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rum-and-shattered-dreams · 2 years

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Gravity Falls 10th Anniversary List O’ Favorite Things:

OK, Let’s GO! @gf10yearslaterzine, thanks for the questions/prompts!

1. Favorite Character:

At first, it was:

^Because of that moment^

I started watching shortly after NWHS aired (with no knowledge of the emotions train that would hit when I got to that episode) because I’d seen a few people talking about how funny, cute, and smart Gravity Falls was and instantly liked the girl who made a light-up sweater. Instead of marathoning it, I saved it to watch an episode every so often as a fun pick-me-up for after watching more dramatic/sad/emotional things and eventually caught up right around when ATOTS aired.

Then this happened:

And Ford became my favorite and the show became a hyperfixation. This nerd who survived thirty years of what drove Fiddleford to erase his memory from a few seconds of exposure and who wrote things like Trust No One, who shoots first and asks questions later, and who is so full of trauma just... Played happily along with Giggle Time Bouncy Boots. He was still so passionate for the things he loved, still ready to be silly, just wanted to have a friend because he’d felt alone for so long, and was still trying to do good for the world despite everything. He had his flaws and misconceptions but ultimately, this nerd was doing the best he could with what he had.

Also, I’ve written about this before but it meant a lot, personally, to see his character type allowed to be one of the heroes where most media would villainize someone like him.

Answers for the rest of the questions (and a plaidypus drawing) are under the cut (because it’s easier for my brain to process answering them together and I don’t want to take up a ton of dash space):

2. Favorite Journal Page:

Oof. A Tough one. There are so many hilarious or cute or just well put-together pages. But, I’m going to go with the last two-page spread because it’s so nice to see them all happy like this:

Honorable mention to this one too just because I love the artwork for it:

Oh! and a third mention to the MY MUSE WAS A MONSTER page for the sheer rawness of it.

3. Favorite Monster/Creature:

The plaidypus! So much cute...

4. Favorite Location:

The deep/enchanted forest areas. They’re so pretty.

5. Favorite Episode:

To tie in with the favorite character prompt:

We get to see the family work together, Weird Al is there, Grenda gets to weaponize an armchair, and we get to see who Ford is now, not from the past, not from the journal, and not fresh out of the nightmare realm. Bonus points for Stan apologizing to Dipper for making fun of him. I feel like that was a huge character growth moment for him and more reason to love his character too.

6. Funniest Joke:

Oh man. I’m not sure what to pick here. There’s the classic ones that became memes, of course, but there are also things like Dipper’s internet history and Mabel and the leaf blower.

Hmm. I’m going to go with basically the entire premise of this:

Getting bored while falling in the bottomless pit.

It’s personally hilarious because on a trip in 2010, a few friends and I saw a well on the top of a mountain and wondered how deep that would have to be if there wasn’t a spring or something. That led to the idea of “at what point do you stop screaming and get hungry or bored or need to sleep when falling into a bottomless pit.” So this episode was basically our thoughts on it.

7. Favorite Game/Book/Merch:

Oof another tough one because, while Journal 3 is probably my favorite, I want to give a shout out to:

I love that it gave us more stories. We got more Pacifica development, creepy faceless Mabel, a post-Weirdmageddon Stan and Ford adventure with bonus Mabel in the multiverse, a smol Stans adventure, and *gestures to all of Comix Up. I mean, how could you not love some Dipper and Pacifica bonding, Stan finding out that Ford is an interdimensional criminal, Baby Stan and Ford bonding, and almost the entire cast hilariously stuck in anime schoolgirl uniforms and thrown into various other comic book personas.

8. Favorite Song:

Definitely:

Because that whole karaoke thing was adorable. And this actually leads into...

9. Favorite Quote:

“Karaoke is not about sounding good, it's about sounding terrible, TOGETHER.”

The sentiment is applicable to so many things. It’s not about being good or perfect, it’s about throwing expectations and self-consciousness out the window to have honest fun with the people you love.

10. A Special Memory or Moment About Gravity Falls:

Meeting so many incredible people through the fandom; People I’m friends offline with now and who I still chat with about life. It’s been one of the best experiences of my life getting to talk to so many awesome people, see your creative content, and to create my own (This show made me start drawing again and I’ve gotten hundreds of thousands of words in writing practice thanks to writing fics! Plus cosplaying and getting to meet other cosplayers! So much fun!). Thank you to everyone who helped make this show possible!

#gravity falls #gravity falls 10th anniversary #gravity falls 10 years later #gravity falls favorites #mo's ramblings and such

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starzie · 5 months

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I wish I could talk about my stories more, but I'm just too secretive.

Been thinking about it lately because I'm feeling inspired to work on them.

I have about six stories; The first five used to be one story, that I kept changing and reworking until it kept getting divided. Been working on that since I was 16. Had to come up with working titles for all of them, to keep my files sorted. Let's see:

Oni Story

Shadow in Red

Madness

Ivy Vines

? (this one is blank I don't remember why)

Rearrange each first letter, and you get MISO. Whenever I write scenes that are use more than one story/world, I call it the MISO AU I really need to write the actual stories....

The original story that each one stems from, took place in three different times: The Backstory; The Journey; And The Epilogue. The plot revolved around the "main character", (Avasa), going missing in a pocket dimension. The Backstory was about how she got there; The journey involved her various friends and loved ones trying to find her, and befriending each other in the process; The Epilogue, they did find her, and now she has to live in a changed world.

Back then I really didn't know how to write for it. The character sheets, writing, and actual comic were always three different things too.

So I kept simplifying it, changing things around, and going in different directions until I ended up with so many different stories.

Ivy Vines, although an anthology, would be the closest one to the original story; Only it's about following the main character into the pocket dimension.

But the protagonist from Madness, (Bayla), is the most similar to Avasa.

edit: I just started talking about my stories from here lol

Madness is a romance series, about a starseer, Bayla, often hired for divinations. Although she's a(n unofficial) matchmaker, any romance of her own is doomed to tragically fail. Usually from the same things.

A little comic I made a while ago for fun ;p Small crossover, since Scarlett is there

Oni Story, is an adventure comic about two vagabond Oni, Joshua and Damien. Damien, the blue oni, suffering from amnesia, has forgotten his birthplace and family name. With the help of Joshua, the red oni, the two set out to find answers. (Haven't been working on this one lately, because it requires research on Japan-- Which I just haven't had time to do--)

Drawing from 2016. I had these characters for a while

Shadow in Red follows our protagonist, Scarlett (Himura), as she navigates her various relationships, while being haunted by a cursed mask. A supernatural action series with heavy drama.

I've been working on this series the most. The drawing on the pink paper, I did last week. Plus some concept art, for the mask villain. If you squint your eyes, the face changes. Scary

So that's all the stories that stemmed from the one I wrote when I was 16. None are finished, but I'm working on them. At a snail's pace 🐌

But! Aside from that, I'm also working on a new story, that has nothing to do with the other ones. Shoot. I've been working on it since the inital lockdowns. So about 3 years now.

My sixth story is called:

6. 3lone Prompt*: *Pronounced However

In 3lone Prompt, our protagonist is a clone of The Original Sorceress. Her body, made out of the remains of her body. She is, and is not The Original Sorceress. Our protagonist has no name of her own, but goes by [6], (Pronounce it however you want).

[6] encounters remnants of The Sorceress's past she must resolve; While unraveling the mystery that is The Original Sorceress's life story.

Collected a few sketches/doodles of [6] and cleaned them up. She has an ocean theme.

Oof. Didn't think I'd take this long to make this post. Finally at the thing I wanna talk about

3lone Prompt was largely inspired by RPG video games, in a meta sense

What do you do when you finish the story? All the bosses are beaten, peace is brought to the land-- What if someone else opens your file to play it? This someone has never played the game before, doesn't get a lot of what is being referenced; But can sort of piece it together. What if it was you but you forgot everything

(Was thinking about this the other day.) Around 2007, I played Pokémon Pearl, and finished it. I loved the game a lot, so even when the story was over, I explored the areas again. And again. One thing that stood out was the villain's headquarters. It's in Veilstone City, and the grunts still curse your name whenever you show up. You can climb the floors, and use the teleporters, but you really have no business being there anymore.

There's something really quiet about that kind of setting. You have everything you need, to travel wherever you want to go, but nothing you must do. Almost like a forgotten world. The story's over but the music still plays

For 3lone Prompt, I tried to build on that thought. (But it's not literally a video game, just a high fantasy setting.) The story focuses on past lives, and what could have occurred during.

In this meta sense, [6] would have "spawned" near the end game, with all the items. Meaning she has all The Sorceress's abilities; but no idea how to use them. She doesn't even know what her main objective is.

Can she piece together the clues? Let us find out!

#starzoc #starzie #my art #my stories #writing #talking aboot my art #long post #like really long this is your warning before you click read more

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beywomen-week · 1 year

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Hello and welcome to Beywomen Week! Aka Feminism February, aka Bladies Week. This is an event made to appreciate the women of the beyblade metal fight saga!

The event will be running from this February 12th to February 18th. Here are the prompts!

February 12: Madoka | Stardust | Responsibility

February 13: Hikaru | Clapping | Anger

February 14: Mei-Mei | Collapse | Insecurity

February 15: Lera | Bruising | Righteousness

February 16: Sophie | Digging Deeper | Maturity/Womanhood

February 17: Selene | Maps | Identity

February 18: Ren/Maru/Free Day | Trophy | Belonging

Now if you notice this prompt list contains three prompts for each day, but you dont have to pair them all together or even do them at all (including the character ones). These prompts are just suggestions, most of the event is just to appreciate the girls of the series. As such, I did list the main girls that appear in the series, but ocs and trans headcanons are also very welcome.

I will be trying to reblog and share whatever people make for this event but I will not share any sexual or sexualized or innappropriate content of any of these characters. I know one of the prompts is maturity but that is not me prompting you to draw a character naked, alright? Do that and im blocking you.

