#jan x jackie
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Get Rid of All Your Sorrows in the Summer City (Jankie, Lemyanka, Halldoll, Crygi) - Mar
A/N: Part of the Jankie parenthood universe. Set after Nicky leaves. Can be read on ao3.
Summary: The family goes to the beach to get some rest, solve some things, lick their wounds.
***
“Alright!” Jan claps. “Everybody ready?”
She surveys the row of people in Jackie’s living room, all weighted down with various travel bags and rucksacks.
“Not yet,” says Jaida, focused on slathering sunscreen on —two very disgruntled— Gigi and Crystal. “Y’all ain’t getting skin cancer on my watch,” she says, moving to pat the leftover sunscreen on Lemon’s cheeks until Lemon swats her away.
While Jan gets them all in a little duck row to leave, Jackie goes around the house one last time, ticking off her mental checklist. Windows shut, lights off, Jan’s contact solution and the blanket Gigi needs to sleep when they have nightmares.
“Wallets, IDs, car keys, house keys, everybody has their luggage?” She receives a chorus of yes. “Perfect, I guess all we’re missing is—”
“Beach time!” shouts Priyanka as she enters the house, already clad in a bikini top and giant sun hat. The kids squeal and run to her, and Priyanka has to drop her bag to catch them mid-jump. “Let’s go, then, come on!” she says, leaving as quickly as she entered.
“Okay, I’ll lock up here,” says Jackie as she hands Jan the car keys. “Everyone, get in the car.”
“Shotgun!” Jaida yells.
“No!” Lemon screams and runs out the door after her.
Jan clicks the car open and follows her sisters, watching them wrestle to get in the front seat. Lemon is half inside the car, half on the sidewalk, pushing Jaida’s face away as Jaida tries to pull Lemon out by the arm.
“Get. Out,” mumbles Jaida from behind Lemon’s hand. “I called shotgun!”
“Be faster, then!”
“Both of you, get out,” Jackie commands. They stop struggling. “Jan gets shotgun.”
Sulking, Jaida and Lemon get in the middle seat of the van.
“Yes, guys, don’t be childish,” says Jan smuggly, sitting in the passenger seat. Hiding her face from Jackie, she sticks her tongue out at her sisters.
Despite the early hour, the car buzzes with energy. Encouraged by Priyanka, the kids go through every car trip song in the first fifteen minutes, and then rope everyone in a long game of I Spy.
They barely get on the highway before Gigi announces she has to pee.
Jackie glances at her kid in the rearview mirror.
“You couldn't think of that before we left the house?”
Gigi grins and shakes their head.
“I have to go too,” Crystal says.
“Me too, actually.”
“Yeah, same.”
Jackie sighs.
She gets off the highway.
Jackie sets them loose in the parking lot of a gas station and tells them to be back in fifteen. Jan promises coffee and pastries and leaves her with a kiss.
They have two and a half hours of driving ahead. Jackie walks around the parking lot and stretches every muscle, gearing up.
The sun is just now starting to warm up the morning. It is horrendously early. The sisters are fine, obviously, and the kids are too excited to complain, but Jackie’s freelancer circadian rhythm is struggling.
Twenty minutes later, everyone comes back, arms laden with snacks. Jan hands Jackie her coffee and watches her drain it, desperate for more energy.
“Want me to drive for a bit?” Jan offers.
“I’m good.”
With a satisfied sigh, Jackie throws the empty cup in the trash and tells everyone to get in.
The kids have renewed energy and demand car games. Jaida teaches them the alphabet game, and they make use of their newly acquired knowledge of letters to find them in the signs they see along the way. Around the letter R, they both fall asleep.
The ride gets a little more quiet from then on. They make a brief stop so Priyanka can dislodge herself from under Gigi’s head and move to the middle seat, where she can participate in their conversations without waking up the kids. Jackie glances at the rearview mirror and bites back a smile. The middle seat is crowded, and it’s funny to watch Lemon fake nonchalance about the way Priyanka is completely pressed against her body.
Jackie wonders how long that will take. The flirt-fighting has been going on for a while. It’s very clear they like each other; Priyanka’s not subtle at all, and Lemon never tried to hide it.
And still, for whatever reason, they seem to be at an impasse.
Jan thinks Priyanka will break first, but Jackie’s not so sure. She has known her for years, and has seen the worst of her stubbornness.
Either way, it’s entertaining. Their whole friend group has been watching Priyanka deny there is anything going on while she looks at Lemon like she’s two seconds from pinning her down on the nearest surface and— okay, no, Jackie doesn’t want to think about her best friend and her sort-of-little-sister like that. Jackie needs that train of thought wiped from her mind, so she's very grateful for Jan’s attempt to oh-so-casually change the current playlist, and the commotion it brings.
“Hey!” Jaida yells immediately once she sees what her sister is doing. “No showtunes in the car, you know how that ends. Give me the phone.”
Jan huffs and passes her phone to Jaida, who quickly switches playlists.
“How does it end?” asks Jackie, always curious about Jan’s past. Jaida and Lemon have been invaluable sources of endless anecdotes, and she loves any new piece, especially the ones that make Jan blush like she does now.
“‘Kay, so,” Lemon starts, scooting forward. “Jan had just gotten her license, and we were all so excited because now we could drive places without our parents—”
“—meaning they made me their personal chauffeur,” Jan clarifies.
“Hush, I’m telling the story. So Jan’s one rule was that the driver gets to choose the music.”
“Pretty basic rule,” Jan defends.
“You can imagine how much fun that was for us,” says Jaida. “She wouldn’t even let us talk when her favorites were playing.”
“So one day, she’s driving us to some birthday, or something.”
“Cousin Katie’s birthday.”
“Cousin Katie’s, yes. And Jan’s torturing us with her new Wicked CD.”
“Scream-singing the whole way, too. Windows down, hair flying everywhere, you get the picture.”
“Defying gravity starts playing and Jan tells us to shut up.”
“She sings the whole thing perfectly, getting more and more hype.”
“The high notes start. She’s so into it, she’s not even in the car anymore, she’s on a stage in her mind performing her heart out.”
“She starts screaming with her eyes closed and lets go of the wheel—”
“—and the car immediately runs up the sidewalk.”
“Into a tree.”
The girls pause their story because everyone is cackling by then, except Jan, who has her face buried in her hands.
“I was feeling the fantasy,” she mumbles.
“Were you all okay?” Priyanka says through the laughter, though with more alarm than warranted for a car crash that happened ten years ago.
“Yeah, we were all fine,” Lemon says, gently laying her hand on Priyakna’s knee.
“The car sure wasn’t,” Jaida says. “We get down, the whole left side of the hood is dented, the light fell off, everything.”
“Jan’s crying, thinking she’s gonna get shipped off to military school.”
“Lemon had to call mom and explain everything while I tried to convince Jan not to become a fugitive.”
Jackie knows about Teresa. She has heard the stories. She imagines having to tell the woman she crashed her car, and shivers.
“Was she angry?”
“She was worried, mostly,” Jaida says. “They rushed to pick us up, and mom kept us on the phone the whole time.”
“They found us and immediately started patting our skulls and limbs like they could find a fracture just from that.”
“But we were fine, and they calmed down.”
