soft lamp when he comes in, and he snaps at me about damaging my eyes, by reading in such dim light. I raise my eyebrows at him and flip the book shut. “Who spit in your tea tonight, Simon?”

He glances at me apologetically, dropping his bag onto the floor before throwing himself down on the couch beside me, head resting on my hip. “Basil,” he growls, as I absentmindedly run my fingers through his curls.

“Oh, met him, did you?” Simon sits up and looks at me sharply.

“You know him? How?”

I shrug. “He was in my Drawing II class. Put the rest of us to shame, with his drawings and his shit attitude. The professor told him to shut the fuck up once when he made a girl cry, and he just sneered at him. It was quite a scene.”

It had been a real scene. I make a point not to be friends with assholes, but I remember I couldn’t help being a little bit fascinated by this tall dark prat, who looked ready to throw hands every time the professor said anything. And it hadn’t really been his fault that girl started crying - we were in the middle of a peer critique, and Baz told her in somewhat harsher terms that her anatomy was way off.

She’d just started bawling. It was embarrassing for everyone.

I tell Simon as much, and he seems genuinely intrigued. “Maybe he’s just an asshole to people he doesn’t know,” Simon says slowly. “Maybe if I’m nice to him, he’ll be nice back.”

“Simon, not everyone’s like you. Like if a golden retriever became a human.” He looks almost offended at this. “Baz is endlessly contrary. I wouldn’t put money on even you being able to befriend him.”

“Penn, come on. Everyone needs friends.”

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

BAZ

Three days after I officially met Simon Snow, I’m still kicking myself for the whole thing.

Seeing him up close had just been too much. This dead handsome idiot, standing over me at nearly one in the morning, staring at me with his mouth open - far too much for my sleep deprived brain. I’d gone and made a complete ass of myself.

It was the first time I’d left my studio that day, just looking for a coffee, and my brain had stayed behind.

Honestly, though, it’s probably all for the best. I’m too fucking queer to have a guy that good-looking around on a regular basis. (What is up with all those freckles? He looks ill. I want to draw the constellations on his face.)

When next I see him, it’s thankfully from a distance again, far across the campus green. He’s got two girls with him. I recognize one of them, short and stout with that mad frizzy hair, but the other is a complete stranger. Even far off, I can tell she’s beautiful, even to my gay ass. (I’m gay, not blind.) She’s the kind of beautiful you can’t help but notice. Waist-length honey blonde hair, a perfect figure, expensive-looking clothes and high-heel ankle boots, though they still don’t make her as tall as Simon.

Too late, I realize I’ve completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, gaping at them across the lawn. My eyes lock with Simon’s, and suddenly he breaks out into this enormous grin.

I might be a little fucked.

Simon is saying something to the girls and then jogging toward me, and my time to escape has fled. Not that I could’ve - that smile was so much I think it rendered me briefly immobile, gluing my shoes to the pavement.

“Hey, Basil,” Simon greets me sheepishly, stopping before me and rubbing the back of his neck. He looks so carefree, in loose jeans that somehow look good, and a graphic tee partially covered by a paint-stained hoodie. He rips the green beanie off his head and shoves his hands through his orange curls, making them stand on end. And he’s wearing these massive circular, wire-framed glasses, and I’m mesmerized.

“...Hey?” I say, cursing myself for letting it come out sounding like a question. Simon doesn’t even seem to notice, his smile smaller now but no less painful to look at.

“Look, I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was completely knackered, I’d been in the lab for hours and was feeling a bit grouchy.” To say I’m startled by this apology is putting it lightly. I’d been rude first, what is he apologizing for? Defending himself?

Maybe just this once, it would pay to play nice. I glance over Simon’s shoulder, where the two girls were still watching their interaction, waiting. “Er - it’s alright. I’m - sorry as well. I was barely functioning that night.” Simon’s face lit up at my mostly friendly response, and I think I might be barely functioning now.

“Penny and Agatha and I are going off campus for a bite, you wanna come along?” Agatha must be the other girl. I vaguely remember the name Penny, some distant memory from second semester. But there’s no way I’m up for that much social interaction today; just this interaction has nearly killed me.

“Ah, I’ll - have to pass,” I choke out. “I’ve got a date.” Simon looks surprised before I finish, “With my studio.”

There’s no way it’s relief that flashes across Simon’s face at that amendment. No fucking way.

“Oh, right, then,” he says. “Another time, then.”

Weary now, I try to smile, but I think it must look like more of a grimace, before I stride away.

“Basil!” Simon calls my name and I turn back to look. Now that I’m looking at him, he seems not to know what to say, his hand pulling awkwardly back to his chest like he’d been reaching out. “Uh - good luck with the painting!”

“Cheers,” I reply, walking away then without looking back.

SIMON

I’m wandering back to the computer lab that evening when I notice the light on in the studio labeled T. Pitch. It’s pretty late, already after ten, and while I’m not surprised Basil is still here, I’m a little curious. I’d grabbed a few scones from the bakery Penny works at before coming back to campus, with a mind to eat them later - but maybe Baz would like one. I’d heard Penny call him Baz, and I can’t blame him for the nickname. I wouldn’t want people calling me Basilton either.

I wonder what the T stands for? Could it be something worse than Basilton? Is that possible?

I knock twice on the door of the studio before turning the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Baz is clearly shocked to see me, jerking his hand away from canvas he’s working and yanking his earbud out.

“Christ - ever heard of knocking?” All this guy seems to know how to do is snap and snarl. I’m already bristling.

“I did knock.”

“Well, you’re supposed to wait for me to say come in.”

“You’ve got headphones in.”

“Exactly.”

I force myself to take a deep breath, before I hold up the pastry bag. “Thought I’d bring you some food. You seem the type to get sucked in and forget to eat, am I right?” I can tell by the defensive look on his face that I am. “Look - don’t say anything. Just take this, alright?” I take the wrapped pastry from the bag and toss it too him, and he’s not too bewildered to catch it. “Have fun, yeah?” I back out the door before Baz can say anything else and snap it shut.

I don’t know what I expected. Some declaration of gratitude? I’d never expect that of anyone, let alone that prickly bastard. That’s not why I do things for people.

But fuck, was it too much to even be civil? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so grouchy. He’d seemed to quiet earlier, soft, almost. Shy. Maybe he’s bipolar. It wouldn’t surprise me whatsoever.

Or maybe he’s just an asshole.

I continue onto the lab, spinning my chair so the back touched the desk, and straddle it, resting my chin on the cushion. Penny yells at me that I’m going to ruin my back sitting like this, but it’s comfortable, so I always ignore her.

I’m struggling with a frame I’m working on, unable to get the flow right between shots. It makes me blink out sometimes, when I get really stressed by something that isn’t meshing. Normally I’d take a walk, but I’m not so sure tonight. What if I run into Baz? I’m pretty sure I’d deck him at this point, I’m so worked up.

I should probably just call it a night. I look at the close - 2 am. Yeah, I’ll just call it a night. I flick the light off as I leave the lab, letting the door shut behind me.

As I walk by the private studios, I notice Baz’s light is still on.

I keep walking.