Also, I want to make it clear that this event is meant to be focused on the girls. While you can write and draw or make the gorls interact with the boys, of course, the focus should lie with the girls, they shouldnt just be marvelling at what a guy does or something. The goal for this event is to celebrate these women who got shafted by the narrative and constantly had their arcs either never appear or be cut short. Please focus on them and on characterizing them.

Oof, now that thats all out of the way, i can just say im teally looking forward to this and hope youll participate! I already know im going to be fumbling a bit to get through it all. And hey, if you only participate in one day even, id still love to see it.

Also i might remake the prompt image. I know it looks awful. Im lazy. I just wanted to announce the week.

Tags for this week btw are "beywomen week" and "bladies week" depending on how willing you are to be a clown

#beywomen week #bladies week #beyblade #beyblade metal fight #metal fight beyblade #mfb #beyblade metal fusion #beyblade metal masters #beyblade metal fury #prompt list #hey im looking forward to this yall!!!! lemme know if youve got any questions or anything

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ahoge-fish · 2 years

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🍀 For the ask game? ~ @flowers-n-felines

(Also hi Alex has such a pretty design she's stunning (/platonic) and Jotaro is a lucky guy to have someone as wonderful as her)

🍀Do they believe in luck? Are they lucky?

(AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH!! This means a lot to me uwu💖💖💖 *sob sob sob* After 8 years of hiding his crush for her, he finally got what he wanted the most :''))

Let's say that Alex believes more in coincidences and destiny than luck. She'll think of coincidences when unexpected practical events happen, such as finding money on the street or doing something that got her out of a dangerous situation. In the last one only when she's not confident enough in doing that action, otherwise she'll be like:

"My God, I'm such a pro at this."

Instead she believes in destiny when good events affect her emotionally, such as meeting Jotaro, meeting the Crusaders, saving Holly, meeting Luis and all things like those.

But she thinks that good luck charms are very cute and even has some of them around the house.

Edit: oof I forgot to answer the second question-

Is she lucky? Well, as you can see from the draw she can get very lucky in life-death situation, getting out of them by miracle and in one piece. No one knows how's that possible, but as I said in a previous post, she need someone to stop her from doing her bullshits even tho she always get out alive from those.

But always as you can see from the photo, in other situations she isn't very lucky. In games where she needs luck, or in lottery tickets and other things like these her luck always goes to 0. She gets very enthusiastic when she gets some in those though.

OC prompts here!

#•🐠 answers•#alexandra parker #jjba #jjba oc #OC game

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seaselkie · 1 year

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🌀❤ 2, 5, 15, 26 ❤🌀

Aaaah okay hi. Oof some good ones but also some tricky ones to answer. Sorry, this will be long 🤪

2. When you’re writing a new story, what is the one thing you need to know before you can start?

Unhelpfully, this depends.

The simplest, shortest answer is I mostly need to start with the human element; generally people. A character or dynamic that I have a vested interest in exploring in some way. Sometimes I want to write for a world or larger concept, but mostly with me it is something human at heart.

The more in depth answer is that what I need to start with is often different. Sometimes the idea for a story will be built on some internal factor - a character confronting a fear, or achieving some goal. Sometimes the starting idea is external - wanting to explore a physical space or put people in a certain situation. And those things are just what inspiration happens to strike, sometimes at random and sometimes prompted by what I see or read in the source material.

For example:

When I wrote Raise the Black (Maze Runner), it was because I mostly wanted to write about 18th Century piracy and specifically sailing and tall ships. The rest of the story I built around that. When I wrote The Space Between Sleep (911) it was more that I wanted to explore paths of recovery after trauma and the many different forms that both trauma and love can take. (This is a popular draw for me, and many of my other fics have threads of this). I also have around 100k of a Teen Wolf fic that has never seen the light of day which exists purely because I had one character-oriented idea and it needed a lot of set up to get there.

5. How do you know when a story is “done”?

The short answer to this is closure.

Whatever the story set out to do, when you have been able to satisfy the sense of closure to the key characters and plot elements and questions that you have opened up, that is perhaps a good indicator. (Closure, is also not in conflict with an open ending. I think you can have an open ending, in many ways, while still feeling like you have resolved what you need to).

The longer answer to this is I think is trickier.

First off, because as my hard-drive will confirm, I am crap at knowing when a story needs to stop. I just keep adding to them and realising theres way more to tell than the small idea I started with. I also think, though, that stories are never really done, or over, but that authors have to pick a point to stop telling them. Part of that is, perhaps, knowing when you have addressed and resolved the things you set out to, and knowing when something else is part of an entirely new story instead of this one.

Examples again - When I wrote The Last Hearth (GoT) it was very much about that one conversation between two sisters. When I had addressed the things I set out to, the scene could come to an end. Shape of Grief (Maze Runner) was about exploring loss and pain and following that down a tragic path. The story I am currently working on, an aralas lotr brainrot, started on a few ideas spread out over time, and there are more dynamics involved than just two people so it encompasses much more in the telling. Ultimately all those I consider complete when they provide the closure for the threads I started pulling on, even if the endings aren't all neatly tied, or especially happy.

15. How do you write a really good metaphor?

(First - I think that whether you did write a good one or not is ultimately up to the individual reader, and this is something I always say of writing generally. You can do all the hard work in the world, but ultimately, a reader's first impressions and interpretation of a story is their lived experience and nothing you say or try to correct about it afterwards can take away from that. It might contextualise it, or provide greater understanding, or might offer them another viewpoint, but their first feeling is something that they have every right to even if it is not what you as a writer intended.)

So short answer again, my personal 'good' metaphor is making it immersive and relatable but also being able to find a common thread to the audience.

To elaborate on that - (imo) a good metaphor is one that pulls from the world and the story around it. It is using language that your viewpoint/narrating characters would personally have a reference for because they understand or have experience with them. For instance, in a medieval world, you might not use words or phrases to do with computers, or even advanced science. Back then you wouldn't say someone "bluescreened" with shock or they felt as though they had been electrocuted because they have no reference for that terminology. Even within the same story or world, different characters have different experiences and they may think or relate to things in different terms. So whoever is telling your chapter or story, use metaphors that relate to them and make sense in their understanding of their world.

In some ways the tricky part could be being able to use metaphors that make sense to the character and their lives, but ones that don't leave the reader with no point of reference, especially in stories where the world, culture, character or whatever else are so departed from the reader's experiences.

So ultimately, what I think makes a metaphor good is embedding it in the world and having it make sense within the context of its story while being able to deliver that to readers.

26. How do you go about world building?

Lmao damn. Short answer: a piece at a time.

The long answer....(and boy did this take some time to think about)

I think it is some core essentials and ultimately people come to them in their own ways. For me its working out from wherever your starting point is - be that an opening scene, a line of dialogue, a character concept etc - and at every stage, asking questions about who, when, how, where, why etc to fill in a history and paint a picture. Sometimes you need to know one person's backstory before anything else, and other times that kind of individuality comes way later because first you need the larger picture of a corrupt government or something. So the starting blocks will be different for every author and for every story, but in its core form, to me at least, its slowly working outward, asking questions and finding answers that all form building blocks for the overall image.

(Like, most of us know Harry Potter started with a boy and his scar. Tolkien started with languages and a map. Percy Jackson came to life because Riordan wanted a hero with ADHD. The Scorpio Races was written because Stiefvater pictured a brutal beach horseback race. The world comes together a bit at a time from that starting idea).

I think then, a Part 2 to this answer, is actually writing it into a story, not just how you come up with it, and for me that is also: a piece at a time. Show, don't tell.

If you drop several paragraphs of backstory on your world in the opening pages - or even a wall of text in the middle - the chances are your readers will skim it and move on. Generally speaking, with a few exceptions, you don't want your story to lose momentum, and that is what happens when you take a time out to explain a lot of things.

So for me, I favour drip feeding information. Share the bits that are relevant when the story is served by knowing them. Sometimes that is letting the reader learn things at the same pace that your characters learn them. Not only is it more likely that the information will stay in their minds because its necessary and useful in the moment, but it can also help to embed them in the story and develop a stronger emotional attachment if they feel like they're living it in the same breaths as your characters.

All of this obviously just... my opinions on things 🤓

Damn Dreams you asked some hard ones. I hadn't stopped to think about some of this before so that was fun. Thank you!

Ask me author questions

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sysig · 3 years

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Day 29 - Tensions

#Requestober #My art #Vargas #Scriabin #Edgar #You could cut the tension with a knife! *B'dm tss*#The prompt for this one was some approximation of ''Edgar stopping Scriabin and Nny from attacking the other''#I considered a couple different poses - like Edgar pinning Nny's arms behind his back or holding Scriabin like he does in the update #I ended up only sketching this one tho! I'm pretty happy with it uwu #As much as I love hands I was struggling with them a bit this time :'D #I also forgot that Nny has claw hands lol he looks ridiculous #Gods I haven't drawn that man in over half a decade oof lol #I also decided that this was a nightmare rather than a real happening because I wanted to draw Scriabin's hair #Nny looks so tiny when he's next to these two #I also designed a simple graphic for his shirt but only got to show the left side of it owq It says ''Monster'' 'cause I was listening to it #'Cause it's me I like that Scriabin and Edgar are both touching and Nny is completely isolated in his silhouette uwu #He's close! But not that close :)#Everyone's so puffed up lol the hackles are quite high when knives are about #Understandable

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vnights · 3 years

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//and also I forgot about the twitter memes thing I will hopefully be able to get on that soon sorry folks

#ixi-mun #ooc #//hhhhhhhhhhhh #//Y I K E S SORRY FELLAS #//I NEEDA CATCH UP ON MY TIMBLR ACTIVITY REAL BAD ; ;#//ALSO GOT THEM DRAWING PROMPTS OOF #//ITLL ALL BE ANSWERED EVENTUALLY I PROMISE YOU

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 years

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when i grow up

(an "unintentional" prompt by @impishtubist that involved tiny Harry helping Sirius in the garage which evolved into this lil drabble... and also just a love letter to stay at home parents.)

"Padfoot, I'm you!" Harry had taken off his shirt like Sirius, his hat now turned backward in the spitting image of how Sirius was wearing his that day.