“And then,” Lemon says, her eyes lost in the distance. “Then came the nightmare.”
“I had never been yelled at like that in my life,” Jan says with a shudder. “You don’t wanna see mom angry.”
“I believe you,” Jackie says.
Meeting Jan’s parents is something she anticipates and fears in equal measure. She’s had success with both sisters, even if it took Lemon a minute to warm up, but parents are a different beast. She’s never done it, for one. Her only serious ex was deep inside the closet, and no one else ever reached that level of importance in her life.
Jackie looks at Jan, her purple swimsuit peeking out under her tank top, hair tangled from the wind and cheeks flushed from embarrassment, and she knows she would face anything for her. Even Teresa’s wrath.
“I thought mom would tear her vocal cords from yelling that much.”
“And dad was even worse,” Jan sighs. “He did that thing where he doesn’t yell, but you can tell how disappointed he is from one look.”
“Oh, I hate that,” Jaida says. “I got the look the only time I ever failed chemistry. Never again.”
“Hm,” Lemon says, thoughtfully. “Sounds awful.”
“Shut up—” “Shut the fuck up, Lemon,” her sister yell, making her snort with laughter.
“What? What’s up?” Priyanka asks.
“Oh, you didn’t know? Lemon is Little Miss Perfect.”
“She can do no wrong in our parents’ eyes, ‘cause she’s the princess of the house.”
“It’s your own fault,” Lemon said. “You two wore them down so much that by the time I started misbehaving, they were too tired to stop me.”
“They let her get away with everything, I swear,” says Jan.
“Everything! She didn’t have to sneak out of the house because our parents would drive her to every party, not even a curfew or nothing. They’d pick her up at any time in the car, with blankets and a snack.”
“Back in our day,” says Jan, pointing between herself and Jaida, “we had to climb down the roof under my bedroom window and pray the gutter didn’t collapse under our weight.”
“All that effort just to go to a party in someone’s dingy basement, to drink cheap beer and those nasty cocktails our friends invented.”
“Remember that Halloween party, when someone called the cops?”
“We were jumping over fences in high heels.”
“I lost a shoe and we both lost our purses.”
“That one was fun to explain to mom and dad,” Jaida laughs. “I can’t believe they didn’t buy ‘a man stole both our purses and Jan’s left shoe’.”
Jackie laughs along with everyone else, but then she glances at the rearview mirror. In the backseat, her child and their best friend sleep like two perfect angels. She fears what their teenage years will put her through.
With music and conversation, the trip goes by faster than expected. When they finally reach the town, Priyanka wakes up the kids.
“Look,” she whispers, “there’s the beach.”
Gigi and Crystal yawn and look out the window with sleepy eyes, but they perk up when they see it for the first time.
The big, wide sea, waiting for them.
“Can we go to the beach now, mom?”
“We’ll go in a minute, honey, we just have to drop everything off at the house first.”
The kids keep their eyes on the water the whole way to the house. It’s a small place right on the sand with three bedrooms, nothing fancy but big enough. They will just use it to shower and sleep anyways; the rest of their time will be spent at the beach or around town.
They drop their bags in the bedrooms, everyone claiming a bed and changing quickly to line by the door, where Jaida forces them all to get a new layer of sunscreen. With Jackie’s okay, they all run out the door.
Jan, Lemon and Jaida set up camp as Crystal and Gigi lead Jackie and Priyanka to the water. They squeal when the waves reach their feet, and they scramble back into the grown up’s arms yelling with excitement. Priyanka holds Crystal high on the water and threatens to throw her in, and Crystal laughs and squirms so much that Priyanka almost drops her for real.
Gigi is mesmerized in her mom’s arms, entranced by the waves, and Jackie is mesmerized looking at her child discover a piece of the world.
“Do you like it, honey?”
Gigi nods and rests against her mom’s chest.
“Can we live on the beach?”
Jackie inhales deeply, filling her lungs with sea salt.
A lifetime ago, she chose her career exactly for that reason. So she could pack up her things and go anywhere, any time.
Then Gigi came along, and moving became a bit more complicated, though not impossible. Over time, however, they got attached to their city, their friends, and now they had Jan, and Jan had her job and her family.
Still, nothing was set in stone.
“Maybe someday.”
Eventually, they all get in the water. They make a pact not to splash each other, which is honored for about two minutes before Priyanka starts doing karate chops on the water, spraying Lemon’s face. Lemon protests, but it loses weight with how much she’s giggling. Jan dares Jackie to swim further and further in, and they dive under waves until their companions are only distant voices. Jaida stays with the kids in the shallows, holding their hands to make them spin around, sand flying everywhere.
Around noon, Jan and Jackie herd everyone inside for lunch and try to calm down the kids enough for a nap. Even all of their excitement can’t compete with the exhaustion of a morning spent at the beach, and they’re asleep in minutes.
At four, when the sun is more merciful, they go down to the beach again. The kids head straight for the water with Jan, Priyanka and Jaida, but Jackie sits down to read under an umbrella and Lemon does the same in a towel under the sun. They can’t focus for long. Their eyes are called to the water.
Jan and Priyanka are swinging Crystal over the waves, helping her jump when one gets too close. Gigi has discovered that the sea erases her footprints, so she makes paths on the sand and is delighted everytime she looks back and sees there’s nothing left. Jaida joins Gigi for a while, but soon enough, she starts walking along the water, far away from the rest.
“Time for her daily mourning session,” says Lemon, watching her sister walk away.
Jackie smiles at the concern in Lemon’s voice, noticeable even through the joke.
“She just misses Nicky, is all.”
“I know.”
Lemon watches Jaida for a while, then goes back to reading her book and staring at Priyanka.
Jaida is not alone. Jackie misses her too. She wished Nicky a safe trip before she left, and that was the last time they spoke. In her mind, Jackie’s been repeating to herself that Nicky needs some time to get adjusted to being back in France, but that excuse gets weaker every day and Jackie still won’t text her.
In a selfish, childish way, Jackie is angry. The rational side of her brain knows that Nicky’s her own woman, free to go wherever and build the best life she can. But she misses her friend, and when Gigi asks sadly if aunt Nicky will stay away forever, rationality flies out the window.
The move hit them all harder than expected. After so much change, their group had found its footing, and Nicky was a crucial part of it. Now everything’s off kilter, and they don’t know how long it will take for things to feel stable again.
Jackie wants to ask Lemon if she’s heard when Nicky will come back, or if she will come back at all, but she has a feeling that Lemon doesn’t know either. The person most likely to know is Jaida, and no one dares to ask her.
After some time, Jan drags herself out of the water, away from the three fireballs of energy still going strong.
“Tag in,” she tells Lemon as she points back with her thumb.
Lemon whines, but she still gets up and goes to help Priyanka with the kids. Jan wastes no time to plop down on her towel.
“They’re gonna sleep well tonight,” Jackie observes, watching the kids still jumping around with intact energy.
“We all will,” Jan mumbles against the towel.
“Really? You’re not gonna spend any time with me tonight?” Jackie smiles.
Jan sits up and looks at Jackie, squinting through the sunlight.
“Hm. Maybe. What are you suggesting?”
“That we break in the bed.” Jackie leans over the armrest of her beach chair and slides two fingers under the strap of Jan’s bikini top. “And that you keep this on.” She snaps the strap against Jan’s skin.