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 7

@michael-langdon-appreciation

February had given way to May and long-weekend fair and picnic was nearly perfect. Local ranchers and farmers were done enough of the spring planting to take a moment and actually relax. The rest of Palos Verdes that could shut down for part of the day did, and the weather usually cooperated.

It was one of Y/N's favorite community events. Like hibernating animals crawling from their dens to discover the world had become shiny and fresh all over again. She was more like a bloated balloon than a thin blade of spring grass. The baby was taking up more and more room in the bulkhead that had become her stomach, but her changing body didn’t bother her too much. The kid needed room to grow, yet the timing for her due date meant she wouldn’t be hauling a huge belly around all hot, sweaty summer long.

Or maybe best of all? Jim didn’t seem to mind one bit. He'd been attentive and caring, and oh-my-gawd intensely involved for the last three months.

She'd been surprised when her interest in sex hadn’t decreased as her girth widened, but maybe the nonstop caresses and massages had something to do with that. He'd all but moved in with her. Fixed the damages caused by Rick then they'd both set out to ignore the other man. The restraining order had been a sad but necessary step.

Jim paced beside her, his fingers linked through hers as they strolled the fairgrounds, the scent of buttery popcorn and new-mown grass mixing into a sort of holiday-themed perfume.

"Move over, dude." Medina shoved her way between them, linking her hands over both their elbows. "I take it we won't be attempting any ride records on the Zipper this year, hey, Y/N?"

Oh, lord, no. "I can only imagine what that would do to the kid. If you want to challenge your stomach, sweet-talk someone else into riding with you."

Medina squeezed her arm. "Perfect. That's what I hoped you'd say." She stepped forward, boldly tugging Jim with her. "Hey."

He resisted her takeover. "Not me."

Y/N laughed. "Go on if you want to. I'll wander for a bit."

"Nope. I'm here with you,” Jim insisted. His eyes lit with mischief. "Hey, Alex. You still scared of heights?"

Her brother sauntered into view, corndog in one hand, burger in the other. "You smoke something funny over here? I'm not afraid of heights."

"Good to hear." Jim darted a quick glance at Y/N. "Then you can take Medina on the Zipper."

Medina dug her fingers into Jim’s side briefly, and Y/N attempted not to laugh out loud. She joined him in the tease, complete seriousness in her voice. "That’s a good idea. I usually ride with her, but this year the poor girl is simply lost without me."

"With friends like you two, who needs enemies?" Medina muttered. Then she turned her bright smile on Viserys. "So, whad'ya say? Shall we go flip ourselves around and show the teenagers how it's done?"

Alex gave them a dirty look before gesturing Medina ahead of him toward the fair rides set up in the corner of the grounds. Y/N and Jim managed to wait until the other two were out of hearing range before bursting into laughter. "That was sheer brilliance," Y/N praised him.

Jim caught her fingers in his. “Alex likes her. I don't know what his problem is."

“Medina's a bit ...exuberant at times. Bet they'll figure it out eventually." Y/N got sidetracked by the sight of an art display. "Come on, I want to look closer at this." One of the locals who had an art studio had displays of her work set up on easels, and Y/N slipped in closer to chat with Sandy for a while. The other woman had far more experience, with an art show or two under her belt. Y/N loved that there were people she could turn to for help as her new interests continued to grow.

Jim let her go, striding over to the next tent where a group of guys had gathered to shoot the breeze.

Sandy smiled. "Hey, good to see you again. Name is Sandy if you've lost it."

Y/N accepted a brief hug. "You're so lovely. Also, thank you for not saying,‘haven’t you had that baby yet?' People should have to give me a quarter every time they mutter that phrase."

"You're not ready to pop," Sandy teased.

"Four weeks left." Y/N admired the painting in front of her, with two cowboys sitting easily on the backs of their horses. "Your work is amazing."

The woman grinned harder. "I have great inspiration." They both turned without a word to stare across the yard. Y/N took a moment to admire Sandy’s men, Rolando and Jack, but her gaze moved quickly to Jim. "I'll say. I think I need to suggest another practice session of nude sketches. To work on my anatomy lines."

Sandy chuckled. "Dirty girl. I knew I liked you for a reason." They exchanged smiles then visited for a bit longer before Y/N wandered off. Jim was still busy talking to his friends, so she waited outside the cookhouse and chatted with the ladies there. Familiar faces-at times names eluded her, but her problem didn't bother her nearly so much anymore.

The people who mattered knew how to help her, and the people who didn't know, she got around. Life had changed a lot since the previous fall. The kid rolling awkwardly inside her was only part of it as elbows or knees dug into her bladder at the most inopportune moments.

It was bigger things. She was more confident than she used to be. More determined to do what was right for her and the baby. More in tune with the man who had come into her life in a powerful way.

HE WATCHED HER. All the time Jim laughed and joked with his friends, he kept an eye on Y/N. Loving the moments where she smiled in response to a comment, her entire face shining with happiness and joy. He got to see her like that more often these days, and her enthusiasm thrilled him.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. "You're obsessed with my sister," Chad poked.

"Not even going to deny it."

Chad grumbled. "No fun to tease you anymore. You're all Y/N all the time."

"Tease Adrian instead," Danny suggested. "He's got a cop on his tail. One more ticket, bro, and she’s going to impound your bike and slap your ass in jail for a couple nights."

Adrian didn't answer, just eyed Eli as she strolled through the crowd patrolling the fairgrounds, her uniform far more wrinkled than usual. Jim wondered briefly if something was going on he wasn't aware of.

He'd been so focused on Y/N and his conversation that he almost missed it. A familiar face popped out briefly from behind the corner of the cookhouse. "Was that Rick?" he snapped.

Chad twirled. "Where? He's not supposed to be anywhere near Y/N."

There was no one there. "I'm seeing things," Jim mumbled. Only he still left the tent, glancing around closely. He passed Alex and Medina returning from the rides.

Medina's cheeks flushed from excitement. She slowed as he passed her. "Jim? What's up?"

He ignored her, pacing forward. Fucker. It was Rick, now leaning on the outside of the cookhouse and staring intently at Y/N. The expression on Rick’s face suggested his attention wasn’t a good thing.

"Oh my God, that’s Rick." Medina slapped Jim on the shoulder rapidly a dozen times, her voice shaking as she ran along beside him. "What's he doing here? What's he doing?"

Jim wasn’t going to wait for something bad to happen. He stormed across the clearing between tents, headed straight for the troublemaker. He grabbed Rick by the back of the shirt and jerked him off his feet. "What the hell? You're not welcome here."

Rick scrambled to free himself from Jim's grip, seams shredding as he broke free and stumbled into the crowd. He used the people around him to pull himself upright and whirl toward Jon. "Bastard,” he snarled. "You think you’re so much better than me, but you're the biggest loser here. A liar and a killer, and you don't deserve to be with someone like Y/N."

Jim lifted his fists and widened his stance. Rick wanted a fight? Bring it on. Medina slipped into his peripheral vision, standing well back from them both. "Jim. I called the police and they'll be"

"Police? Why the fuck did you do that for?" Panic streaked across Rick’s face, and he surged forward, only this time toward Y/N, one hand raised threateningly in the air.

“Y/N watch out," Medina shouted.