"This is the best day of my life, I think, second, to the day I married you, and when Harry was born, obviously," Sirius told Remus, grinning widely, as he walked towards Harry "Travel-Size me."

"Can I help you? I'm good at helping!"

July 1984

Despite the summer heat, and the warnings the weathermen had said over the muggle-radio Remus liked to play in the mornings, Sirius was outside working on his bike. Remus was also ignoring the heat warnings as he sat in the grass of their front yard, in a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up onto his shoulders, their toddler running around. Harry had on a pair of sunglasses, oscillating between drawing with chalk on the sidewalk, chasing birds that landed in the grass and playing his new favorite game of jump on Moony (one that was played whenever Remus sat on the ground).

"Oof," Remus groaned with a little extra force and Sirius looked over his shoulder from where he was crouched by his bike, Remus on his back and Harry very proud of having knocked him over.

"You alright, babe?" Sirius asked, his eyebrow raising in amusement.

"Oh, I'm just fine. Nothing a whole jar of healing paste wont fix later."

"Harry be gentle with Moony, he's fragile," Sirius put down his tool and stood up to walk over to the grass, not bothering to put his shirt back on

"What's fragile?" asked Harry squinting up at him, his sunglasses knocked off in the collision, but still happily Remus' stomach.

"I'm not--"

"It means he's like one of our dishes. Remember when we broke one?

"Crash!" Harry exclaimed

"Exactly." Sirius bent down to grab Harry's sunglasses, putting them back on his face, his toddler finally getting off Remus causing more sound effects from his husband that Harry found hilarious.

"Silly, Moony," Harry told him before running off again to grab a piece of chalk he left on the walkway.

"That's what they call me," Remus laughed softly

"Need a hand?"

"No, I'm just going to enjoy the view from down here," he said eyeing Sirius' bare torso with appreciation. Whenever Sirius worked on his bike, at some point his shirt came off. Sirius had barely stood up again when Harry collided with his legs, arms wrapping around his knee caps.

"Got you!"

"OH NO!" Sirius gasped, "Too bad you're no match for the tickle monster!" Sirius reached down, fingers wiggling against Harry's sides for a few moments before picking him up entirely and throwing him into the air. Sirius always caught him, but it didn't make it less amusing to watch Remus have mild-heart attacks.

"You know who else is fragile..." Remus told him below Harry's laughter as Sirius held him under one arm.

"I'm not, Moony! I'm big! I'm strong!" Harry told him, despite the blood rushing to his head from the position Sirius had him in. "Padfoot, what are you doing? Can I play?"

"Oh, just stuff on my bike, I can come play with you," Sirius said, Harry now back on the ground and rushing towards Sirius' bike to examine whatever was so interesting that it was keeping his godfather's attention

"Did we accidentally put a pepper-up potion in his lunch?" Remus asked, "Who's going to tell him that hot days are for sleeping the grass?"

"Probably you. Did you forget this is James-Never Sat Still Ever-Potter's kid?"

"Fair point. I--" but Remus stopped his sentence, and started to laugh, Sirius following his gaze towards Harry who was by Sirius' bike.

"Padfoot, I'm you!" Harry had taken off his shirt like Sirius, his hat now turned backward in the spitting image of how Sirius was wearing his that day.

"This is the best day of my life, I think, second, to the day I married you, and when Harry was born, obviously," Sirius told Remus, grinning widely, as he walked towards Harry "Travel-Size me."

"Can I help you? I'm good at helping!"

Sirius laughed, picking up a spare wrench that was lying by his bike and transfiguring it slightly smaller and lighter, before handing it to Harry, "For you, my love."

September 1990

"Hey, Moony?" Harry asked from the kitchen table where he was doing his homework. Remus was sat there with him as Sirius started cooking dinner, one of them better at keeping their 9-year-old on task and one of them better at not burning the house down. "What did you want to be when you grew up? When you were my age?"

"Oh, I...always wanted to be a teacher," Remus told him, leaning forward and putting his chin into the palm of his hands, "Sirius and your Dad even got me a briefcase when we graduated school with Professor RJ Lupin on it because they knew I'd be a teacher some day."

"No offense, but that's boring." Sirius laughed from his spot at the stove, turning to catch Remus' expression that had gone from whimsical to deadpan in a second, "I don't want to be a teacher. I'm supposed to think about what I want to be when I grow up and write a paragraph on it. But I only want to be a Quidditch player. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Most jobs are going to be work, Harry, hate to break it to you"

"Sirius, what's your job?"

"Oh, yeah, Sirius please explain to us your job," Remus teased and Sirius turned around fully crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, I stay at home."

"That's a job?" asked Harry, "But what do you do all day?"

"I...clean," Sirius offered, leaving out the part that he probably cleaned more than most other stay-at-home parents, "You know, take care of laundry and dishes and all that. I...make sure the yard is good, I send post and check in about money things. Pick you up from school, buy the groceries, that kind of stuff."

"All the time?" Harry looked at him in disbelief through round glasses

"Sometimes I'll work on my bike outside, or go for a drive. I'll go to the shops...you know when some days we have pastries here? It just kind of depends."

"So you get to do whatever you want all day?"

Sirius caught Remus' gaze that was boring holes into him, Sirius unsure of how to navigate this with their child who clearly was looking for a career he didn't have to do anything in.

"Sort of, but...I take care of things to."

"Do you get paid?"

"Well...no."

"So how do we have any money? I know it's not from teaching."

"Oh merlin help us..." muttered Remus, and looked at Sirius, "This one is all you."

Sirius laughed stepping closer to the table and wrapping his arms around Remus' shoulders, pulling his husband closer to him, "I won't bore you with money stuff, love but...my family had a lot of money and when they passed, it all became mine. So we're very lucky that I can stay home and--"

"Do what you want? That sounds brilliant," Harry nodded, "Do you have to wear pants?"

Remus laughed, "Sirius still wears pants," he told him, and Harry made a face. Parenting books forgot to mention that ten-year old boys preferred to have one item of clothing off at all times and Harry had taken to walking around in his boxers on the weekends.

"I wear pants, sorry. Non-negotiable."

"Still sounds better than anything else I've heard. You think I can do that when I grow up?"

December 1995

"Stop asking me about it!" Harry huffed in annoyance, not looking up from the magazine he was looking through, "I already told you I didn't know and you asking me questions isn't going to help me magically know."

"Oh, but that attitude will get you magically sent to your room," Remus told him firmly, "It was just a question, and one that it wouldn't hurt you to think about seriously."

Harry sighed and put his magazine down, "I don't want to think about it on school holiday. If I wanted to do that, I would've stayed at school."

"Harry..." Sirius said lightly, "We're just making conversation. I didn't know what I wanted to do when I was fifteen either. But it's kind of unfortunate that these exam scores are what matter."

"If you didn't know, why do I have to know? My marks are fine and I'll study for the OWL's and...I don't know, figure it out some other time."

"You're not interested in anything?" asked Remus, "You're top of your class in Defense."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry shrugged, "I'm interested in...Quidditch games. Oh, and sleeping, love that. And...I snogged a girl, that was pretty cool. I'm definitely interested in that... is there a snogging OWL?"

"No, but I would've been top of the--" started Sirius and Remus elbowed him, laughing slightly.

"Don't encourage this. There's no snogging OWL."

"I think the examiner board should reconsider. I think a lot of my year would be way more interested in that then History of Magic."

"I'll bring it up at the next staff meeting," Remus replied dryly.

"Thank you, that's all I ask." Harry told him, "Are we done now?"

"We're just asking you to think about...some options," Sirius finished, "That's it."

"I think I still like the idea of staying home and doing nothing all day. Except for...painting the kitchen and folding towels. Sounds nice." Harry said and looked at Sirius, "Can't I just hang out at home with you the rest of my life?"

"No." They said at the same time, Harry gasping in mock-offense.

"I am your child! I am hurt you don't want me here forever!" He put his hand to his chest, clutching invisible pearls, the icy teenage exterior finally softening.

"Harry, I love you, so very much," Sirius said, "And you are the messiest person I know. Get that together and we'll talk about you staying here forever."

"I can clean. Maybe."

"Think about it."

April 2004

"Good as new," Sirius said, coming from the back of Number 12 holding a baby blanket that Harry had accidentally used to much bleach on, the fabric turning hard and discolored.

"Thanks. That's the only one he likes and naptime would've been disastrous," Harry said, taking the blanket watching as his 8 month old crawled around on the floor of the sitting room. "You'll have to teach me that one. And also all your dish washing charms...I didn't know a family of three could make so many dishes all the time..."

"It's a learning curve. Anytime you want, kid. I'm here," Sirius said and bent down to pick up James raising him high in the air a few times, the tiny boy giggling. "Happy to have you anytime."

"Did you ever feel like you didn't know what the hell you were doing?"

Sirius laughed, "Harry, I still don't know what the hell I'm doing. Even less back then. Remember that stuffed dragon you had? We lost it so many times, I just ended up buying 10 for back-ups."

Harry grinned, "That's actually smart."

"You learn."

"I know I gave you a lot of shit about being able to do whatever you wanted...but it's not like I expected. The staying home thing."

"It get's easier..."

"I'm not sure that's true. I was a much easier baby than I was a 13 year old I think."

"I heard it come out of my mouth and immediately regretted it," Sirius grinned, holding James against his chest, "I think I meant to say that I wouldn't have wanted to do anything else, and...staying home with you was one of the best decisions I've ever made. Second to marrying Remus. And sitting next to your Dad on the train." Sirius said, "Take care of my grandbaby, let me know if you need anything."

Harry took James into his arms, handing his baby the blanket to hold, the little boy waving it briefly accompanied by squeals, "Did...you think I meant it? All those times I said I wanted to stay home with you?"

Sirius reached his hand out, palming the back of his godsons head gently. He looked older these days, and he could spot the tell-tale signs of lack of sleep on Harry's face. "I always hoped you did."

"Padfoot, I'm you!"