Jan bites her lip, leaning forward to kiss Jackie, as languidly as the warm summer day demands.
A blood curdling scream cuts the air.
Their eyes fly to the water, but Gigi and Crystal are safe on the shore.
In the water, however, Lemon sinks Priyanka under the surface and then tries to swim away from the retaliation, but Priyanka resurfaces and grabs her legs to drag her down.
“No, no, no—” is the last thing they hear before Lemon is underwater.
Priyanka’s triumph lasts for a microsecond and then she falls like someone took her out at the knees.
“I never thought I’d have more kids, let alone two twenty year olds,” Jackie says.
“They’re mentally five, put together.”
They watch Crystal and Gigi peacefully build sandcastles. They either don’t notice or don’t care that the waves still reach them and bring down their creations again and again.
“You don’t want more kids?” asks Jan, eyes still on the shore.
Jackie bites her cheek.
It’s time.
She takes a moment, and says the words that have been running through her mind for weeks.
“I’ve thought about it,” she starts, closing the book on her lap. “Once I felt settled with Gigi, I thought, maybe it’s time for another kid. It sounds like the next logical step, doesn’t it? But…” Jackie pauses, looking at Gigi. They’re handing shells to Crystal to decorate the castle. “I really like our life as it is.”
Jan doesn’t say anything. She just rests her chin on her arm on the chair, and listens.
“I don’t want to divide my attention with another kid, when I could focus it all on Gigi. And I know people think only children are selfish or spoiled, but this isn’t the case. Gigi grew up with children, she has friends she sees everyday, she’s well socialized. She doesn’t need to live with other kids to learn from them, you know?”
“She’s a perfect kid,” Jan says with sincerity, smiling fondly in their direction. “Gigi doesn’t strike me as the sibling type, either. They’ve never mentioned wanting siblings, at least.”
Jan watches the kids. They’ve abandoned their castles and are digging a giant hole in the sand, for an unclear purpose.
Jackie watches Jan. She takes her hand and interlaces their fingers, steading herself.
“Do you… do you want more kids?”
Jan smiles at the word ‘more’. She considers the question, not for the first time.
“I always thought I would, because I come from a big family. And I can’t imagine my life without my sisters, but that’s because I have them. And if you wanna talk socialization, or whatever, even with two sisters I was really shy growing up, but Jaida and Lemon weren’t. That kind of thing is very hit or miss, there is no guarantee of anything.” Jan uncrosses her legs and sits up straighter. “Besides, we get along, but I know plenty of siblings who hate each other.”
“Do you?”
“Did I tell you I have an uncle I’ve never met? We don’t even know why, Mom just refuses to talk about him. All I know is they haven’t spoken since before my mom had me.”
The strong grip on Jan’s hand has relaxed. Jackie lays back on her chair.
“Were you stressing about this?” asks Jan.
“No… A little? I didn’t know how to bring it up, but I knew I’d have to sooner or later.” Jackie swallows hard. “I was worried that… that our answers wouldn’t match.”
Jan stands up and sits on Jackie’s lap, taking her face in her hands to kiss her.
“For the record?” Jan says. “I like our life too.”
Jackie’s smile is so beautiful that Jan needs to kiss it a hundred more times.
________________________________________________________________________
The after effects of a beach day are felt by them all.
Gigi and Crystal are a bit grumpy. They get into an argument over what cartoon to watch, so Jackie takes the remote away from them and takes them to their room for a quick nap before dinner. Lemon enjoys having the TV for herself for all of two minutes, before she falls asleep on the couch.
Jan keeps yawning as she makes dinner, and even the hurricanes that are Priyanka and Jaida sit down in silence, scrolling their phones.
The kids wake up ravenous. Dinner is a simple affair, and it’s gone in ten minutes. In a much better mood, Gigi and Crystal finally agree on a movie and spread out on the couch, already sleepy again.
The other kids, however, are back in full force. Jaida, Lemon and Priyanka have decided to go out and they start downing Red Bulls the minute dinner is over, while Jaida Googles every bar and club nearby.
Makeup bags and potential outfits take over their bedroom and spread out to the living room as skirts, heels and can-I-borrow-yours fly across the house. Jackie and Jan watch the chaos unfold from the couch, amused, each with a child’s head on their lap, stroking their hair.
“Do you miss it?” Jackie whispers to Jan as they watch the other girls get ready together.
Jan smiles at her.
“Do you?”
“Fair point.”
Priyanka claims the shower first and disappears in the bathroom. Lemon volunteers to do the dishes for what may be the first time in her life, and Jackie sees why when they hear a yelp from the shower when Lemon turns on the faucet. She giggles and Jaida drags her out of the kitchen.
“It’s like watching kindergarteners with a crush,” Jan says, so done with her sister’s antics.
“You’re doing a disservice to kindergarteners everywhere. Especially these two,” says Jackie, looking at the kids on their laps, who are starting to wake up more with the general mayhem. “They’re married and everything.”
The girls get ready in a cloud of perfume and blush, running back and forth from the living room to the bedrooms to the bathroom. Now fully awake, Gigi and Crystal follow the whirlwind, fascinated with the ritual and begging to be part of it. Gigi teeters around in Jaida’s high heels and Crystal sits down for Priyanka to draw hearts of eyeliner on her cheeks. Lemon straightens her own hair and gets Jackie’s permission to do a few light curls on Gigi’s. Someone’s phone is blasting a going out playlist and Jaida dances around with Crystal on her hip, making her laugh wildly with every spin.
Jan takes control of the music and curls up with Jackie on the empty couch, while her sisters pose for her and ask a million things.
“Jan, can I borrow your blue halter top?”
“Jan, this jacket or this one?”
“Jan, can you do my eyebrows? I can never do them like you.”
Jackie sees that Jan is having fun. Her big heart always gets joy from her sisters’ happiness, but still, there is a hint of sadness in her.
When everyone is almost ready, Priyanka goes to the room to get her jacket and purse.
Jaida peeks down the hallway to make sure the coast is clear and immediately corrals Lemon.
“So?” she says.
Lemon doesn’t look away from her hand mirror.
“So what?”
“Don’t ‘so what’ me, are you gonna do something or not?”
Lemon rolls her eyes and pockets the mirror.
“Shouldn’t you be worried about getting laid yourself? It’s been like a month.”
Jan recoils at her sister’s bluntness. That’s a topic they just don’t touch. Jaida frowns and tenses up, but Priyanka enters the room just then, struggling to get her jacket on.
“What are we talking about?” she says.
The three sisters freeze.
“Jaida getting laid,” Jakies says smoothly.
“Fuck yeah! We’re getting you a little somethin’ somethin’,” says Priyanka, waggling her eyebrows and bumping her hip with Jaida’s. It gets her laughing, and any tension leaves the room.
“Everybody ready? I’ll call a cab.”
“It’s four blocks, you bum. We’re walking there.”
Loudly and chaotically, they all get their things and do last-second touch ups. Lemon and Jaida leave loud kisses on Jan’s cheeks, lipstick marks and all. The girls yell their goodbyes, and they’re out the door.
The house is quiet.
For about a minute, before Gigi trips in their heels and lands on their butt. Crystal rushes to their aid but they giggle and get up, unharmed.