Jim lost it. He threw himself in front of Y/N as a protective wall, and Rick bounced off him. "Back off," Jim warned.

Rick exploded, punishing Jim with a flurry of fists. He wrapped an arm around Jim and jolted forward, the two of them staggering into the crowd as people screamed and attempted to run away. Y/N cried out, his name escaping her in pained gasp. The sound barreled through him, a terrifying echo from his past when he'd been too late to make a difference.

Jim went numb. Y/N. He had to protect Y/N.

Rick wasn’t supposed to be here, not this close to Y/N, but the man obviously didn't care about the law. Jim ignored the fist smashing against his face, instead pushed forward and did his best to move Rick farther from his target. Pain ignored, the shimmer of stars floating past his eyes ignored. All that mattered was keeping Y/N safe.

Around them people continued to shout, but Jim didn't stop. Didn't stop until he was on the ground, and even then he clutched Rick tightly, refusing to allow the man to escape. He didn’t swing his fists-didn't attack. Just held on and took the assault as he kept Rick away from Y/N.

"Jim, you ass, let him go," Chad shouted from somewhere close by.

The shouting and noise seemed to be dropping, but the adrenaline racing through him kept his grip firm. "No, he'll hurt Y/N."

"No one is going to hurt Y/N." Chad’s big hands pushed down on his shoulders. "Jeez, man. The PVPD are right here. Let him go so they don’t rip off his arms."

Jim relaxed. Rick was lifted off him, rapidly pulled to his feet and away from where Jim remained on the ground.

Chad offered a hand and pulled him upright, bracing him for a moment as everything spun. Jim's eyes wouldn't focus for a minute, and he blinked hard. “Y/N. Where's Y/N?" he demanded.

"Settle down,” Chad ordered. "She’s over there."

Jim whipped his head to check she was okay, nearly falling over he moved so fast. "Thank God, you're safe. You okay?"

Her face had gone white, and her hands were draped protectively around her belly. She nodded, leaning against Medina as her friend pulled her into a hug.

A few feet away Eli stood guarding a handcuffed Rick. Her partner Trace stood beside Jim, while other PVPD worked to calm the crowd. "I’ll be back in a minute." Eli spoke softly.

"Jim, don’t leave before we talk to you, understand?"

Jim nodded, and Eli turned to lead Rick to the police car.

Trace interrupted her departure. "Wait. I hate to do this in light of what just happened, but I have no choice." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long envelope, passing it to Jim.

This wasn’t the time. "I need to see Y/N," Jim protested. Trace forced the paper into his hand. "Read it, now,” he ordered.

"You had it coming," Rick gloated. "Stay away from my woman, Mason."

Oh shit. That couldn't be good. Jim ripped the top off the envelope and frantically opened the paper. The words made no sense, though. "This... This can't be right."

He had to be seeing things.

"What is it?" Y/N asked, stepping closer.

Trace held up a hand, undeniable reluctance twisting his expression. "I'm sorry, Y/N. You can’t come any closer than that, I'm afraid."

Jim held the papers to Chad. "Did Rick hit me harder than I thought? How can this be legal?"

It was Trace who answered. "They were delivered this morning."

"It's for your own safety, Y/N." Rick had put on the act again; all calm and mature, as if he hadn't just tried to attack her. "For our baby."

Trace motioned to Eli. "Take him away, I'll deal with this."

Everyone fell silent as a laughing Rick was guided off the fairgrounds, Eli's firm grip on his shoulder.

Jim's gaze met Y/N's-her panic and upset so clear he nearly ignored everyone around them and stomped across the space separating them, papers be damned. "Jim? What's going on?" she asked.

Chad walked over to give his sister the papers, wrapping an arm around her. The expression on Y/N’s face as she read them scared him more than the sight of Rick stalking her had.

"It's a restraining order against Jim," Trace explained to Y/N. "Using Jim's history, Rick went in front of a judge and filed a complaint. He said he had concerns that you and your baby might be in danger, especially if it’s discovered that the baby is actually his."

"That’s bullshit,” Medina snapped. "How can Rick  get a restraining order on Jim? That’s up to Y/N, not anyone else."

Trace shook his head. "Except in special circumstances. Here in PV, this is a civil-court matter. If there's a reasonable belief that a claim is valid, exceptions can be made. The judge agreed there was a possibility of danger considering Jim was involved in a violent incident as a youth."

"Violent incident ...? He was trying to save his mom." Y/N shook the papers. "This is wrong, and the only reason Rick did it was to control me and hurt Jim."

Trace sighed. “There’s nothing I can do. Jim can go in front of a judge to protest, but until it's overruled, the order stands until the baby is born and the paternity test is complete."

Chad was back by Jim’s side, offering support. Jim rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, the world swirling between pain and frustration.

Fear still shone in Y/N's eyes, and Jim felt it to his very soul. "I can't be with Y/N?"

"I’m sorry, no. No contact over the phone or Internet either. No communication. It’s a full restriction, and if you break it, you can be arrested."

Jim wanted to shout in rage even though that was the worst possible idea at the moment. Fury against Rick shot through him like living flames, but his hands were tied.

He was trapped.

Across from him, Y/N faced Trace. "I need to talk to you for a minute." The PVPD looked confused, but he nodded. "Go on." She spoke clearly, her voice the only sound as everyone around them hushed to silence once more. “Rick  went too far. I'm going to do everything possible to make sure he gets no contact with my baby, even if he is the biological dad. He's dangerous."

Sweet relief poured through Jim. Her voice quivered for a second, those beautiful eyes of hers filling with tears, but she still lifted her chin and continued. "Tell Jim not to break the order. Contact the judge to see if he can get it lifted, but if he can't, I want him to wait it out. It's only for a little while. It sucks and it's wrong, and if Rick were still here I'd be the first one to knock him on his ass for doing this to us, but it's not worth going to jail for. I'll be fine, and within a month we'll be past this and we'll go on with our lives."

Such strength and power in her small frame, Jim was nearly overwhelmed by the display. "Hey, Trace?" he called. The PVPD turned his way. "Yes?"

Jim followed Y/N’s lead. "Tell Y/N I’m going to do everything I can."

"I know ..." she answered, not looking away from Trace. He shook his head. "Guys, you have to stop this. It's time to move on."

They faced each other across the distance that before had seemed like nothing but was now as large a barrier as the Narrow Sea. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she gazed sorrowfully one final time before walking toward the parking lot.

Jim's soul crumbled into dust. "How could this happen?" he whispered. "It's not right, to leave her all alone. I wanted to protect her. I need to protect her ..."

The murmur of voices rose as Medina stepped to his side. She laid her hand on his arm. "I'll go with her. I know it's not what you really want, but somehow we'll get through this."

"Go-” he urged.

Medina quick-stepped across the field to rejoin Y/N, slipping an arm around her. Y/N leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder, and they walked slowly, disappearing from sight around the corner.

All the happiness and joy Jim had finally allowed himself to grasp slipped away like ashes being blown from an abandoned fire pit.

Everything Needs a Little Magic

ALL. ABOARD. THE FLUFF TRAIN!

Seriously. This is just fluff. Entirely self indulgent.