#wolfstar #raising harry #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #au #drabble #imp prompts #you're welcome

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 8)

(Do you ever just stare at something until you hate it? I've definitely done that with the chapter. Oof. You can read the nsfw, extended cut on AO3. Also, this is part 8, so if you haven't read the other parts, you might want to start over on AO3.)

---------

"I don't like this," Harry hissed at Hermione as he watched the aurors at the Ministry putting Draco in handcuffs.

She sighed, "I know you don't."

"They don't have to do that," he said, "He's not going to run." Draco's face twisted in pain as they wrenched his arms, "Careful," he growled, stepping toward them. "You don't have to hurt him-"

"Harry-" Hermione interrupted.

But Draco beat her to the punch, "It's alright," he said, his eyes holding Harry's. "It's alright," he added softly with a nod before the Aurors shoved him toward the doors where the holding cells were.

Instinctively he took a step to follow but Hermione grabbed his elbow, "Harry," she said in exasperation.

"I don't trust them," he said, turning around to glower at her. "I shouldn't have brought him-"

"Harry," she snapped, "Listen to me," she took his elbow and led him over to the side of the room. "You have no idea what I had to do to get us here, to get them to agree to giving him a trial at all, let alone to get them to give him a trial when he was a fugitive."

"But-"

"I have every precaution in place," she continued, "I have a solid case, and I have stellar record in the court."

"It's not you I don't trust," he protested, "it's the Ministry-"

(Read more below the cut)

She shook her head, "I know. But this is the only way and we both know it." He frowned and she continued, "You need to stop being irrational about this. I know that Draco Malfoy has always gotten under your skin and made you ignore your better judgement but you have to stop listening to him-"

"He's the reason we're here," he said bluntly. "I wanted to stay but he insisted I bring him back. If I hadn't listened to him we'd be eating lunch on the beach and I'd be ordering lemon trees,” he told her, heart twisting painfully at the thought.

She blinked at him then whispered, "Oh, Harry," in that soft, pitying way of hers like she'd just realized exactly what this was about. "You're in love with him."

He nodded miserably.

Hermione sighed and took his hand, "We're going to win."

"I hope you're right."

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

They were not going to win.

Harry could feel it in his gut, he could see it on the faces of the members of the Wizengamot as they heard testimonies, as they heard the cases both for and against Draco.

And Draco knew it, too. He sat next to Hermione, back ramrod straight, face carefully blank but Harry could see it in his eyes. The defeat, the acceptance.

When the speaker stood to read the sentencing, Harry's body coiled itself like a spring.

He read the list of charges against Draco and after each he pronounced, "We find the defendant, Draco Lucius Malfoy guilty."

Hermione sat with her jaw dropped in outrage and Harry wished that he could have been even half as surprised as she was at the outcome.

"For these crimes," the speaker continued, "The court sentences Draco Lucius Malfoy to a life sentence in Azkaban prison."

The court room erupted into a flurry of movement, cameras clicking and people talking as they made notes, the aurors started toward Draco and Harry knew he only had a matter of seconds before it was too late.

He stood and vaulted himself over the gate that kept the people watching the trial from those conducting it.

"Oy!" one of the aurors shouted at him but he ignored them and sprinted over to Draco.

"Harry-" Draco started.

"Do you trust me?" Harry asked.

"Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What-" Draco began but that was all he got out before Harry was grasping his elbow and apparating them out of the Ministry. The wards around the court room and ministry itself cracked and shattered like glass as he broke through them, imagining wrapping Draco in extra shields of protection as he did.

When he landed on the beach he was breathless, his body felt battered and sore but they weren't in that court anymore and the relief of being home was sharp and sweet.

"What did you do?" Draco gasped as he dropped to his knees next to him. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice tinged with panic. "Harry."

"Fine," he nodded. "Just winded."

"Then," Draco shoved him, "what. did. you. do?"

"What I had to," he panted, letting his head drop back in the sand as he tried to catch his breath and waited for the pain to subside. "I couldn't let them," he broke off, shaking his head and drawing in another breath, wincing as his rib cage expanded painfully.

"You-" Draco shook his head, "You complete and utter idiot! Take me back! You have to take me back," he said, looking around desperately.

"Never!" Harry protested, standing on wobbly legs. "I told you it wasn't fair. I told you they weren't going to give you a fair trial."

"Harry," the other man repeated, voice shaking as he reached out a trembling hand, "You can't."

"I can," he argued. "I literally just did."

"You have to take me back," Draco begged. "They'll never stop looking for me, they'll burn everything to the ground until they find me."

"They'll never find us here," he replied. "And if they do," he shrugged, "We'll go somewhere else. Hell, I'll start building it now and we'll have a place to take vacations."

"Do you hear yourself?" Draco asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Circe, Harry," he cursed. "What were you thinking?"

He stormed up toward the house knowing that Draco would follow, "What was I thinking? That I couldn't let you spend the rest of your life trapped in a dark, dingy cell with dementors sucking up any shred of joy you might ever think to feel!" Harry slammed the door open, "I was thinking that I couldn't imagine you trapped away from the sunlight, not when I've seen the way you soak up the sun on the beach. I was thinking that I couldn't let all of your gifts go to waste while you rotted away in a cell!" he hollered as he made his way to the bathroom and pulled out a pepper-up potion.

Draco was silent but Harry could feel the weight of Draco's eyes on him as he swallowed the pepper-up potion and ran himself a glass of water. Finally Draco said, "It's not that I'm not grateful, Harry. Salazar knows that I don't want to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban."

"Then why-"

"Think about it!" he exclaimed. "What kind of life are you giving yourself?"

"Don't I get a choice?" Harry asked, taking a step closer to him, "What about what I want?"

Draco shook his head, "You can't possibly want this! You are letting your compulsive need to save people ruin your life. Again."

The words sliced through Harry's core, gutting him. "That's not fair," he whispered.

"Life isn't fair!" he argued. "You know that better than most people. And you can't possibly want to spend the rest of your life away from your family and friends, away from the world you gave up everything to save."

"It's my choice," he replied stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't want you to play the martyr for me." Draco tugged at his hair in frustration, "I'm telling you that I'm not worth it!"

"I'm in love with you!" Harry finally shouted, all of the fear and adrenaline that he'd kept bottled up inside all morning exploded out of him.

The other man stared at him blankly for a long moment. "What?"

"I am in love with you," he said again.

He shook his head, "You stubborn, wonderful, perfect idiot," he whispered before he threw himself at Harry.

Their bodies and mouths crashed against one another, sharp teeth and tongues, and Harry clenched his fingers in Draco's shirt to drag him even closer. "Draco," he groaned into his mouth as his hands sought more of him, grasping desperately, tugging Draco's shirt from where it was tucked in his trousers so his fingers could slide along the smooth skin of Draco's back.

"Harry," he whimpered, like his name was a prayer. He tipped his head back and Harry's fingers dug into the flesh on his back as his lips and teeth covered Draco's jaw and neck. He arched into Harry, his fingers sliding into his hair as he held him close.

"Please," Harry begged into the soft, warm skin of Draco's neck.

Draco nodded, "Yes. Circe, yes. Harry," he breathed again and surely Harry had never heard his name before this moment because it had never sounded like that. It had never sounded like wonder, and desire, and acceptance before.

"There's no going back from this," Harry said, drawing back to search Draco's face. "You're mine from here on out," he said.

"And you're mine," Draco whispered, brushing his hand over Harry's cheek, thumb rubbing his temple.

"Yours," he promised, relief surging through him at the thought of belonging to the other man. "Yours," he whispered again, cupping Draco's face and kissing him softly, tenderly; pouring out all of the fear of loss, all of the longing, all of the things he'd kept trapped inside.

Draco drew back far enough to let them breathe and look at one another, "I hear you," he whispered.

A chill ran through Harry's entire body as he allowed the facade he'd built to protect himself dissolve, slipping off until there wasn't anything left. Willing Draco to see him, to know him.

"Harry," Draco breathed, his eyes searching for a long moment, "Mine," he whispered again, somehow still uncertain.

"Yours," he vowed, "From now until forever."

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

(If you enjoy smut and are 18+, you can read the rest of this chapter on AO3. If not, feel free to stop here! You won't miss any plot.)

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #Walk in the Sun #Veritaserum Prompt Fic #emotions are high #friends to lovers #falling in love #love confessions #read the rest of the chapter on AO3 for the smutty part #wandless magic #Harry Potter saves the day

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mtreebeardiles · 2 years

Note

And one for Evvy and Kaidan: “What are you doing up? Come to bed.”

Thanks again for the prompt! Hope you enjoy :) (Also on AO3)

Everett wasn't sure what it was, exactly, that made the new house so hard to sleep in.

They'd lived in it for nearly three months now, and almost every night he fell into the same rhythm of restlessness. Sometimes he made it to bed and lie there, positively brimming with energy and doing his best not to wake Kaidan; other times, like tonight, the hours got away from him and he grew engrossed in some project or movie or book out in the living room.

Maybe it was the fact that it wasn't a spaceship or station. The doors were doors, opening and shutting on actual hinges and not cycling through to ensure even pressure. No decontamination protocols, either. If Everett wanted to go outside he just… could. Wander right out in his sweats and a hoodie, shoes optional, breathe deep real air and look at the sky unfiltered through viewport glass. Gravity's pull constant, steady, maybe a touch heavier than he was used to. Weather. He remembered one night staying up just to watch the rain, tucked into the bay window seat of their bedroom, smiling at the fact that some memories could transform if given enough time and distance.

Maybe that was it -- the differences, the changes, the culmination of so many experiences transporting him from that anxious boy who always had his hackles up, who saw Earth less like a home and more like a battlefield long before he wound up on one as a soldier, to… to who he was now.

Everett Shepard and, within the next year, Everett Alenko-Shepard. The thought had his smile widening, the words of the book before him growing indistinct as he became lost in thought. No title, no need to posture and pretend, not anymore. He was just… himself. Just Evvy, with a house and a partner and a new chance the homeless boy he'd been wouldn't have dared dream of.