“I think it’s bedtime for us, guys,” Jan says, standing up and stretching. She holds her hand to Jackie and helps her up.
They wash the makeup off Crystal’s face and convince Gigi to get down from the heels. Teeth brushed, PJs on, they set the kids down in the queen bed they are sharing, and read them a story until their eyes close.
Jan and Jackie stay with them for a moment, one on each side of the kids, to make sure they’re really asleep.
Jan’s fingers find Gigi’s hair again, threading it softly away from their face. She traces their forehead, their nose, and smiles when their eyelids flutter.
���I do miss it, sometimes,” she whispers. Jackie finds her eyes in the dim light. “Getting ready with them, more than clubbing. We still do it sometimes, but it’s a rare treat more than a weekly thing. I don’t know,” Jan shakes her head a little, hair falling on her face. “We learned to do everything together, you know what I mean? Jaida and I bought our first lipglosses together, went to our first club together, did horrible things to our eyebrows together. Then we taught Lemon how to paint her nails and walk in heels. We learned to dye our hair in the kitchen sink, we even got our first tattoos together. To see them do those things without me feels… weird.”
There’s a familiar guilt bubbling in Jackie’s stomach. Jan gives her a small smile.
“So yes, I do miss it, I won’t lie. When we started dating, I knew I would be giving up some things, but— Jackie.” Jan’s hand finds Jackie’s over the comforter. “I came into this with eyes open. And I don’t regret it, not even a little bit. I need you to understand this: I’m not losing anything.” She squeezes Jackie’s hand. “We have both made our choices.”
Her smile is genuine, and it calms down the gnawing in Jackie’s stomach.
When both kids are breathing evenly, the women sneak out to their own bedroom.
They fall to bed with kisses and wandering hands, but sleep claims them both soon enough. They stay intertwined until morning.
________________________________________________________________________
Any lingering regret Jan may have had for not going out vanishes the next morning, as she and Jackie walk cheerfully around the park, while Lemon and Jaida drag behind them with giant sunglasses, giant cups of coffee and the hangover of a lifetime.
Priyanka fared much better, and thank God, because Gigi and Crystal keep pulling her towards every loud and flashing game in the park. It leaves Jan and Jackie free to walk hand in hand, feeding cotton candy to each other and enjoying the general honeymoon feeling they’ve had since they got to the beach.
“Gross,” Lemon mumbles behind them after they share a particularly long kiss.
Unbothered, Jan licks sugar from Jackie’s lips.
“What you have is envy,” says Jackie.
“What I have is nausea.”
“You’re just pissy because you chickened out last night and didn’t kiss Priyanka,” Jaida mumbles.
“Oh, I’m sorry for being considerate and not abandoning you in the club!” Lemon says.
“Stop yelling,” Jaida hisses, touching the iced coffee cup to her temple. “And that is a damn lie. You’re just a little chicken,” Jaida teases, pushing Lemon’s shoulder.
“Ugh, don’t touch me, I’m gonna puke,” Lemon says and stops dead in her tracks to steady herself. She leaves with Jaida to go find a table to sit at until they feel like humans again.
Jan spots a ferris wheel and steals Jackie away, after making sure that Priyanka can handle the kids by herself.
Crystal and Gigi take Priyanka all over the park, and finally stop in front of the haunted house.
“Pri, can we go in? Please, please, please?” Gigi begs.
“I don’t know. It looks actually scary,” Priyanka says, eyeing the flashing lights and clouds of smoke that filter out through the open doors of the house.
“It’s very kid friendly until nine,” says the man cutting tickets at the entrance. “That’s when the teenagers show up and we kick it up a notch, but for now, they can handle it.”
Priyanka looks at the house, looks at the kids, looks at the house again.
“Can I get three tickets?”
The kids run inside giggling, each holding one of Priyanka’s hands. When the door closes and they are submerged in darkness, they quiet down.
It’s been a while since Priyanka’s been in one of these, but she knows enough to expect the ghost that jumps out from around the corner.
For the kids, it’s a new experience.
Crystal screams and Gigi lets go of Priyanka’s hand to cover her eyes. Priyanka fumbles in the darkness for Gigi, lest she loses them in the worst possible place, and she’s about to drag both kids outside when Crystal starts laughing.
“Boo!” she yells at Gigi, and they uncover their eyes. “I’m the scariest monster in here!”
Gigi starts laughing at Crystal, and they both make ghostly wails loud enough to drown out the ones playing on the speakers above.
They rush ahead, leaving Priyanka to scamper after them.
The hallways are covered in spider webs, shadows crawl up the walls and every other floorboards creeks. A witch pops up and cackles, and Gigi mimics her laugh. A giant werewolf slashes the air in front of them with its giant claws, but Crystal jumps forward and growls at it.
Priyanka is having a field day. None of the monsters know what to do with the little humans terrorizing their castle.
Right before the exit, they face the final monster. A rotting zombie comes at them moaning and groaning, but the kids jump at him with their little arms raised and yell so loudly that the zombie falls back. Priyanka laughs so hard that she can barely apologize to the guy in the costume.
They leave the house laughing, Crystal and Gigi still jumping around and growling. Priyanka rewards their bravery (and her own) with caramel apples.
________________________________________________________________________
“So why didn’t you kiss Priyanka last night?”
Jaida is almost horizontal on a park bench resting her back on the table, slurping the last of her iced coffee.
Next to her, Lemon is slumped on the table. She lifts her head and her sunglasses are crooked, her hair spiked in every direction.
“I told you—”
“You didn’t want to leave me alone, I know. Cute. What about when I was dancing with that girl, the tall one? I was gone for a full hour.”
Lemon rubs her eyes under the sunglasses.
“I don’t know. It didn’t feel like the right moment.”
“You waiting for trumpets, or something? There are no right moments, you make them.”
“Fuck off with that Disney rhethoric, you know what I mean. We were drunk at a club, it wasn’t the right time to like, open my heart, or whatever.”
“Your heart?” says Jaida, digging her elbows on the table to lift herself up. “Who said heart?”
Lemon starts swirling the straw inside her empty coffee cup.
“I actually like her,” she finally says. “In a really annoying, ‘let’s go on dates and hold hands’ kind of way. Which is annoying. She’s so annoying.”
Jaida smiles at her sister, who won’t meet her eyes, and softens her voice.
“Does she know?”
“I don’t think so. She thinks I’m just bothering her because I want to jump her bones, which I do—”
“Gross.”
“—but it’s more than that. But she doesn’t take me seriously.”
Endeared as Jaida is by her little sister’s pout, somebody needs to talk some sense into her.
“I think that’s because you’ve been doing the adult version of pulling on her pigtails at recess.”
“She bullies me too!” Lemon defends herself. “That’s just how we communicate.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
“I don’t know, how’s long distance working out for you?"
The cup in Jaida’s hand crinkles, and Lemon knows she’s gone too far.
“Low blow, Lemon,” Jaida says with a terse voice, getting up.
“I’m sorry,” Lemon says, grabbing Jaida’s wrist before she can leave. “You’re right, that was totally uncalled for. And a bitch move.”
“A real bitch move,” says Jaida. She sits back down.
Lemon pushes her sunglasses up into her hair and squints in the sunlight, trying to get used to it.