Summary: You and Piotr spend the day watching Disney movies.

THAT’S IT. NO PLOT. NOTHING BUT FLUFF. I’M DEADASS SERIOUS.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for making out.

@colossus-and-cable-and-thanos THIS IS ALSO FOR YOU, BB. YOU KNOW WHY! YOU KNOW!

(Also, while we’re here, I highly recommend that y’all check out @x-men-babe‘s blog. They’ve got a masterlist (unlike me, who can’t get their SHIT together) and their writing is really fantastic (READ ICEBOX. DO IT. YOUR LIFE WILL BE BETTER FOR IT. I PROMISE!).

And, unlike me, they take requests! I’ve had a couple people ask me if I take requests. At this point, I don’t, and I’m not sure if I ever will. Outside of special occasions (or finishing my Piotr fic series, which’ll probably take at least a year), it’s not something I can see myself doing. I get very attached to ideas and tend to covet them closely, which ultimately doesn’t work well with doing requests (that and I don’t struggle with writing of my own volition).

But yes! Check out x-men-babe’s blog! You won’t regret it! 10000% Goblin Guarantee of quality!)

Sunlight dapples the bright green undergrowth of the woods behind the X-Mansion. Birds chirp overhead, their merry sounding songs echoing up to the bright, flawless blue sky. Bees occasionally buzz past, in search of the next patch of cutely colored flowers.

It’s a picturesque day.

You, however, are not.

You’re absolutely drenched in sweat, slick and shiny with it as you jog on a well worn path in the woods. Your shirt and gym shorts cling to your body, darkened with your excess perspiration. Your hair is equal parts limp and frizzy, and the strands that have fallen out of your haphazard pony tail --tied during the ugly hours of the morning when you’d first woken up to start your work out--are plastered against your forehead or your neck. Your knees are smudged with dirt from where you tripped earlier --along with your hands--and you just generally look like a mess.

A happy mess, though. A well-exercised mess. This run has been a part of your daily routine for several months now, and you’ve built enough endurance to go the whole distance without stopping or passing out!

You are, however, realizing that you might need to get up earlier if you want to avoid the sweltering summer temperatures and the corresponding sweat bath. You’re not sure which is more disgusting --being so sweaty that people can see their reflections when they look at your skin, or getting up early.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting up early. Probably.

As you jog through the gardens and towards the back of the mansion, you spy Piotr sitting out by the back door in his human form, presumably waiting for you.

Part of it is elating --because just last night he confessed he was in love with you and borderline made out with you on a secluded bench behind a tree, and you’re always happy to see him--but part of it is groan worthy --because just last night he confessed he was in love with you and borderline made out with you on a secluded bench behind a tree, and right now you look absolutely awful.

You slow to a stop a few feet away from him and spread your arms wide, as if waiting for applause before taking a bow. “Behold me and all my drippy glory!”

Piotr chuckles as you flop onto the ground. “You look fine, myshka. I take it your run went well?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, but it’s so damn hot.” You sit up and grimace when you try --and fail--to wipe stray blades of grass off your arms.

“Perhaps you should start waking up earlier.” He’s frowning now, concerned. “It is not good to run in this heat. You could make yourself sick.”

“Okay, I know you’re just trying to help me be healthy, but you should know that suggesting waking up anytime before eight is treason.”

He smiles fondly and shakes his head. “Will you listen if I offer something in return?”

“Absolutely. Even if it’s just you taking your shirt off. Especially if it’s you taking your shirt off. Can you tell I have a vested interest in seeing you with your shirt off?”

His cheeks flush red, but he laughs anyway as he holds out a water bottle to you. “I thought you would be thirsty, since you usually don’t take drink with you. Which--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not healthy.” You groan as you press the cool plastic against your hot skin, then take a few icy sips and sigh contentedly. “You’re a real prince among men. You know that, Piotr?”

“Last I checked, it’s called being nice.”

“Pretty sure you’re just an alien that thrives off being courteous.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks. “So, I am alien Prince?”

“I don’t see why not. You’ve got manners and can morph into a massive metal version of yourself. Pretty fuckin’ weird, if you ask me.” You guzzle a little more water, then groan as you push yourself into a standing position. “You’re dressed casual today. Is school not in?”

“Nyet. We are out for year.”

Right. You knew that. Duh.

Your brain does the math of it’s own volition. 

The students and most of the teachers are out for the day and won’t be back until late evening. Those who’ve stayed behind will likely spend the day doing what they want. And, as if that wasn’t wonderful enough, Wade and Nathan are out of the house on a job for Weasel. 

You smile as an idea comes together in your head. “Are there any missions you have to go on.”

Piotr shakes his head. “Nyet.”

“Do you have any hard set plans for the day?”

He’s smiling now, catching on to what’re you’re getting at. “I do not.”

“Then, what say you and I spend the day together once I’m done showering? I’m thinking marathon movie session.”

“I think I would enjoy that very much.” He opens the back door for you and ushers you inside. “But you really should take water with you on runs, moya lyubov’. Dehydration is no joking matter.”

You hide your fond smile by lifting the spout of the water bottle to your lips and let your mother-hen boyfriend lecture you about proper athletic safety and the importance of being well hydrated.

God, you love this man.

Once you’ve thoroughly scrubbed yourself and put on some dry clothes that don’t reek of sweat, you pop downstairs in search of Piotr.

He’s in the kitchen, making an early lunch for himself. “Have you eaten yet, myshka?”

“No. I prefer doing fasted workouts. You build more muscle that way.”

“Da, but you should eat something. You have burnt great deal of energy.”

“I’m going to.” You pat his arm reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry, okay? Believe me, I’m starving. There’s no way I’m going any longer without eating than I absolutely have to.”

The line of his shoulders relaxes as he exhales. “Sorry, I--”

“Don’t apologize, Pete. I like the way you’re sweet and want to take care of everyone; it’s endearing.” Then, to prove your point, you clamber up onto the stool next to him and kiss him.

Even though most of you is completely swept away by the sheer sensation of his lips pressing against yours, a tiny part of your brain still registers ‘holy fucking shit, I’m kissing Piotr, I’m his girlfriend now, I can kiss him whenever I want, this is so fucking awesome--’

He breaks the kiss with a smile and rubs the swells of your cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough of that.”

You grin and lean back in for another kiss. “Me either.”

He presses a gentle finger against your lips. “Eat something, please, dorogaya moya.”

You kiss the pad of his finger and hop off the stool. “Fine. If you insist. So, what movies are we watching?”

“I thought I would let you choose. I put my DVD binder on table in rec room.”

You stealthily lift a pack of Pop Tarts out of one of the boxes Wade has stashed on top of the fridge, then use Piotr’s meal prep distraction to slip into the rec room with your hard earned treat in hand. You situate yourself on the couch, open the foil wrapper holding the breakfast pastry as quietly as you can, and shove half a Pop Tart in your mouth while you start flipping through the DVD booklet.

The sheer number of choices is overwhelming. You wouldn’t have pegged your boyfriend as a movie junkie. The case contains a little bit of everything, from some discs with titles in Russian --no surprise there--to cheesy rom coms to several pieces by Alfred Hitchcock.