Maybe that's where the restlessness came from -- from being excited for the future for once, and what it might hold for him.

For us.

"Hey."

Raspy voice huskier in sleep, Everett looked up to spy Kaidan blinking blearily at him from the stairwell.

"What're you still doing up?" he asked, shuffling closer and yawning. "Come to bed."

"Got caught up reading," Everett explained by way of apology, though he made no move to get up as Kaidan wandered closer. He took his time admiring his fiancé instead, bare-chested, sleep shorts slung low on his hips, curls awry with bed head.

"Mmph." Kaidan flopped onto the couch next to him, trying to stifle another yawn. He turned then, narrowing his eyes at Evvy.

"You're always late to bed," he pointed out. "Something wrong?"

"…not wrong, no."

Kaidan poked him in the cheek.

"Just adjusting still," Everett admitted. "Never really… had a home like this before. You know?"

Kaidan stopped mid-poke, frowning in thought before gently cupping Everett's cheek.

"Yeah, you said that before," he murmured. "S'why you don't go to sleep right away. Not why you always send me first."

"I have no idea what you mean," Everett lied, biting back a smile. Kaidan squinted at him, cupping both cheeks now and giving a little squeeze.

"Y'know, it's taken me a bit, but I think I've got it," his partner mused after a moment.

"Uh-huh?"

"Yeah." Kaidan shifted, straddling Evvy's lap. "You always made me get in bed first back on the Normandy, too. And back at the apartment… Pretty much every time you know you get to sleep with me, you make me go first."

"That is pretty strong evidence for a pattern, is it?"

"You're using me to heat up the bed, aren't you."

"Whaaaat -- ah!" Everett cut off on a laugh as Kaidan prodded him in the side. "I'm very cold, Kaidan, and you're so toasty!"

"Uh-huh."

"What're you -- oof." Kaidan had shifted them, Lifting Evvy slightly and dropping him back down onto the couch on his back. Kaidan mumbled sleepily and curled up on his chest, head tucked under Evvy's chin. Everett didn't hesitate to draw him close, running one of his own legs along Kaidan's and wiggling until his partner was settled more comfortably between his.

"This isn't a very compelling punishment, nerdlet."

"S'not a punishment," Kaidan murmured. He sounded halfway back to sleep already, body gradually becoming more of a boneless dead weight against him. Everett carefully adjusted him to settle more comfortably. "I'm too tired to go back upstairs."

"…so I get a heated blanket instead?"

"Yep."

Everett laughed, running his hands along Kaidan's back. He pressed a kiss to his soft curls, feeling more than his partner's heat warm his chest as he felt Kaidan's breathing even out.

"I think I can live with that," he whispered. He was still wide awake, but with Kaidan snuggled so close…

Yeah, he didn't mind.

#my writing #Everett Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #mshenko #prompt fill #These Ineffable Somethings #mass effect

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: E

The room’s dark. There’s only one small lamp burning in the corner, but that makes the single candle in the cupcake brighter than it would have been if the entire area were lit. It’s a somber celebration, but that doesn’t make much difference. It’s as it should be.

“Happy birthday, dear Katniss… Happy birthday to you.”

As the last note fades into silence, Katniss whispers a birthday wish and blows out the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” she mumbles. She’s alone and tired and feeling older than she thought she could. In the grand scheme of things, forty isn’t that many years, but the difference between her fourth and fifth decades seems like lightyears. She’s halfway (or more) through life, and she’s hiding from it.

No one could really blame her for running—not with the experiences she’s faced. Her father gone as a young man leaving Katniss, her mother, and her younger sister Prim alone with practically no income and empty stomachs that gnawed at her insides for months as she fell asleep. Her mother falling into addiction to anti-depressants and opiates leaving Katniss to keep the household together so she and Prim wouldn’t be taken by child services and separated. Her beloved sister gone in a house fire that ripped through the apartment building where she’d stayed while enrolled in med school in a neighboring state. That’s enough tragedy for any one person, and that doesn’t even count her own pain and disappointments during the past forty years.

She’s suffered plenty of both. There’ve been days when she has no idea how she continues to function, but she puts one foot in front of the other repeatedly, doggedly, hoping against hope that something will go right for her. The odds should be in her favor, but they never seem to be. Instead, she watches as the world goes by and wonders if she’s brave enough to step back into society and join the rest of the living. She’s been in mourning for long enough.

Forty. It’s a scary number, but it’s also a little motivating. With a shake of her head, she decides. It’s time. Prim would want her to be happy. She’d be furious at the way Katniss has shut herself off from everyone in order to protect herself. If there’s anything that can drive her out of her shell, it’s thinking about the disappointment that would shine in her sister’s eyes if she were still alive.

“It’s time to rejoin the living, Everdeen.”

Her voice is small as it echoes in her empty apartment, but that’s not the intimidating part. What’s terrifying is that she has absolutely no idea how to get back out there. It’s been almost a decade since she bothered, and she can’t help wondering if maybe she’s waited too long. It’s possible there’s an expiration date, and she’s past it.

It’s late, and she’s tired. Heaving a sigh, she heads to her new bedroom and plugs in the airbed to blow it up. Her belongings won’t arrive for another few days, and the thought of sleeping on the hard floor is the reason for her last minute purchase at the local department store. Shaking out freshly laundered sheets as she retrieves them from the dryer, she inhales the clean scent and tucks the corners onto the air mattress. A pillow and blanket that made the cut when she purged her possessions before her interstate move provides a tiny hint of home. Flicking off the overhead light, she closes her eyes and drifts into sleep. She counts the fact that she only wakes from nightmares three times as a win.

****

“I like that there,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts the picture on the shelf to the left of her television. It’s her favorite of the ones she and Prim took together before her sister started med school.

They’d been so happy, arms wrapped around each other and a rare smile gracing her own lips. As it always had, Prim’s grin stretches across her face, and her blue eyes snap with excitement in the image. She deserved so much better than to become a human torch because someone was stupid enough to not know how to douse a grease fire. The senselessness of it all hits Katniss again. Someone cooked dinner, and that act killed her sister. Prim, who only wanted to heal people, died because an idiot didn’t know how to make bacon and then tried to douse the flames with water.

A knock sounds at her door and shakes her out of her reverie. She isn’t expecting anyone, but a second knock convinces her she shouldn’t ignore it. It could be her landlord, and the last thing she wants is a grumpy Haymitch Abernathy yelling at her because she’s inadvertently broken some rule she doesn’t even know exists in the first place. Tossing her braid over her left shoulder, she crosses her apartment and answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

She’s surprised she can get the words out of her mouth. The man standing there definitely isn’t her landlord, and he’s not old, grumpy, or drunk like Haymitch obviously has been every time she’s seen him. The guy standing in front of her must be about her age, maybe a few years younger, and he has shockingly blue eyes which remind her of her sister’s, as well as the same ashy blonde hair that falls in a shock of curls over his forehead. She has the sudden urge to reach up and push them back, but she keeps her hands at her sides. It would be exceptionally inappropriate to grope a total stranger, even if he is standing in her doorway with a smile and a paper bag that smells something like heaven.

“I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Your next door neighbor. I brought you some pastries.”

“Pasties?” She squeaks out the word and immediately wants to smack herself. She sounds a little like a mouse, while his voice makes her insides vibrate. Also, what did she just say?

Peeta does a double take before bursting into laughter. “Pastries, not pasties. I’m not into that— Well, I mean…uh… I mean, I could be, but not the first time I meet a woman.”

His face is bright red, but hers feels like it’s flaming. She can’t believe she said that and crosses her arms unconsciously to cover her breasts before uncrossing them just as quickly. She’s not sure which is worse at drawing attention to the fact that she has nipples that pasties would cover, and… Hell, she’s spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “That was unseemly.”

“It’s fine. Hilarious, actually.” He grins and gives her a onceover, which makes her blush even harder.

“Well, pastries make way more sense and smell a lot better. But, why?” She’s not sure if that sounds rude or not, but it’s better than what she’s already blurted.

“I’m a baker,” he offers in explanation. “Just a little welcome to the building, uh…?”

“Uh…?”

She can’t think. He’s staring at her, and it makes her extremely uncomfortable in a very peculiar way. She’s not able to name it, but there’s something bubbling below the surface. If she concentrates really hard, she could probably identify the feeling. However, that’s not an option when Baker Boy is standing there with a perplexed look.

“You are?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. Just moved in. You probably already knew that. I, uh, thank you. This is great.”

“You’re welcome. Welcome to the building, Katniss, Katniss Everdeen. Let me know if you need anything. I always have eggs and sugar and more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. Think on it.”

With that, he disappears into his own apartment, and she’s left holding the bag. Literally.

In a trance, she crosses to her kitchen and sets the pastries down on the counter. Flustered, she pulls a bun out and sinks her teeth into a little bite of decadence that’s got to be illegal in all fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and half of Europe. It tastes so good it’s sinful. It’s doughy and filled with cheese, and she moans so loudly she wonders if he can hear her through their shared wall.

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

She sits there with a grin on her face for a stupid amount of time before realizing she’s hungry for more, and it’s not necessarily baked goods she wants.

****

Katniss rounds the corner and smacks into a wall. With a loud oof and a screech, she flails in her attempt to stay upright and keep her groceries from falling around her. Just when she’s about to lose it all, strong arms grab her and pull her upright. Relieved, she looks up and falls into the blue pools of her neighbor’s eyes.

“Easy there,” he says with the hint of a smile. “Where’s the fire?”

She almost says, “In my pants.” She really does, but she’s made a fool out of herself enough with him already. She frees herself from his clutches and congratulates herself on remaining calm, and then she sees what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much.

“Holy hell,” she murmurs at the sight of sweat-soaked skin and form-fitting running shorts.

“Sorry. I just got back from a run.”

“I…yeah. I see that.”

She can see some other stuff, too, and it is impressive. She can’t stop looking at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and she’s just told herself a few days ago that she needs to get back out there and has no idea how. She did say that, and here he is. She doesn’t even have to leave her building to find an opportunity. There’s no way she’s this lucky.