“You’ve been talking to her, right?”
Jaida nods.
“Everyday since she left. Since the plane, really.”
“And… and is she, like—”
“I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
The ‘if’ hangs in the air between them.
Jaida’s posture gets tense, and Lemon regrets the whole conversation. At least now she has an answer about Nicky, even if it’s not the one she wanted.
“She had to leave,” Jaida says after a moment. “It’s not the same as your thing.”
Lemon bites her tongue and just nods.
“It’s not,” Jaida insists. “You’re not being honest because, I don’t know why, honestly, ‘cause Priyanka clearly likes you, even if she pretends she doesn’t. The girl’s an open book.”
Lemon smiles at that.
“But Nicky had to leave,” Jaida repeats like a mantra. “It was a good opportunity, one she’d waited for her whole life. I couldn’t keep her tied here sewing children’s costumes just so I could have her at my beck and call. That would be…”
“Selfish,” Lemon finishes. Jaida nods. “And that’s not you. But it’s also not the full truth, right?”
Jaida glares at the ground.
“I know Nicky,” Lemon says. “She would’ve stayed for you. Happily. But you didn’t let her make that choice. You practically packed her bags for her.”
“And what would you have done, Lemon?” Jaida retorts. “If you were in my position, if Priyanka had some incredible job offer across the fucking sea that she was willing to sacrifice to be with you. Could you live with that?”
“It is so not the same! Pri and I aren’t even dating.”
Jaida squints at her.
“You’re right, you’re not dating Priyanka, which is what we were talking about. Stop changing the subject, I hate it when you do that.”
Lemon laughs at being caught, and wonders if she should drop the subject altogether.
For how talkative and sociable she is, Jaida rarely talks about the big stuff. She’s a chatterbox with good deflection skills, quick to shift the focus from herself to others, and Lemon only notices because she does the same. They leave the feelings talk to Jan. God knows she has enough for the three of them.
Lemon basks in the sunlight. Even through the hangover, she can see that it’s a really beautiful morning. Warm and sunny, perfect for going to the beach later like they planned. Lemon puts her sunglasses back on, and gets her words in order.
“She’s my friend.”
Jaida turns to look at her.
“Pri, I mean. She’s my friend, and I don’t have a lot of those.” Lemon digs her heel in the grass under the table. “If we date and it goes up in flames, we wouldn’t have that anymore.”
“Why do you jump straight to the worst case scenario?”
Lemon stares at Jaida.
“I’m serious. I know I’m not exactly a success story right now, but look at Jan. She got herself a wife and a kid. That could be you!”
“Ew, why would you say that to me?” Lemon says, scrunching her nose to make Jaida laugh. “Plus, I don’t know,” she shrugs, twisting around on the bench to sit like Jaida, her back to the table. “Our lives are so entangled, we have the same friends. A breakup would get messy.”
“Yeah,” Jaida sighs. “I know.”
Nicky’s move affected everyone. The whole city feels duller without Nicky taking them all to some underground bar, or niche art gallery or exclusive wine tasting slash build-your-own-furniture event that only Nicky could find.
Everybody feels her absence: she is missed by the kids, she is missed at the studio, there is a glaringly empty seat at Jackie’s table when they get together. And Jaida…
Lemon’s heart aches when she thinks back to that first week, when Jaida locked herself in her room for days, barely eating and missing work. It got bleak. Jan and herself had to force Jaida out of bed, followed by days of overseeing her eating habits, making her get dressed and go out, and not leaving her alone for long.
Lemon had seen her sister in bad states before. Sick, exhausted, heartbroken. But she had never seen her give up.
It took many tears and many sleepless nights to bring Jaida back to some semblance of normalcy. They can only hope the worst has passed.
“Your turn,” Lemon says, throwing her empty cup into a garbage can.
“Huh?”
“I opened up and got all vulnerable, now you go. Why is Nicky across the Atlantic right now?”
Jaida shifts in her seat.
“Can we leave this for when I’m less hungover?”
“If you don’t start talking, I’ll scream in your ear at the top of my lungs.”
“Fine,” Jaida relents, shuddering. She’s silent for a few moments. Groups of people stroll by with the carefree air of summer days. “I can’t give her what she wants.”
Lemon frowns.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, for the future. We want different things.”
“What does she want?”
“The typical stuff,” Jaida says with a dismissive wave of the hand.”
“But like, what is that? Have you even asked her?”
“She wants what everybody wants, Lemon,” Jaida snaps. “She wants to get married and get a house, and probably have kids, and a girlfriend who won’t leave for months on tour.”
Jaida sees Lemon’s expression and steadies herself.
“If I’d made her stay…” Jaida continues, quieter this time. “If I asked her to stay, I would owe her too much. I would have to stay more often, for her, and I can’t do that. We shouldn’t have to give up on our careers just to be together.”
Lemon blinks at her. She looks over Jaida’s back, hoping Jan will show up to deal with this topic that Lemon doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Jaida’s mommy issues are way above her paygrade.
When Jan doesn’t magically materialize by their side to save the day, however, Lemon has to do her best.
“Have you asked her?” she repeats.
Jaida’s lips tighten into a thin line.
“No.”
Lemon smiles at Jaida and bumps her shoulder, trying to dissolve some of the heaviness between them.
“Where do you get off preaching openness and communication, then?”
“I’m gonna play the ‘big sister’ card and tell you to do as I say, not as I do.”
Lemon laughs and lets the subject drop. She got some wheels turning in Jaida’s brain, and that’s enough for now. They couldn’t keep talking either way, because a minute later, Priyanka and the kids join their table.
“Well, these little monsters terrorized the haunted house,” says Priyanka with a proud smile, sitting with Gigi while Crystal climbs Jaida’s lap. “I hope you two had fun, because they’ll never let us back in there,” she tells the kids.
“Pity, you would have made such a good swamp monster,” Lemon says.
Priyanka smirks.
“Hey, Crys? Show Lemon your growl.”
Crystal roars loudly in Lemon’s ear until it makes her slump face down on the table.
“Oof, not so loud, baby,” whines Jaida, the unfortunate casualty. “Aunty Jai is not feeling so good.”
Jaida glares at Priyanka, who has the decency to look apologetic. Then, she starts playing with Lemon’s hair until the girl lifts her head from the table, and Jaida can’t be mad anymore.
________________________________________________________________________
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Jackie’s eyes snap away from her laptop to the bedroom door, where Jan stands with her arms crossed and her sternest look.
If Jan learned that from Teresa, Jackie may have to postpone the meet-the-parents for some time. Like forever.
“Just sending an email,” she squeaks out. Although, why is she acting like a scolded child? She’s an adult with a job. “A work email,” she says, sitting up straighter on the bed, defiant.
From Jan’s look, it’s the wrong move.
Slowly, Jan walks to the bed. Jackie gulps. Jan takes the laptop and moves it to the bedside table.
“Wait—”
“There are no work emails on vacation,” Jan says, claiming the space on Jackie’s lap.
“But I—”
The protests drown in a fervent kiss that pulls moans from Jackie’s lips. Jan swallows them gladly as she tangles her hands in Jackie’s hair, pulling and messing it up. She sits her full weight on Jackie’s lap and Jackie grabs greedy handfuls of her thighs, her ass, bringing her imposible closer.