What is surprising, though, is when you spy Disney’s Peter Pan movie at the bottom right corner of one of the ‘pages.’ After staring at it for a moment, wondering why Piotr would have a kid’s movie, you shrug it off and flip over to the other side. He’s a teacher. Of course he’d have a kid’s movie or two.

Except it isn’t just one or two. Peter Pan is just the tip of the iceberg; a few quick, disbelieving flips to the end of the binder confirms that he has every Disney movie released on DVD, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Moana.

Woah. Did not see this coming.

“Pop Tarts are not a meal, dorogaya moya.”

“Agree to disagree.” You look up at him as he walks into the rec room with two plates of food. “Hey, why do you have so many Disney movies?”

“They are happy movies,” he says as he sets one of the plates in your lap. “Besides, I like the art and animation.”

“I’ve never seen ‘em. What makes them so great?”

“Well, the older ones were done by hand. Artists made backgrounds, then painted animation cels for each frame. The cels were photographed, then put together into full movie. It is...” His voice trails off as he tries to find the words. “Awe-inspiring, as artist, to watch. Compared to modern standards, the movies are arguably crude, but the amount of effort is... amazing. And I think the old movies are beautiful in ways that new movies aren’t. The texturing of the backgrounds, the softness... it is incredible.”

“Wow. That is cool. What about the newer ones?”

“Computer animation is fascinating. I doubt it will ever be ‘my thing’ but it is still interesting to watch. Plus, stories and plots are better written. Usually.”

“Always a good thing.” You shove the last Pop Tart half into your mouth and shrug. “Disney’s good. You pick where we start.”

“We start at beginning,” he says emphatically as he carries the DVD carrier over to the entertainment center.

You look down at the plate as he sets everything up and gasp when you realize it has a neat little pile of Cheetos on it. “Wait, is this for me?”

“Da. I told you Pop Tarts were not meal.”

“Man, I scored a total package. How did that even happen?”

He blushes as he stands and walks over to the couch. “I think am I the one who ‘scored,’ myshka.”

You smile and sigh happily when he presses his lips against yours.

There’s no way life gets any better than this.

Life, in fact, does get better.

Namely, in the sense that you get to spend the whole day watching Disney movies with your boyfriend.

And in the sense that, if prompted, Piotr will literally spend several minutes explaining the behind the scenes effort that went into the animating the old movies, the techniques used by the artists to construct the backgrounds, and the sheer level of talent it takes to sync audio to hand-fucking-painted animation.

That, and the movies are just that gorgeous. Granted, the writing in the newer ones are usually better --the two of you opt to hop back and forth between old and new since there’s no way you’ll make it through every single Disney movie in one day--but the level of artistry in all of them leaves you absolutely speechless.

“Man, I’ve really been missing out!” you murmur, awestruck, as you watch the ‘Whole New World’ sequence in Aladdin. “This is amazing! How did they even do this?”

“Much of animation was done on computers at this point,” Piotr says. “It allows for art to move better with music, more creative freedom.”

“No kidding.” You can’t help but smile as you watch the magic carpet soar up into the clouds as the music swells. “This is really beautiful.”

“Da,” Piotr agrees softly.

And then he shifts closer to you, stretches his arms above his head, and lets one settle around your shoulders as he relaxes again.

Suddenly, your proximity to your boyfriend is a lot more interesting than the movie. You’re tucked against his side, sitting thigh to thigh, and his arm is warm and comfortably heavy on your shoulder.

You’re hit by a desire to kiss him --and it suddenly occurs to you that there’s nothing stopping you. The two of you are in a relationship, there’s no one around that would make doing it ‘inappropriate,’ and you’re practically on a quasi-date. There’s never been a better time for it.

You wriggle into his lap until you’re straddling him, propped up on your knees --he’s so much taller than you that at times it’s almost ridiculous--and loop your arms around his next before leaning into kiss him.

Piotr’s hands flit up and down your arms, your shoulders, and your sides before settling at your waist. He uses his hold on you to pull you close, bringing the two of you flush together.

You let out a happy sigh when he wraps his muscular arms around you, effectively cradling you against his burly chest, and kiss him harder. You’ve been pining for him for so long, and now that the two of you are together you never want to stop kissing him. Touching him. Being around him.

“Is this your way of saying that you don’t want to watch movie anymore?” Piotr asks, a little breathless, when the kiss breaks.

“No,” you murmur as you kiss the bridge of his nose. “I just love you.”

His cheeks flush a lovely shade of rose as he smiles sweetly at you. “I love you too, myshka.”

You turn around and settle in his lap to finish watching the movie, snuggled happily in his arms.

This. Life definitely doesn’t get better than this.

Except it does. The universe is hellbent on proving you wrong today, and you’re loving every moment of it.

Once the film finishes, Piotr suggests that the two of you take a stroll through the gardens to get your blood flowing.

The carefully arranged and tended to patches of flowers and bushes look utterly wonderful in the golden, early evening light. A soft breeze stirs the late spring air, keeping everything perfectly comfortable as the two of you walk along the gravel pathways.

Piotr’s hand in solid and warm around yours, and you never expected such a small, simple form of contact to feel so exhilarating. You almost can’t believe that it’s real, that he’s really your boyfriend now and really loves you.

The two of you talk about whatever comes to mind --mostly the movies you’ve been watching--and take your time as you meander around the grounds of Xavier’s. There’s no reason to hurry; the students and teachers won’t be back from their beach trip for a few more hours, there aren’t any missions that need responding to, and with Wade out of the house on one of his jobs there aren’t any explosions or other disasters to shatter the easy, peaceful lull in the air.

“I’ve really enjoyed today,” you say quietly as you squeeze Piotr’s hand.

“So have I, dorogaya moya. This has been... wonderful.” He stops --slowly enough that you don’t stumble or jerk back--and bends down to kiss you.

You smile into the kiss, and rest one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek.

It’s absolutely magical. Maybe the Disney movies have been rubbing off on your life.

“Think we have time for one more movie?” you ask when he pulls back.

“I think so,” he says with a soft, happy smile.

“Cool.” You grin giddily as you walk back to the house, hand in hand, the promise of more quiet, intimate, magic-filled time together beckoning alluringly.

This. Life doesn’t get better than this.

But That Makes You Family Pt. 3

Genre: Fan Fiction (Animal Kingdom) Pairing: Craig Cody/OFC Warnings: Drinking, Death, Sexual Content, Language, Drugs Rating: R Length: Chaptered Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Once again thank you for those who have given feedback. 

Catch Up Here

“Olivia has been avoiding me.” Craig made his declaration, hands on his hips.

“Can you blame her?” Pope looked over his shoulder at him, little to no interest in his tone.

“Dude, she's been busy. Lay off.” Deran defended, as Craig knew he would.

“Busy? Ah yeah?” Craig pressed, leaning against the counter top, he singled out Deran. “And how many times have you saw her, since she was here? Huh?”

Deran had met Olivia the last three mornings, the surf was good, and they'd had a standing appointment with the cove. Craig knew it, everybody knew it. They had been meeting there since they were kids, setting out before the sun was up.

“Once or twice.” Deran shrugged.