“Can I help with those?” He nods at the bags she’s holding and reaches out to take the ones hanging from her wrists. He brushes her hand with his, and her insides sizzle.

“Sure.”

She’s going to seduce him. Or let him seduce her. Or get him drunk and take advantage of him. Or something.

Every single fiber in her body tingles. It feels like waking up after a decade long nap and feeling simultaneously ravenous and powerful beyond belief. As he follows her into her apartment, she scans the area and decides to just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? Her neighbor hates her? Well, that would be terrible, but she can move. That’s how turned on she is by him. She’ll risk a broken lease.

“You can just put them there,” she says softly and runs her hand down his arm. He freezes and looks at her, and she stands her ground. Maybe she’s not thinking straight, but she wants him. Now.

“Katniss?”

She presses into him and trails a finger down her bare chest. She wipes a sweat droplet from his skin and bites her bottom lip.

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I’m not misreading this, am I?”

She wraps her arms around his neck and tips her head back. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls.

Looking directly at him, she says, “I really hope so.”

“Oh, hell.”

His mouth captures hers in a searing kiss, and she turns off her brain. She has no intention of thinking, only feeling for the next however long. His tongue is in her mouth, her hands are on his ass, and his sweat dampens her clothes.

Peeta hoists her into the air and wraps her legs around his waist. He stumbles backward to deposit her on the edge of the countertop and rucks up her shirt to slide his hands along her waist. Frantic, she tugs at his waistband, indicating she’d prefer he lose the shorts, and he growls into her mouth when she slips them over his hips. She cups his backside, pulling him between her legs and moans against him.

“Please,” she gasps. “Fuck, please.”

He’s frenetic, all power and kinetic energy as he rolls her leggings down her thighs, baring her to him. When she bites his lower lip, he grunts and shoves his hands between her legs. He pushes inside her roughly, and she whimpers at his pace. His thumb’s on her clit, and his middle finger plunders her as their tongues tangle and dance together.

She’s got him in her hand, jerking and tugging as he swells in her palm. It’s a solid weight there, but she wants it inside her. She doesn’t have time to look. She’s too enthralled in what his lips are saying as they mate with hers.

Katniss tugs one of her feet free and yanks him to her with her legs. His shaft is hot against her slit. She begs for him with her hands and body, but he pulls back slightly to catch her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice ragged and broken. She nods frantically, and he moans in the back of his throat. “I’ll pull out. I promise.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’d agree to about anything as long as he gives it to her hard. Then he’s inside her, stretching her as she calls his name. He’s big enough that it’s uncomfortable at first, until her body adjusts to the intrusion and she’s aching for more. By the time she’s relaxed, he’s pumping into her with her name falling from his lips as he bites and licks at her jawline.

“Tug my hair,” she manages to instruct, and he yanks on her braid so hard her eyes water. It’s sexy as hell, and she grapples at his back in an attempt to pull him further inside her. He’s good at this, she realizes. Really good at it, and she thanks her lucky stars she’s the fortunate recipient of such a fantastic experience. He’s doing everything he can to make it good for her, and it really, really, really is.

What they’re doing is so messy, but she doesn’t care. She owns bleach and anti-bacterial cleaning supplies. She just purchased them, in fact, and she’s going to need all of them if the mess between her legs is any indication. She’s quickly losing control, fucking against him as hard as she can.

Skin slaps together, sweat pours off them both, and he nuzzles his face into her shirt. If they had more time, she’d take it off for him—maybe she’ll wear pasties next time just to blow his mind—but they’re careening toward a climax faster than she knows how to handle. She’s desperate for more friction, so eager that she rubs herself as his thrusts stutter and falter.

“I gotta pull out. I’m gonna— shit!”

He yanks free, and she catches the sight of him before her eyes roll back in her head. His skin is pink and glistening with moisture from her body. The first splash of his climax hits warm and wet on her leg, and she arches her back as waves roll through her. Her hand cramps as she contorts it. Her hips buck, and then she’s reaching for him. She clings as her body tenses and releases repeatedly.

When it’s over, she huffs several breaths before blinking open her eyes. Her t-shirt hem has fallen against her thigh, and it’s marked with his ejaculate, as is most of her thigh and stomach. He pants into her ear, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. That’s fine with her, although it surprises her how affectionate he’s being in the aftermath of a quickie in her kitchen.

“Katniss, that was—”

“Something we need to do again.”

“I think it gives new meaning to the phrase ‘welcome wagon.’”

“Because you want me to ride you next time?”

“Next time?” His eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated as he realizes what she’s saying. “You want there to be a next time?”

“I’m not sure I want this one to be over.”

He flushes at her suggestion, but he’s a very helpful neighbor. Before he leaves to head back to his own apartment, he cleans up and then eats to his heart’s content. She’s pretty satiated from his visit, too.

#hutchhitched #prompt 34 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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beelspillowpet · 3 years

Note

Brothers reactions to a fem disaster bi MC who swoons over like every fem demon they see in the devildom?

Just got finished screaming over how much I LOOOOOVE THIS PROMPT. BI DISASTER YEEEEAAAAHHHH

Thank you for being the first to request something from me! 😭😭😭 I apologize in advance that these hcs aren't SUPER FOCUSED on the MC being a female themselves, but I tried my best with sneaking it in there when I could!

I've decided that along with MC, the brothers are also bisexual for the prompts too! You can be a mess together! <3 Sorry it took so long!

Lucifer

Oh. You seemed so interested in that girl who passed you by. You were smitten, he might say. Never mind it, he didn’t want to assume anything of it. Maybe you were just really fond of that girl's appearance.

The next girl he spotted you talking with, he was a bit concerned. You shouldn’t be off making friends with just ANY demons. They could be plotting to take your soul if you aren’t careful. Your palette seemed to be meshed, you were now talking to boyish women and feminine men. It was starting to come together for him now that you are, in fact, bisexual. A truly chaotic one, at that.

Over the next few weeks, he sees you flourish more and more with your obsession over women and men together. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about him, far from it. In fact, sometimes he listens to you rant about how beautiful this girl is at RAD, talking about her eyes or her lips. Other times he listens to you cry over how absolutely GORGEOUS this man is. He will never admit that he finds your taste in men and women to be quite similar to his. Almost exactly the same.

He listens to you sometimes talk to his brothers about how unrealistically, unreasonably cute, that girls are. You don't have nearly as much energy talking about men than you do women, but it's still there. He doesn’t really indulge you as much as he should, but he gives you enough input to invite you to keep ranting about BEAUTIFUL women and men.

Mammon

Same, dude. Same.

Mammon is a powerful bisexual, and you are the one who made him realize this(?!). He pretends he's not listening to you half the time, but he's hanging on your every word. When you two hang out, sometimes you push your D.D.D to his face to show you another model you've found on Devilgram. "His abs are SMOKIN' hot, Mammon, look!!" He has to agree. He's got a nice body. "Look at her soft face! She's SO unbelievably cute! And those curves, oof!”

He's watching you swoon and he can't believe it. You're both chaotic disasters, swooning over man and woman alike. You put much more life into your talks about women than you do men, and it worries him sometimes that he might not actually give him the time of day whenever he works up the courage. When you talk about those cute women, he does mostly still think about you. You have such beautiful eyes, and soft hair, when he's allowed to touch it. He wonders why you haven't seen it yourself.

At some point he let's it slip that he, himself, may or may not be bisexual, when you catch him scrolling through Devilgram of some of the models you've shown him in the past. The two of you spend hours on end, swooning over every male and female in sight.

Leviathan

You two are feral bisexuals. Especially fond of girls. Leviathan and you have both played those H-games. You know the ones. He catches you from time to time, listening to ASMR of girls patting your head or talking you through a rough patch in your life. He definitely knows when you're listening to lewd audio clips of women too.

He thinks for a while that you're a lesbian, and he's completely fine with that. It isn't until your attention abruptly SHIFTS when you find a SMOKIN' HOT anime boy that he realizes you are a disaster of a bisexual. Sometimes it's like a day and night shift with you. When you see girls at anime conventions you swoon uncontrollably. Gripping his arm and giving those compressed SCREECHES from the throat with shut lips. He can't help but think you're hyperbolic sometimes.

Deep down inside, he feels the exact same way. It's just too embarrassing to act like that though. But even though he feels that way, he watches you shuffling over to the cosplayers and otaku girls and asking for pictures. If you're lucky, you might even score a number from one of them! How dare you have better social skills than him? It's SOOO not fair??

He decides one of these days he'll take a page out of your book. He'll happily geek out about girls to you (especially if there's a Ruri-Chan cosplayer!?) and occasionally about the guys too. You both lean towards females anyway, and he's glad he's found someone just like him.

Satan

Oh. Girls? Guys? He's here, and he's listening.

He doesn't have any picture books, but the way the books describe some of the women? *chef's kiss* He loves it! He's watched you attempt to capture their beauty on paper (or tablet and laptop!) and smiles at your attempts. He calls them attempts because that's what you call them. "Nothing I do can truly capture the beauty that is any female that exists here." And he AGREES.

He finds your ridiculous chanting of GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS to be a riot. He joins in if it means pissing Lucifer off with the noise pollution. When you shift to guys, he's still as vocal as before. You probably aren't that great at drawing guys yet, but that's cool. He appreciates your enthusiasm. You catch him staring at you from time to time, and you wonder if he ever thinks you're as cute of a girl as the other ones you two fawn over.

Like a distorted clock, you talk about girls for at least two hours of his time, and then another hour about boys. He can't believe how much energy you put into loving women. He wonders if you're like Asmo, and just appreciate women a little bit too much. After all, the previous mention of chanting GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS is still fresh on his mind. You really are a messy bisexual, but you're his favorite messy bisexual, at least.

Asmodeus

OH HECK YEAH. YOU BOTH ARE A WRECK!

GIRLS. BOYS. GIRLS. BOYS. It's a never ending cycle with you two. It's like you're rabid animals, constantly going out to The Fall for the scoop on the next hottest guy to walk in. When you see a girl though, it's like you're straight out of a cartoon. You don't howl or whistle or anything of the sort that may be unsightly or rude but you ARE WATCHING. RESPECTFULLY.