Jan pulls back just enough that she’s still sharing Jackie’s ragged breaths.
“No work on vacation.”
“Okay,” Jackie agrees, already chasing Jan’s lips again and why was she arguing at all?
The lingering warmth of the afternoon comes in through the open window. Jan’s weight is heat on Jackie’s thighs, her center is fire against her belly and Jackie needs to feel more of her skin. She tugs at the hem of her shirt until it disappears somewhere on the floor.
Jackie leaves Jan’s lips for a second to drink her in, a soft beautiful the only thing she has time to say before kissing and licking new skin. Jan generously lets her have her way, for about two seconds. They have a miracle of a half hour in an empty house, and she has ideas. Ideas that don’t include letting Jackie anywhere near her laptop. She has a better use for her hands.
Jan likes her thighs bruised, she’s learned. When she walks, she carries the slight ache of Jackie’s thumbprints with her. Now Jackie spreads her open on the bed and digs into soft flesh, marking skin untouched by sunlight, paler than the rest of Jan’s summer tan. Jackie leaves her mark high enough to hide it from everyone’s eyes but theirs. Meticulous, careful, she soothes every bruise with her tongue.
“Jackie,” Jan whines when Jackie gets too lost in her thighs without moving higher.
“Yes?” Jackie asks, faking ignorance.
Jan simply lifts her hips, frustrated.
“Say what you need, baby,” Jackie says, smiling against Jan’s thigh. At her silence, she bites.
“Hmm, please,” Jan whimpers, hips lifting again until Jackie holds her down. “I— God.” She hooks her fingers under Jackie’s jaw and makes her look up. Jan’s big pleading eyes pierce through her. “Please eat me out?”
Jackie moans and takes Jan in her mouth. Her rewards are hands pulling her hair, nails scratching her shoulders and loud whines in her ears.
“More, please.”
Jackie replaces her tongue with her fingers to speak.
“My sweet girl, so polite.” Jan’s hips stutter at the praise. “So well behaved. How many do you need, baby?”
“T-two”
Jackie lowers her mouth again and slides two fingers inside her, smoothly.
“Did you feel how easy that was?” she teases.
“Hmm, Jackie, don’t be mean,” Jan says with a shy smile.
“I love that you get this wet for me,” Jackie tells her sincerely. “It makes me feel proud.”
“All yours,” Jan whispers, her hips canting up. “I’m all yours.”
Jackie loses any semblance of composure she had. Her rhythm gets messier, she goes harder and faster until Jan’s stomach tenses and her hand wraps around Jackie’s wrist.
Jackie stills her movements. Jan’s chest heaves as they both try to control their breathing. Jackie kisses her skin tenderly, waiting for her to come down.
The hands in Jackie’s hair loosen their grip. With a gentle tug, Jan calls her up.
“Hey,” Jan greets with the dreamy smile she gets after coming. It may be Jackie’s favorite part.
“Hey.”
Jackie kisses her forehead and grabs blindly for the sheets to cover them both.
Jan brings Jackie to rest on her chest. The only noise in the whole house is their breathing, in sync with the waves. Jan traces shapes on Jackie’s back, dipping under her shirt, making her shiver.
Evening falls around them. The sky glows orange and warm and the sound of the ocean calls them to sleep. The only thing keeping Jackie awake is Jan’s hand, lifting her shirt higher and higher.
“Should we go make dinner?” Jan says, one last half-hearted attempt at being responsible.
“Hm. Later,” says Jackie, stretching up and finally taking off her shirt. Jan looks at her like the first time, like every time. “We’re on vacation.”
Jan grins.
“You learn fast.”
________________________________________________________________________
That night, Jaida bans Jan from the kitchen. This is also Jan’s vacation, after all, and Jaida will make her relax if she has to twist her arm to do it. She orders Jan to grab some beers, sit with her girlfriend on the back porch table and let her handle things.
She enlists Lemon’s reluctant and Priyanka’s much more useful help, and between the three of them they manage to have four pizzas ready to be cooked in the outdoor grill.
It’s a clear night of bright stars and crisp, cold air. They light citronella candles that flicker in the dim light of the porch, and bring the chairs outside.
The kids set the table all on their own and only need to be told twice to stop running with knives. They set pillows on their chairs to reach the table and wait excitedly for the grownups to see how they made the table so pretty, with rows of seashells and napkins folded into abstract shapes that Crystal tells them are seagulls.
The grownups flatter and praise the kids’ work while filling their plates. It takes them both five seconds to get covered in sauce.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” Jackie asks the group once every plate is empty, as she dips a napkin in water to scrub Crystal’s cheeks.
“Oooh, I wanna take surfing lessons,” says Priyanka.
“In a day?” asks Jan. “You won’t even get to the water in one day.”
“What if I’m like, super good at it? It could be my hidden talent.”
“I vote we go see Priyanka eat shit on a surfboard,” says Lemon, raising her hand.
“Changed my mind,” Jan says, “that sounds fun.”
“You’re all such haters,” Priyanka frowns, crossing her arms.
Sitting sideways on the big porch couch she dragged to the table, with her legs swinging from the armrest, Jaida watches the back and forth. With a sly glance at Lemon, she holds up her phone and tries to sneak a picture of all of them.
“Who are you texting?” Lemon says immediately.
“Nobody, shut up,” Jaida says, focused on her phone.
“Tell her we say hi,” Jan chimes in with a kind smile.
Jaida returns it.
From: Jai
Pizza nuit!
Jai sent a picture
Jan dit bonjour
From: Nickyyy
Horrible. Google Translate again?
Je vous aime tous beaucoup
Gigi is about to drop their glass
Jaida rescues the glass on the edge of the table.
From: Jai
Nous t'aimons aussi
From: Nickyyy
Better ;)
________________________________________________________________________
Jackie never stops feeling impressed —and grateful— by how the kids pass out the second their heads touch the pillow after a long day at the beach. She barely gets through “once upon a time” and they are out.
She holds her own yawn as she climbs down the stairs to find everyone wide awake, bringing the plates and leftovers from dinner inside and talking loudly. Her chatterboxes don’t stop day or night.
Jackie thinks back to how quiet her life was not so long ago, the two-people house, her small but wonderful family with Gigi. And it was enough —Gigi would always be enough, but now Jan runs to kiss her on the stairs, leads her to the kitchen where Jaida hands her a bottle of the only beer Jackie likes and they fill the kitchen and the whole house with happy voices.
Jackie rests one arm around Jan’s shoulders and takes a swig of her beer, pressing the cold bottle on her heated temple. It’s been a long few days of pure sunshine.
“What do you think, babe?” Jan asks her, shifting to support more of Jackie’s weight.
“Hm?”
“I said we should walk on the beach!” says Jaida. “It’s gorgeous out and we’re leaving tomorrow.”
Jackie’s answer is cut off by a yawn that she tries to hide. It’s too early to be this tired. The sisters are perky as ever, and it makes Jackie feel… old.
“You should go without us, Jai,” Jan says, without taking her eyes off Jackie. “Someone should stay with the kids.”
“No, let’s go,” Jackie says. “We can leave for ten minutes. The kids’ room even faces the beach.”
Jan searches her face for insincerity, but finds nothing. She smiles.