“Once or twice.” Craig repeated, his annoyance growing. She'd told him that they would discuss him meeting Corbin, how were they to discuss shit if she didn't return his calls. “And how many times have you saw Corbin?”

“Once or twice.” Deran kept his answer.

Cornering Deran had been the only way Craig knew how to deal with the news Olivia had delivered, since then Craig had been doing everything he could to try and intentionally piss off his little brother. Whatever, Deran had better things to do than watch Craig throw a tantrum. If he wanted to see his kid, the rules were simple. Grow a pair. Get somewhat sober. Go see him.

“Once or twice. That's real fucking nice.” Craig slapped his hands together.

“If you're that upset go talk to her.” Pope chimed in with the obvious. Craig obviously knew where she was. “Stop being a big baby and go talk to her. But be nice, otherwise you're going to ruin it.”

Pope's advice to talk with Olivia had been straightforward and didn't leave much room for interpretation, unless you were Craig. Parked on the side of the street, he had a clear view of the house. Parked next to the garage on a spare patch of land was a small air stream trailer, a jetset blue Jeep Renegade – with Connecticut plates. A well manicured lawn with the perfectly maintained walk way made the two story house look homey and inviting.

Through the windows Craig couldn't see too much, only a few shapes and shadows through the sheer curtains that were expertly covering the windows. If he sat here long enough he may gather the courage to text Olivia, asking her to come out and meet him.

He'd invite her out, driving down to the strand, or maybe they'd drive and drive until they reached he hills. He'd vent about Smurf and J, tell her about life in general, and how much he had missed her. In return she'd tell him about life on the east coast, how she missed him, and what she hated the most about winters. They'd be free and able to talk and talk. Eventually, he'd ask about Corbin and Olivia would tell him everything he needed or wanted to know. Craig would turn around, driving her back, before he left she'd lean over the side of the scout and kiss his cheek. Waving him off in the rising sun.

Holding his phone, Craig sat watching the house. What if he asked her to come out and she didn't want to see him?

Lime green wasn't the best colour to try and hide, especially sitting on the side of the cul-de-sac. Craig Cody had never been the brightest man, despite that, he was a career criminal surely he had enough sense to know they could spot him from space in that thing. Had his mother taught him nothing?

It was getting late, the sun had set and the sky was that rich blue that crept into black, the first few stars of the night were beginning to show. He had been sitting there for the better part of two hours, Craig wasn't known to be a patient man.

“Olivia.” her mother sauntered into the den where her daughter and grandson were on the sofa, watching whatever sitcom was currently running. “Mind taking out the trash?” She nodded toward the door. “Now?”

“I can do it.” Corbin sat up.

“No, you're going to get ready for bed. I'll do it.” Olivia kissed the top of his head, messing up his shaggy brown locks. She had been at him for months to cut his hair, but he liked it long. The apple didn't fall far.

Glancing out the window, Olivia sighed. She could have gone out by now, she should have gone out by now. Craig was stupid enough to sit on the side of the street, no doubt having put a pound of coke up his nose by now, waiting would do him some good.

Across the street the door opened, a quick flood of light emerging from the house, in the middle was a distorted shadow, and then the porch light illuminated the front of the house. Motion censored. Craig should have known, Carolyn Bridges was always a bit of a hippie. One of the keep the planet clean and energy efficient types.

Through the shadows of the street lights, Craig shifted uneasily in the driver's seat, he had a clear view of Olivia. Marching toward him, her eyes locked on his the closer she got. Wrapped in a soft shawl, her flip flops smacked against the pavement on the way to the car.

"When did you take up stalking?" She asked tapping the hood of the scout.

Sitting up, Craig leaned over the door, his hair partially blocking his view. "I was in the neighbourhood."

"Sure. Right." Olivia nodded halfhearted. "Get out of the car, Craig."

Olivia stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for Craig. He was moving at a snail's pace, for somebody with legs that long he sure took a while. Standing beside the scout, Craig shoved his hands in his pockets waiting for the scolding.

"Come on." she nodded toward the air stream parked in the corner of the yard.

“Huh?”

“Come on, I want to talk. But not out here.” Olivia gestured to the wide open street. In code it meant she didn't want nosy little boys gawking out bedroom windows. Olivia was buying her time on Craig and Corbin. Craig could be staved off until the right time. Corbin on the other hand was best left in the dark, until the time was right.

“He's home?”

“Yeah, but you're not going inside. Not right now.” Olivia pulled a key from her pocket, unlocking the trailer.

“Nice set of wheels ya got.” Craig commented looking over the small Jeep.

Olivia hummed. She liked it. “It got us here, it'll get us home. Gas is great in this thing.”

“I can't believe you drove from fucking Connecticut? Are you insane? What if you'd broke down?" Craig turned, looking down at her.

Olivia sighed, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension that was mounting. "But we didn't. Besides, if we had I would have called triple A."

"You couldn't be normal for once in your fucking life? Who takes a kid, an old trailer, and drives them across the country?"

"You'd be surprised how many people drive across the country. It's a great way to spend a summer vacation, besides this isn't old. It's vintage. And who are you to talk? Huh? You do shittier things every day, need I remind you that is why I have custody and you have never been allowed to meet my son?"

"Our." Craig mumbled, wisely shutting his mouth when Olivia glared at him.

Not another word, Craig ambled into the trailer behind Olivia. Stooping to clear the ceiling, they did not make these tin cans for tall people. Inside was cozy, if Craig were the type to use that word. A large bed lined the back wall, with a bunk in the front. Cupboards, a sink and stove lined one side. A small table with bench seats and a fridge along the other. The bright yellow and white paint scheme were set off by rich reds and warm browns. Craig was impressed.

“Welcome aboard.” Olivia moved some magazines off one of the benches making room for Craig.

“It's...nice.” Craig commented flopping onto the bench, the cushions were thick and comfortable. He thumbed through the stack of magazines on the table, gathering that they had been brought to entertain Corbin. There was a lack of electronic entertainment in here.

“Thanks, my dad helped me restore it. We took it all back to the original interior, only took six months.” Olivia boasted. “This is the first time we've had her out, really had her out.”

Craig lazily nodded, flipping through the latest issue of Motocross Action. Olivia had always bitched and whined about his bikes, she hated them. Craig had heard every excuse.

“Ugh, Corbin is obsessed with that magazine.” She groaned shaking her head.

“Does he have one?”

“Fuck no.” Olivia scoffed leaving her post holding up the counter. What kind of mother did Craig think she was? Smurf? Hell no. She had sense. "So," Olivia stood on her tip toes, reaching into a small space over the cupboard. Craig leaned back on the bench seat, enjoying the view. It was a rookie move, watching her shorts ride up. "May I ask why you're casing my parent's house?"

Grunting she gave a small jump and snatched the baggie she had been feeling for. Clutched in her hand, Olivia smiled triumphantly, showing Craig the bag of loose green. Sliding a pack of papers from her back pocket, she made herself comfortable on the other side of the folding table.

"I wasn't casing the place." Craig placed a shiny zippo on the table, his offering to the cause. Olivia's tongue darted across the edge of the paper, expertly rolling the joint. Her silence was stronger than words.