You and Asmo are unashamed when it comes to flirting with men and women alike. You share tips that have worked in the past for each other, and having the Avatar of Lust give you pointers is a nice bonus overall. Asmo thinks for a while that you are a normal bisexual, but he's proven wrong when you find a group of beautiful women, who you hyper focus on for the next few weeks. He's honestly impressed.

It's like your attraction to men has almost disappeared, and he worries that perhaps you don't love him more than any woman you run across in the Devildom anymore. Your attention to men is still there with passing comments of "yeah he's really cute" but you're RIGHT BACK to the topic of GIRLS. he can't blame you. Women are QUEENS, just like you're an absolute QUEEN to him. He's more than happy to indulge some lewd talk about women, and you both spend hours doing exactly that most nights.

Beelzebub

Oh, that's cool. Someone else in this house likes both men and women. He's glad you're comfortable sharing so much with him. Usually when you do go for jogs in the morning, he watches you at his side while he listens to you. There's apparently this blonde woman with dark skin and she looks absolutely DIVINE. His brain focuses on imagining a pretzel with salt sprinkled over it, and he drools. He likes that thought, very much.

It's when you see said jogger does he truly realize your fixation on women is something to be feared. You're practically floating when she jogs by, almost wanting to go after her. Beel stops you, and asks if you're okay, worried that you might trip over your own feet if you swoon any harder. He thinks its cute. You start to dress like this jogging woman, wearing her color scheme in hopes that she'll notice you. Maybe he'll try to help and play wingman for you.

He doesn't open up about it at first, but eventually he does finally speak up when you bring up a man you see at the gym with him from time to time. He blushes a bit because he knows immediately who you're talking about. You like that guy, and Beel really likes him too. When you two see him at the gym, you both swoon a bit too much. While spotting Beel one time, he passed by and Beel nearly dropped his weights on his chest. This caused a bit of attention your way and flustered, you helped Beel set the weights back up and make sure he was okay. That wasn't the first or last time an accident happened at the gym either.

At the Fangol games, it's even worse, somehow. You sit as close as possible to the field, and halftime is your FAVORITE time. All those cute cheerleaders? Cheering for their teams? You forget in all the glory that is the ABSOLUTE BEAUTY OF WOMEN that you're supposed to be rooting for Beel. You spend the rest of the game reimagining the routines that were performed, and Beel is right there admiring them too. Quietly, at least. You're a bit too enthusiastic about your love for women, and Beel thinks you're cheering louder for them than you are for him when he's playing. He doesn't mind it too much though. He'd probably be the same way, provided he let loose a little more.

Belphegor

He doesn't bother with you. It's like you talk a mile a minute, only interested in girls for the most part. Occasionally you'll talk about a hot guy, and well, he's listening but... It's sort of hard for him to fall asleep with all your rambling about women. With such detail, it's like you're trying to give him material to imagine while he sleeps.

Belphie tries his hardest not to tell you to quiet down sometimes. He's forced to come to RAD, he's stuck by your side, mostly because your taste in men and women are quite similar to his. He's been sorely lacking on the cute girls and guys here at RAD, but he can count on you to provide eye candy for him. Not that he's going to act on it. Most of the time, he's too busy trying to block out your constant rambling. He notices it's mostly about women.

He thinks you're insecure at first, trying to appeal to him, presumably a straight guy, while appearing interested in men to seem straight too. He let's it be known for your comfort, if you like girls more than guys, then it's fine. He's not one to care or judge others on their interest. An anarchist at heart, and your chaotic bisexuality freak-outs are what he lives for. If you were more quiet about it, he would find it easier to fall asleep to. He manages to do that a few times.

Let's it slip while talking about a dream he had that he's interested in guys too. Maybe a little more than you are, though. 50/50 at best. He doesn't really encourage you to talk more about the girls you absolutely DROOL over, but whenever you two are out and you spot a woman, he's always side eyeing you and telling you to wipe your mouth. He sometimes makes a show of it, teasing you by panting like a dog, or telling you to heel. It's all in fun though, and he lets up before it gets too embarrassing.

#om!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphgor

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jujyfru1t · 2 years

Text

Fandom Snowflake Challenge #5:Talk About an Idea

(Crossposted from Dreamwidth)

sorry for sporadic @'ing... @snowflakechallenge

I couldn't just talk about one idea asffhgjhjhjh Oof. For starters there is A LOT of fanart I'd like to draw, but I have no drawing skills and keep forgetting to... figure out how to learn? idk, I've worked in words for so long my brain just short-circuits when even thinking about how to art. Perspective? Shading? How do i even get there, never mind past stick figures??? I have, however, kept a lil word doc of very detailed descriptions of fanart I'd like to draw, once I had that brilliant idea several years ago. :D (none of it's smutty yet hkhjkhjkhk let me do basic stuff first) In the same vein-- so many GMV/AMV ideas, so little time. but mainly, knowledge of where to get clips as, um, safely as possible. I have basic editing software that is just fine so that's good and this lil thingie called realdownloader, from realplayer, that i'm praying will still work now that I've invoked its name, to grab youtube game cinematics from. uh... wanna see my dumb AMVs? I have a Youtube.... (2 dumb Furubas that got slammed I have on my google drive~) okay okay okay but here's a few concrete ideas. I'd really like to do a shipweek for KyoxTohruxYuki, and by ship I mean platonic and romantic options bc I still think it's a sailboat. this one's mainly an energy problem, bc when I think of coming up with prompts and getting the word out on multiple platforms and maybe getting someone to do graphics i just wanna crawl under my desk afdfghgfhfghfhf and this and the next one are still waiting in the wings.... fun fact I'm an inveterate one-shot writer (though I did mange a multichap request fic whuuuuut). I want to write multichapters? I just... rarely get plotbunnies that are plotty enough, or I feel I can make plotty enough. would love to figure out how to get better at it-- anyway. 2 multichaps I want to write enentually but again, time and energy. Both Fruits Basket, both Yukyoru.

The first one is based off a manga called Kanako's Life As An Assassin-- unnecessary note here, but in looking for info to write this post I thought i only reblogged it to tumblr and could never find it again, then remembered I linked to the original post in my YTK plotbunny file BECAUSE i'M A FRICKING GENIUS, THANK GOD. ANYWAY!!! Yes, so, Tohru's a novice assassin ala this comic, Yuki's her bodyguard, and she starts to fall for Kyo, her latest target. ....that is literally all i have so far. gotta think up backstories and everything else, and not make Yukyo's past/secret connection handwavy, and they all end up together because DUH (oh flipping NO now i want a Red Notice AU!!! *screeches*) The other potential multichap I have as a magical girl AU. More Madoka than Sailor Moon but idk maybe both idfk. the main plotbunny i have is Tohru rescuing magical boys Yun and Kyon. also, a showdown with Akito wwho still gets redeemed. but. idk if the Yukyoru will be established or developing or anything else about the plot. yet, somehow, I have a playlist that's also a WIP-- beginning and end, and some disparate scenes. so... allll of this is stuff I want to Eventually Do. I think I can, i just... dunno when. or how complicated any of them might be. and oh shoot uh thanks for reading my blatherings! if you do!! I appreciate it very much!!!

#snowflakechallenge2022 #Fruits Basket #Furuba #Yukyoru

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nico-di-genova · 4 years

Note

2 for the angst prompts!

2. “I won’t leave you.”

Nicky finds Joe in the bathroom, curled up in the porcelain tub that’s hardly big enough for one person, let alone two, he climbs in anyway. Joe’s got his knees pulled to his chest, chin resting atop them, he’s still fully clothed. Nicky sits in the small space across from him and watches. In the dim motel lighting, the lines of exhaustion etched into his features are clear. His hair is a mess, bits of fine debris coating his dark curls. Nicky longs to reach out and touch him, to soothe away the rigid line of his shoulders, and the white knuckled grip that Joe has around his legs. It’s only the distant look that Joe has in his gaze that stops him. Sometimes he needs to process things, and it’s one of the few moments in their relationship where Nicky’s touch does the opposite of comfort him. He’d told Nicky once that it became ‘too much’, that his brain would try to accommodate the noise in his head and Nicky’s gentle hands all at once, until he became too overwhelmed to function.

Shifting, so he can also rest his chin atop his knees, he picks at the fraying ends of his jeans and waits. It’s scary sometimes, to see the man before him so still. Joe is someone who lives in perpetual movement. He speaks with his hands, always shifts in his sleep, bounces his knee when he has to sit for too long. Nicky has learned the language of his body, the stillness that overtakes him becoming a barrier to that. Today, thankfully, Joe doesn’t need more than a few minutes of silence before he blinks owlishly and looks up at Nicky with only a brief flicker of confusion. He zones out when he goes still, probably didn’t notice when Nicky climbed into the tub to begin with.

When he speaks, his voice is rough from disuse, and the screams he’d let out back at Merrick’s lab. “Hi.”

“Hi, my love.”

Joe blushes at the term of endearment. For a moment, a smile pulls at the corner of his lips, but then his body tenses again and it’s gone. “You died,” he says instead, voice going hollow.

Nicky nods, “I did.” There’s a loose curl that’s fallen across Joe’s forehead, every part of him yearns to reach out and brush it back, he focuses on the feeling of his jeans against his fingers instead.

“You got shot.”

“I did. And I came back.” Usually, their deaths don’t rattle each other this much. It’s only particularly gruesome ones, where they’re gone for longer than usual, that remind them of how permanent death can be. Nicky still can’t quite get the taste of gunmetal out of his mouth. The weight of the weapon sits heavy on his tongue. It’s also hard not to be reminded of Keane’s hate filled gaze above him, when there’s still blood matted at the back of his head.

Joe’s grip on his legs tightens, he draws further in on himself. “I-…I wasn’t sure for a minute… if you-,” he tries to say, but his words fail at the last bit.

“I know, habibi. But I did. I’m here.”