“Okay.”
“Okay!”
Jaida hops off the counter and skips to the backdoor, the other two following suit, hand in hand. Jaida opens the door, steps outside and freezes.
Slowly, she steps back, closes the door again and turns to face Jan and Jackie.
She looks like she saw a ghost.
“Yeah, we can’t go outside,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because our little sister’s on the porch, straddling Priyanka.”
Jan’s hands fly to her mouth and she squeals.
“I don’t know if I’m more happy or grossed out.”
“Grossed out, for sure,” Jaida gags, rubbing her eyes.
“Let’s go through the front door,” Jackie whispers, trying to get them away unnoticed. “We can sneak around the house and still go to the beach.”
“Please,” Jaida shudders. “I need my eyes cleansed.”
It gets so cold by the sea once the sun goes down. Jaida’s a Fall girl, but when she’s at the beach she expects seventy five and above all day. That’s the fantasy.
Still, it’s their last day. She takes off her shoes and gets knee deep in the water.
Behind her, Jan and Jackie speak in soft voices, drowned out by the waves.
Jaida closes her eyes. The wind deafens her, the waves rise, she shivers. There’s a strong pull from the phone in her hand that hasn’t left her side since… since.
Nicky hates getting sand in her hair, but she still would’ve followed her to the water. She would have run after the kids until she collapsed, would have sunbathed with Lemon and cooked with Jan and shared one or two smokes with Jackie outside, late at night, watching the stars.
Her absence feels louder than ever.
There are so many things Jaida could say. I miss you is too personal. You’re missed, too detached.
Why does the moon look so shitty in pictures? is just right.
It’s four in the morning in France. Jaida still stares at their chat, waiting.
“I want to come here again, in the summer,” Jan says.
“I’m in,” says Jackie, hooking her chin on Jan’s shoulder as she hugs her waist. Her eyes are closing even as she speaks. “For longer. And maybe in a bigger house.”
“Completely,” says Jan. “The seven of us in that little shoebox for more than three days? Mama, armageddon.”
It warms Jaida’s heart. She’s invited, implicitly.
She pockets her phone.
They stare at the waves for a long time, in calm silence.
“I’m freezing,” Jaida says after a while, shivering and going back to the house.
They go quietly upstairs, but Jaida stops at the door of the bedroom she’s sharing with Lemon and Priyanka.
“Take our bed,” Jackie says before Jaida can voice her concerns.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, we can stay with the kids,” Jan says. “I noticed last night that their bed is bigger than ours. We got played.”
They bid Jaida goodnight and disappear in the bedroom.
Jaida is tired.
It was a long day, a long weekend really, and she is tired.
Jaida can’t sleep.
The bed is too big on all sides, too cold.
She used to have a queen bed at her parents’ house. Half the time, one or both of her sisters would sleep there after watching a movie or staying up talking, hiding their giggles on the pillows, trying not to wake up their parents.
Tonight, her sisters fall asleep in different beds. And Jaida is… fine. She’s fine. Hangover and all, she had a great day after a great night. It’s been a nice vacation with her favorite people, and she’s grateful, she really is.
She turns on one side, then the other. Her phone waits on the bedside table. She turns away from it and pulls the covers over her face.
From: Nickyyy
I think you just suck at taking pictures, because look at this sunrise:
Nickyyy sent you a picture
Going to work, Jai. Send my love to everyone!
________________________________________________________________________
The last day, like any last day, is melancholic. Crystal cries at the sea and tells it she will miss it, and Gigi won’t get out of the water until Jackie sets her foot down.
They stay at the beach until the last minute possible, meaning they have to rush home and finish packing in a hurry. If Jackie says so herself, she does a great job of tampering down her anxiety and not pestering everyone. Jan still squeezes her hand soothingly whenever they cross paths.
They finish quickly, even with the kids running around, even with Lemon and Priyanka busy giggling and doing googly eyes at each other. They’re packed inside the car before they know it.
“Say bye to the beach, guys.”
“Bye, beach!” the kids yell, waving with their bodies halfway out of the car window.
“See you in the summer,” says Jan, kissing Jackie’s hand as she starts the way home. “Right?”
“Yes,” says Jackie.
From the passenger seat, she can stare at Jan shamelessly, since her girl is focused on the road. She got a subtle tan and some freckles on her nose. She looks blonder. She looks perfect.
In the rearview mirror, she can see Lemon and Priyanka trying to teach Crystal the same game of hands but with slightly different rules, both arguing over which version is the “real” version. Gigi displays her new seashells to Jaida one by one with descriptions, and Jaida listens intently. Jan slides on her sunglasses and flicks on the radio, switching stations until everyone is content.
“Yes. We’ll be back.”
#rpdr fanfiction#jankie#lemon x priyanka#jaida x nicky#crygi#jackie cox#jan sport#jaida essence hall#lemon#priyanka#crystal methyd#gigi goode#fluff#angst#smut#jankie parenthood au#mar#concrit welcome
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Valerie Powell Master Post
જ⁀➴₊⊹ This is a refresh of my previous master post for Valerie (available here).
✧ BASICS ✧
Full Name: Valerie Irene Powell
Pronouns: She/her
Date of Birth: 12 Oct 2041
Place of Birth: Charter Hill, Night City
Height: 5'10" (178 cm)
Weight: ~150 lbs
Body Type: Athletic, curvy
Eye Color: Dark blue-gray
Hair Color: Blue (cerulean or sapphire) (brown-black naturally)
✧ PERSONALITY & SKILLS ✧
MBTI: ISFJ
Lifepath: Corpo-rat
Combat Style: Pistols, long-range rifles, tech attacks/hacking
Languages:
- English (native)
- Japanese (full professional proficiency)
- Spanish (elementary proficiency)
✧ RELATIONSHIPS ✧
Father: Sebastian Powell (deceased)
Mother: Ava Powell (née Mercan; deceased) [tag]
Siblings: None
Other Relatives:
- Edward Powell (uncle; estranged)
- Nicolas Mercan (uncle; estranged)
Closest Friends:
- Jackie Welles
- Viktor Vektor
Partners:
- Kristen Hughes (ex; committed relationship)
- Viktor Vektor (ex; fling)
- Goro Takemura (married in 2081)
✧ NOTES ✧
- Although in-game she has the corpo lifepath, Valerie's career history is pretty varied before she joins counter-intel: Biotechnica data analyst, a slew of random service jobs, hostess (with a side hustle helping Jackie con some of her more notorious clients), and Arasaka security (which is how she met Jenkins).
- Valerie doesn't dye her hair blue--She did when she first made the change, but she uses a cosmetic nanotech implant to alter the color of the strands at the root.
- She had a very non-traditional education: Valerie was in the Night City public school system for elementary school, but she was pulled out when her maternal grandparents insisted on funding extensive private tutoring until she was 18. Learning Japanese was a part of that curriculum.
- Her father was also very steadfast about the right to bear arms, and she was just 7 years old when she first learned how to handle firearms.
- Valerie doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs. Addiction runs in both sides of her family, and she made the choice to go sober when she was about 27 years old. (Caffeine is the one exception--She needs several strong cups of coffee to get through the day.)
- She doesn't have any tattoos, but she does have multiple piercings in both ears and a naval piercing.