“My mom said she saw Pope, not long after Baz,” Olivia didn't bother to finish the sentence. What Carolyn hadn't told her daughter was that she saw the eldest Cody often. Andrew would come by the coffee shop that Carolyn owned. Once a week he would come in, sit in the same corner, and have his coffee.

“He told her that you were in Mexico. Doing a job?” She wasted no time getting to the good stuff.

Deran would tell her what Craig was up to, when she needed to know. Or if it was something that would suddenly leave her son fatherless, in another sense of the word. Most of the time, Olivia didn't want to know what they Codys were up to. If anything went sideways, she was better off never knowing. Mexico had never come up during her calls with Deran.

If Craig missing for a few weeks didn't filter into conversation then it meant one of two things. He was doing a job or there was a woman. Craig and Olivia were long over, never to begin again; Deran had decided that keeping those details from Olivia were for her own good. In some twisted way.

“Nah.” Craig answered shifting around out of awkwardness. “I was down there trying to get a business going, tequila.”

“A tequila business? Really? Wow.” Olivia laid one joint on the table, rolling another.

“Yeah, a friend and I went down. Didn't really get anything off the ground, but that's business.” Craig scratched his nose. He hadn't told Olivia about Renn and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about Nicky, although he was sure Deran had told her plenty.

“A friend.” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows. “Female friend?” Craig blushed whether he was aware or not. “Ah! You got a girlfriend, you're not telling me about, Craig Cody?” She teased.

“You uh, you seeing anybody?”

“I've had a boyfriend here and there.” Olivia answered sliding the first joint across the table. “You know how it is, every now and the you need to scratch that itch.” she winked.

“They all okay with Corbin?”

“Of course, I wouldn't bother to have someone around if they weren't good with him. Or if he didn't like them.”

“Good.” Craig's brow was furrowed and his eyes on his hands. “I'm never sure what to tell people, guess I don't tell them anything.”

“So you've never told your girlfriend? What's she going to think?” Olivia wasn't entirely surprised that Craig would keep this detail to himself.

“Naw, she isn't the mommy type. She wouldn't be a bitch about it or to him, but she isn't into the whole happy family, let's have kids thing. You know?” Craig tapped his knuckles on the table top. “Besides, we're not serious and she's out of town.”

“Hmm.” Olivia hummed picking up the joint and lighter.

She had never wanted to be that type either, funny how things change your plans. Lighting the joint, she waited for the right moment to take a puff.

“You been at Smurf's much? I thought about dropping by the other day, but wasn't sure you'd be there.”

Craig barked a laugh. He had been avoiding Smurf's as much as he could, all while watching the place like a hawk. Coming home to find Deran's father there had thrown a wrench into everybody's plans.

“Fuck no. I know that Deran talked to you and..."

"I know about Billy showing up." Olivia exhaled, the pungent smell of weed filling the trailer, in a white cloud. "Deran told me."

"Yeah, well, it's not a good idea for you to come around, Livvy. Not while that asshole is there."

"Then I won't come by the house." Oivia shrugged passing the joint to Craig.

Craig never thought he'd see this scene again, sprawled out with Olivia, huddled up in some space hiding from the outside world. A joint being passed back and forth between them, while all of their troubles left.

"Smurf if going to shit a brick, having Billy in her house." the idea of Smurf having no control over her household was tickling - perhaps it was the high.

"The good news is, she won't be worried about you showing up, now."

"Smurf doesn't have to worry about me. I don't want trouble, I'm simply here on vacation with my son." a coy smirk crossed Olivia's face. “You know that I'm harmless.”

Craig rolled his eyes. Olivia was harmless in the way a spider web was to a mosquito. She was there, taunting and waiting, one slip and you were caught up. She knew too much and Smurf didn't have the balls to do a damn thing about it. Not even Smurf was willing to cross the step-daughter of a District Attorney. Olivia had solidified her spot in Smurf's good graces, when she had her step-father go to bat for Pope. Andrew got off light with the jail time that he'd done, all thanks to Doug Bridges.

“Corbin and I are here for a nice vacation. I don't care about Smurf and her shit. If it weren't for Corbin, I doubt I'd even have the time for you.”

"Were you serious about me meeting him?" Blue eyes hooded and sincere, despite the glassy high. Craig wrinkled his nose, taking another puff from the joint, holding it out to Olivia. “I want to meet him, Livvy. Let me fucking meet him.”

Tilting her head to take a closer, more in depth look, Olivia took a puff, holding the smoke in her lungs. Blowing out a breath of smoke, she could see it now. The resemblance between Craig and her son. Corbin had the same hooded eyes, bright blue and sparkling. His nose and smile, all Craig. Even his wild mess of long hair, was Craig.

"Yes, but first there are some rules." Olivia leaned forward, hovering over the table and Craig. "It's late, we'll talk about this later. Go home."

Standing Olivia walked to the door, pushing it open with a grunt she stood holding the metal door. Taking the hint Craig slowly gathered himself and rose to his feet, stooping until he was out the door and could return to full height.

"Can I..."

"Night, Craig." Olivia waved and pulled the door shut.

Left in the yard, Craig cursed and kicked at the paved drive way. So that's how she was going to do this? Invite him in and then toss him out? Who did she think she was, anyway?

@noobchic, @ivarlothbroks, @sparklemichele, @klinger-verseau  , @hows-my-hair  , @grungyblonde , @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly - if anybody else wants a tag, feel free to ask :)

This Month On The Farm: July 2020

July's weather was full-on summer complete with heat, humidity, and lots o' sunshine.  And surprisingly, a lack of mosquitoes.  Hooray for that!  We did receive some rain and when we did, oh boy was it a lot.

Tents - Not Just For Camping

As you can see in the photo above, we decided to make use of a couple of our extra craft show tents and set them up on the upper and lower decks.  On the upper deck it's wide open, used just for rain cover and shade (Ollie is afraid of the netting walls so we left them off).  On the lower deck we used the netting walls and put our outdoor table and chairs inside so we can enjoy eating or sitting outside without bugs attacking.  Ollie, as noted, is afraid of the walls but if he's sitting in his tower with me by his side, he deals with it ok.

gutters and rain barrel installed!

Barrels Of Rain

Woo hoo!  Jay was able to get the gutters installed on the outbuildings and the rain barrels are up and working.  This has been on our "someday" list for years.  Years!  We've been able to successfully use the barrels to water the garden through most of the month, only needing to resort to our well water a couple of times.

Harvesting

As I've mentioned (probably too many times), our garden is mostly shaded.  We receive morning sun over about 70% of it and afternoon sun for a few hours over it all, and it's fully shaded the remainder of the day.  And so, our harvesting starts late.  Then, of course, we had the infamous whistle pig debacle that set us back a bit but we are now enjoying the fruits of our labor.

Green beans are coming in by the bushel.  I know that many people don't enjoy frozen green beans but we do, so I grow enough to enjoy fresh weekly as well as enough to put up in the freezer for winter and springtime eating.  I planted 3 types this year: Blue Lake, Red Noodle, and Calima Bush Beans.  The Red Noodle are still small and green but this is the first year we've planted them so, fingers crossed, they are delicious.