“You were dead,” his voice hitches on the word, the tense line of his shoulders quickly replaced with a tremor that Nicky hates more than the stillness. The sob that escapes Joe is quiet, muffled when he ducks his head to hide behind his knees. “I tried to stop him, Nicky-. I tried.”

“Joe-.”

“You weren’t-… you weren’t moving. Weren’t breathing. I tried. I tried.”

His heart aches with the pain in Joe’s voice. He watches, tears stinging at the corners of his vision, as Joe curls in impossibly tighter on himself, the tremor in his shoulders becoming a full body shake. Joe is larger than life, he’s the light when Nicky can only see darkness, and seeing him like this, it tears at something inside him.

“Joe. Please, habibi, come here. Please,” he moves, legs sliding down until they’re spread out across the tub and bracketing the man across from him. Joe looks up at the movement, eyes red rimmed. There’s a moment where Nicky thinks he’s acted too soon, that Joe will tell him he still needs time to himself. As much as he needs to wipe away the tears that are streaming down Joe’s cheeks, he’d wait, he’d wait another thousand years if it meant he’d have Joe in his arms again by the end. Thankfully, Joe’s done trying to process everything on his own. He launches himself across the tub, so quickly that Nicky can’t help the startled ‘oof’ that escapes him as Joe lands solidly against him.

The tub is uncomfortable, porcelain hard and unforgiving against his back. This would all be much easier in the bed just in the other room, but he doesn’t protest, because he has Joe in his arms and that’s enough; one hand tangles into Joe’s curls, the other resting on his back. Joe’s got both of his hands fisted around the fabric of Nicky’s shirt, his face pressed against Nicky’s neck.

“It’s okay, cuore mio. We’re okay.”

The only response he gets is a quiet sob.

“I won’t leave you. Il mio sole, I will always come back to you.”

Joe cries, “You can’t promise that Nicolò. It’s not a promise for you to make.”

He’s right, Nicky knows he is. Life has never been his to control. In the beginning, he’d sought death in the name of his God. He’d welcomed it with open arms, assured in his own faith, and confident he would awake to the gates of heaven. Instead, he’d woken to deep brown eyes and freckled skin. Now, he fought for life. He believed in doing good deeds, saving those who needed help, and he knew at the end of each hard day he’d be rewarded with the very man who was in his arms now. When death did finally come for him, Nicky would have no control over it, but he had faith enough to believe that they’d been brought into this world together and would leave it the same way.

“Can you hear my heartbeat?” he asks, lips ghosting across Joe’s left temple as he presses soft kisses there between his sentences. There’s a scar there, one of the few marks Joe has left of his first life.

Joe nods. The longer he’s curled up against Nicky, the more his breathing begins to even out.

“It beats for you Yusuf al-Kaysani. For you, and you alone. As long as you are living, so will I.” Nicky’s not good with his words, at least not compared to the soliloquies Joe has written for him, but for Joe he will always try.

He feels when Joe smiles against his neck, a small thing, but enough to loosen the tightness in Nicky’s chest. “You’re an incurable romantic,” he teases, voice light with the callback to Nicky’s own previous declaration.

“For you? Always.”

#oof #this one messed me up a little bit #not gonna lie #sad joe makes me sad :(#thank you for the prompt though!!#my fic #the old guard

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 3 years

Text

Business AU - Working Late, Part 2

Part 1 can be found here. Idk man, I’m enjoying this. I’m not going too overboard with descriptions and stuff, unless really necessary. It’s just a “feels good” kinda thing, you know 😂 ANYWAY, let’s get on with 👏

She thought she’d feel pressure by working with one of her bosses, but to be frank Donatello had this way of easing her into the work - it felt like a walk in the park. Conversations with him were always light and amicable, all while remaining professional. His insights about various projects and knowledge of certain employees proved to be quite useful, and soon enough Vee’s end of the month was a thing of the past - at least, until another rush. Just in time for this Friday night.

“Here’s the last file that was up for review,” came up Donatello’s voice as he dropped a light document on Vee’s desk.

“Peter’s file, correct?” asked Vee, still typing on her keyboard, not even lifting her eyes.

“Yeah, there wasn’t much to review, hence why his is quite small-ish. He’s doing good so far.”

... No answer. Vee was still typing, now in silence. The turtle frowned lightly, hunching over a little in order to look at her screen, leaving a hand on the desk for support.

“What’s so important that requires your undivided attention?”

The woman did a small jump, mostly dued to the other’s proximity.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m being so rude right now,” she blabbered, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. “I was just so focused on answering this email.”

“No worries,” smiled the mutant. “It wasn’t such a bad sight to see you this focused, anyway.”

“Oh please, sometimes I look like a dead fish or a deer facing headlights when I’m deep in thoughts.”

That brought a soft laughter from Donatello, trying not to bring too much attention on them from the other employees - although it was already too late by his sole presence in the room. Vee couldn’t help liking to see this side of him, showing that he could not only be a boss - he could be a friend. A complete snack of a friend though... Today he was wearing a black shirt, the sleeves, as usual for him, rolled to his elbows. He was also adorning a grey tie that matched his grey pants, a simple yet elegant combination for him. Meanwhile Vee felt a bit too casual for the workplace, but she knew she was staying true to herself in a reasonable fashion. A black turtleneck shirt, high-waisted jeans and black shoes. There were days she would dress a bit more formal, but in the end she mostly valued her comfort over fashion.

“How about we celebrate tonight? Since we finally got through your work.” he asked.

“Oh? Something in particular?”

“You, me,” he started, pointing to her than himself. “A bottle of wine and my drafting board.”

Vee almost choked for a moment, her thoughts turning wild and impure all of a sudden, but she was quick to save the situation:

“You’re quite eager to get back to your project,” she said, alluring to the Lowline structure.

“We made a deal, remember?” he smirked. “I help you, then you help me. Unless you’re chickening out?”

The woman didn’t break eye contact as she opened one of her desk’s drawers, revealing pencils, various rulers of many shapes and forms, and a compass.

“Joke’s on you, I’m already prepared.”

Both chuckled, trying to keep it down. In this comfort, Vee left a light touch on Donatello’s skin, one of his hands still down on her desk.

“I’ll be there,” she added with delight. “Don’t you worry.”

The turtle’s hand moved, shifting the woman’s touch to his palm, holding her ever so gently.

“Excellent.” His thumb brushed the top of her hand, pensive. “... You may get back to your emails now, miss Vee.”

As he left, Vee was trying so hard not to grin like a fool. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that some coworkers close by were glancing at her, the woman’s focus quickly shifting back to her computer, hoping she wasn’t looking too much like a blushing mess...

***

The place was empty, but the echo of laughters could be heard coming from a small room. It was no lie that the bottle of wine had been opened first, anecdotes of the day and week bringing amusement to their conversation. Vee was seated by the drafting board, pencil in hand as she tried to review Donatello’s lines. ... She had to admit that it was hard to focus and be steady at times.

“You see,” she started, first applying a tracing sheet over the actual plan. “It’s all about the flick of the wrist.” She held her pencil, carefully tracing lines in fluid circular motions. “Organic shapes have to be felt, not calculated... well, to a certain extent.”

“I can’t just wing it though,” pointed the turtle, next taking a sip of his drink as he was sitting close by. “How else could I provide exact measurements if I simply go with my feelings?”

He held up a free pencil with his other hand, faking a serious look as he held it in a comical ceremonious manner.

“Oh pencil, let me pour my emotions through thee, for I want to draw half-circles.”

“I’m trying to help you!” she laughed while playfully slapping one of his shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he chuckled in return. “I’m a man of logic, I can’t help it. Your speech would probably resonate better with my brother Mikey.”

Before Vee could protest, the mutant was up, freeing his hands and next standing behind the woman. She felt his hands travel along her arms, until close to her hands. He was trying to mimic her posture, the side of his face close to the top of her head - a smile felt in the air.

“I need to be taught by example. That way I can probably feel what you’re talking about.”

Gosh ... Vee sure hoped he wasn’t noticing her blush. She couldn’t explain it, but his touch right now felt a bit more different than earlier today. Still delicate, but much more intimate.... She started to draw, her voice quiet as she explained:

“You see, mister Donatello-”

“Please, you can call me Donnie. It’s not forbidden.”

She gulped.

“Feel the movement in my wrist,” continued the woman as she drew a circular line. “It’s best to feel relaxed and not be afraid to move your body.”

“I move my body pretty often, so at least that.”

Vee did not hesitate this time to look at him, a slight surprise in her eyes. Donnie showed clear amusement as he added:

“Trainings.”

Oof, she could breathe again. She tsked, then returning to her task, executing some more shapes until she proposed the pencil to the turtle.

“Here, try it out.”

He took it, not even prompting for them to switch places next. He prefered to stay behind Vee, practically nuzzling the top of her head so he could have a view as if sitting at her place. All Vee could feel was this strong shiver going along her spine, Donnie’s presence overwhelming her senses. She then saw him execute some strokes on the paper, copying her movements. She could see a clear improvement, his pace then slightly decreasing, observing his work. Putting the pencil aside, he couldn’t help getting a hold back of Vee’s hand, his thumb slowly grazing her skin.

“Impressive what an artist’s hand can do and teach...,” he said calmly.

And those hands could do so much more.... Vee tried to hush her thoughts, peacefully removing her hand from his hold.

“I should get going, it’s getting late...”

The dream seemed to fall, the mutant moving away. ... The room seemed so cold all of a sudden, Vee missing his proximity and heat.... He was still showing that soft smile though, offering his hand for her to grab and help her up.

“Understandable. If you want I could drop you to your place, or anywhere you want.”

The offer was so tempting...

“No thank you,” she replied, next grabbing her belongings.

She did pause for a moment, their gazes meeting.

“... This was nice,” added the woman. “I look forward to working with you more, ... Donnie.”

“Me as well, Vee.”

((Part 3))

#it's-a-moi #business au #part 3 coming soon at some point x'DD maybe tomorrow #I just love this fgdsbfsdbhfjsd #it's a fun way to spend my evenings :)#again - sorry if there's errors

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