We finally have tomatoes!!!  Well, we finally have ripe tomatoes!  We have a ton, I mean TON, of green tomatoes amidst the 25 plants so we will definitely have plenty for fresh eating as well as for oven-drying to freeze for sauce during the winter.

We are also harvesting onions, cabbage, kale, swiss chard, mixed greens, arugula, microgreens, peppers (jalapeno, ancho, and bell), summer squash, zucchini, the last of the peas, beets, blueberries, blackberries, herbs and radish.

our sweet potato hill

Sadly, our pear and asian pear trees did not do well this year.  I've ordered new "partners" for them (and the paw paw tree) so our hope is we will be swimming in their fruits in a couple of years!  And our whistle pig took out all of our summer broccoli and cauliflower so we won't be harvesting either of those until fall.

At the start of the season I would grab a big bowl from the cupboard and Ollie and I would head to the garden to harvest whatever was ready.  One day, as my bowl was so full the veggies were spilling out of it, Jay looked at me and said "you need a bucket or a basket or something".  I said "I know.  Someone I follow on Instagram just posted a picture of her harvest basket that her husband made.  It was nice - metal mesh and wood sides and handle.  You're too busy though, so maybe next year."  I didn't give it another thought.

Later in the week Jay comes out of his shop holding the PERFECT harvest basket.  He had made it in between other projects he was working on.  Such a sweet gift! 

So now, Ollie and I take our harvest basket with us to the garden on our daily check-in.

looking up one of our mammoth sunflowers

the 2 mammoth sunflowers that survived the whistle pig feast are on the left

Homestead Projects

We have a list of projects that we are hoping to accomplish before fall.  We've managed to check off some of the easier projects, but not so much the larger projects.  Here's what we're chipping away at:

paint the dining room (done)

stain the back deck (done)

paint the living room

fix columns and lay new flooring on one of the two front porches (second porch will be done next year)

paint 2 sides of the house (same color, just refreshing it - the other 2 sides will be done next year)

install fence around the garden (temporarily done - permanent fencing will be done next spring)

build and install a new outdoor pole light in the front yard

build a small nesting box area/water station for garden (so when the chickens are tasked with the garden fall clean-up, they have a place to lay eggs)

chop and stack wood for the woodstove in the shop (done although we may chop a bit more)

install gutters on the outbuildings and hook-up rain barrels (done)

create a raised bed hoop house for one of our garden beds so we can grow greens through late fall/early winter (done for now - we purchased/found the items needed to make this in fall)

Animals

We are not going to add any more animals to the homestead for now and that includes chickens.  The current flock will get smaller, gradually, as the inevitable happens.  We had one pass away this week, she was one of the older girls, and we fully anticipate a few more passing this year from old age.  It certainly doesn't get any easier to deal with death, but at least we have developed a bit of a plan now, of keeping them safe and comfortable during the process.  We also know more about signs, because with chickens, they usually mask illness.  This helps us so we can watch closer and try to make sure they are protected.  

Death is one of the parts of having animals that is so difficult.  Unfortunately, as birds become sick and/or begin the dying process, some of the others can become very cannibalistic.  It's not a pretty sight.  So once we see that one of the girls isn't feeling well, we are able to remove them, but not totally, from the flock.  They are social creatures, so full removal seems to make them stressed and upset.  Instead, we make sure they are separated by a fence allowing them to still feel a part of the flock without getting incessantly pecked at and stepped on.  And no, we don't let them suffer.  If there's any sign of that, and we've done all we can do to make them well, we step in.  

Our overall plan is to get out of the egg-selling business and keep a very small flock (6-8 girls).  With a flock of 24 girls, it will take some time for the flock to naturally reduce (we're down from the 32 we had last year), so we won't be bringing in any chicks until we have less then 8 girls.

zucchini chocolate chip muffins

What Do You Do With All Of That Zucchini?

Isn't this the question you ask yourself every single year?  I always think I have a plan to keep up with it but I struggle by August.  I give it a heck of an effort though.  Here's what we've been doing with our zucchini:

slicing it lengthwise and grilling it (alternatively, you could broil or bake it).  We both love it.  Jay sprinkles a bit of parmesan on his and I like mine plain.  It's sooooo juicy and delicious.

cutting it into chunks and sautéing it with onions and corn.  I add a bit of butter to Jay's and mine is plain.  We just love the combination.

stuffing it.  As noted in this weekending post (at the bottom), I always enjoy coming up with new stuffing ideas.  The key is to bake, boil, or grill the scooped out zucchini halves before you fill and bake them so they are nice and soft once finished.

making our very favorite chocolate zucchini cake. Even my husband who isn't the world's biggest chocolate fan LOVES both versions.  The original version is here.  The healthier/reduced oil and sugar version is here.

making Kate's recipe for healthier zucchini bread.

making zucchini and chocolate chip muffins.  They are ah-mazing!  I just realized I've never shared the recipe here.  I'll try to get that on the blog!

making zucchini noodles with homemade pesto.  Soooo good!

adding zucchini to grilled kebabs.  (everything gets marinated in italian dressing first)

adding zucchini to soups such as minestrone.

making zucchini cobbler.  (tastes just like apple cobbler)

making veggie stew.  I use zucchini and whatever fresh veg is in the garden to make stew as the temps begin to drop in the fall.

I'm not a big fan of eating it raw (there's a weirdness to it) or as zucchini "fries", so those didn't make the list.  We've made zucchini pickles in the past but we aren't huge pickle eaters so I haven't been making them.  

I'd love to hear your family's favorite ways to eat zucchini!

Oliver, my garden/kitchen/preserving/everything helper

Preserving, Or, What We'll Be Eating This Winter

Since our garden is now in full swing, the preserving process has finally begun!  

Green beans - as noted above, they are being put up in the freezer weekly.

Peppers - so far we've only collected enough jalapeno's to preserve, so those have been made into pickled jalapeno rings.

Relish - our cucumbers are struggling this year.  I've never had an issue with cukes, so I'm not sure what's happening.  So we purchased some cucumbers from the farmer's market and, along with our bell peppers and onions we'll can enough relish for my husband to enjoy with his occasional hot dog lunch.

Zucchini - I did freeze some grated zucchini (portioned into 2 cup servings) that I can add to muffins, quick breads, etc.

Onions - we are drying quite a few and then I'll chop and freeze the remainder.

How do you figure out how much veggies to preserve?  This is a question I receive a lot.  For us, this is how I plan it.  We typically rotate the same dishes all winter long so I can usually predict how often during the week we'll eat veggies such as green beans, broccoli, winter squash, tomato sauce, etc.  I then times that by how many weeks we'll need preserved food and that's how I calculate it.  So, as an example, I plan on serving green beans twice a week for 28 weeks which means I will need to freeze 56 bags of green beans (bagged in single-serving sizes).  

It gets a bit more difficult with carrots, corn, onions, canned chopped tomatoes, and peppers because I use them on their own as well as in many different dishes.  Over time, through trial and error, I've made it so I can get pretty close.  For the frozen veggies, I flash-freeze them and then store them in large, gallon-size bags, so I can just take out what I need when I'm cooking.

That's July around the homestead!

This Month On The Farm: July 2020 was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)