Tags and relevant links updated under the cut:
Last updated: 10 Jan 24
✧ VALERIE'S TAGS ✧
💙 oc: valerie v powell
💖 fave: valerie v powell
🖼️ art: valerie v powell
🔖 fic: valerie v powell
✨ oc inspo: valerie v powell
💑 ship: goro x valerie
💖 fave: goro x valerie
🖼️ art: goro x valerie
🔖 fic: goro x valerie
🎬 outtakes: goro x valerie
🪄 muse fuel: goro x valerie
🐺 au: cyber witchers
🌊 au: corpo naiad
🛡️ au: corporate loyalty
🏜️ au: the open road
🧭 au: i only play for sport
✧ CHARACTER SHEETS & MEMES ✧
Valerie Character Sheet
Valerie and Goro Ship Sheet
Valerie's Style Evolution (2060-2079)
Valerie's Corpo Lookbook
Valerie's Speech Mannerisms
Valerie's Character Influences
Valerie OC Profile
Valerie Aesthetics I
Valerie Aesthetics II
OC Tarot Card
OC Tag: Song Challenge
Unusual Muse Associations
Valerie's Affiliations
Valerie + Goro Relationship Card
Valerie's Name Meanings
Late Summer Aesthetics
Valerie's Rage Language
✧ META & PERSONAL REFLECTIONS ✧
Valerie and validating my sobriety
Valerie if she was a canon character
Valerie as an ISFJ and how she expresses love/sexuality
Valerie and being "Goro's thief"
Valerie and marriage
Valerie and not trusting Johnny
Gushing about Valerie!
Valerie on Evelyn and "straddling worlds"
On sex in the corpo world
Valerie and Jenkins' relationship
Valerie and being sensitive & honest in a cruel world
She's Valerie, not V (also BTS lore about her surname)
No love at first sight here
Musing on Valerie's background in Arasaka security
Summary of counter-intel events and Valerie's career history
Valerie's ability to read people
No one is ever free in Night City
Wanting to play more "pro-corpo" as a corpo
Valerie does think being with a corp is her best choice
Thoughts on my first experience with the Devil ending
Giving Goro and Valerie a happy ending
Early musing on the endgame options and being an engram
Valerie taking in the early morning views
✧ VIDEOS & CLIPS ✧
Valerie leaving a voicemail to Jackie post-heist
Valerie's In-Game Playlist on YouTube
"See a woman here with blue hair?"
#cyberpunk 2077#cyberpunk 2077 oc#cyberpunk 2077 v#oc: valerie v powell#g: cyberpunk 2077#t: oc lists#probs gonna update her pic later#the downside of taking shots almost exclusively in portrait for a year?#no good shots for banners and the like lmao#also i had to stop myself from rambling too much in the little notes section#one of these days i'll sit down and actually write/edit her full pre-game bio
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Open Heart F/AotW List - Jan 21-27, 2024
✒️= Fanfic | c= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart
Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+
🏳️🌈 = LGBTQIA | 🔹Submitted by creator
BRYCE LAHELA
Baby Kaili Countdown 📱🔹| Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @genevievemd
Baby Makes Three 📱🔹| Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @genevievemd
Bryce Lahela x Rafael Aveiro Fanart 🎨🔹 by @artbyalz
Losing Game (2/4) ✒️🔹| Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @peonierose
ETHAN RAMSEY
Daddy's Girl ✒️🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter
A Different Fate (Series) ✒️🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter
A Different Fate: Final Chapter
Drink Had Me ✒️🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @cariantha
PENsive ✒️🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter
When Life Has Other Plans (9/16) (Series) ✒️🔹| Ethan Ramsey, Louise Ramsey - @coffeeheartaddict2
Time Does Not Heal Old Wounds
JACKIE VARMA
Different Destinations ✒️🔹| Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Jackie Varma - @jerzwriter
OPEN HEART MC
Baby Jensen Fanart 🎨🔹(OH M!MC) by @mydemonsdrivealimo
TOBIAS CARRICK
Cute But Trouble ✒️| Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890
Different Destinations ✒️🔹| Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Jackie Varma - @jerzwriter
CFWC Main F/AotW List
#open heart#open heart fanfic#open heart choices#bryce lahela#ethan ramsey#jackie varma#tobias carrick#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#cfwc art of the week#playchoices#playchoices fanfic#playchoices fanart#choices stories you play
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Newly Added Fics
Jan 20 - 26, 2024
🎭 Angst | 🦚 Angsty Fluff | 🛸 AU | ☁ Fluff | ♥ NSFW | 📚 Series | 📷 Edit | 📱 TextFic | Ⓜ Mature
Bryce x F!MC
Baby Kaili - @genevievemd 📱
Bryce and Natalie are proud parents of Kaili Marie Lahela.
Countdown | Announcement
Losing Game - @peonierose 📚
[mini: wip] Bryce comes back from visiting his father in prison. Though he didn’t tell Luna. Will things work out between them? Or will they drift further apart?
Part 2
Ethan x F!MC
A Different Fate - @jerzwriter 📚
[mini: complete] Kaycee and Ethan reminisce about a time gone by.
Part 5
Clucking Amazing! - @jerzwriter 📱
Ethan makes a startling discovery on the streets of Boston, and he can't wait to share it with Kaycee.
Drink Had Me - @cariantha ☁
Ethan has too much to drink and winds up on Sawyer’s doorstep in the middle of the night.
[Drunk]
Pen-sive - @jerzwriter ☁
Something is missing, and Kaycee is not amused.
Whatever It Takes - @liaromancewriter 📱
Cassie knows becoming a doctor requires hard work, but sometimes it's too much.
When life has other plans - @coffeeheartaddict2 📚🛸
[extended: wip] A competition has commenced for the interns at Edenbrook hospital. A horrid first day leads to an unexpected test of a new machine but what is Dr. Ethan Ramsey hiding?
CH 9: Time does not heal old wounds
Jackie Varma
Different Destinations - @jerzwriter ☁
Casey & Jackie are spending a Sunday afternoon together; it's just like their roomie days - but then again, it's not.
Pietro & Azul - @jerzwriter ☁
Jackie is housesitting for her friends Casey & Tobias. It's been going well until that terrifying last night. Feat. Tobias Carrick
Rafael x F!MC
Moving In - @rafasgirl23415 📚
[extended: wip] Follow up to We Belong Together. Set a few years into the future.
CH 12: Girls Night In
CH 13: Our Little Ballerina
Tobias x F!MC
Different Destinations - @jerzwriter ☁
Casey & Jackie are spending a Sunday afternoon together; it's just like their roomie days - but then again, it's not. Feat. Jackie Varma
_
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Through the World's Far Ends
Pairing: Leonard Bast x Helen Schlegel (Howards End)
Summary: Several years after his ill-fated affair with Helen, Leonard enlists to fight in World War I, hoping it would put an end to his miserable life. However, when he runs into Helen again in the trenches of Passchendaele, Leonard discovers that life may still be worth living after all.
Warnings: angst, mentions of war, violence, and injuries, implied infidelity, suicide ideations
Word count: 7.2k
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Those lines echoed in Leonard's ears as he looked over the mud-churned fields of Passchendaele that rainy October day of 1917. Had he read them ten years ago, back when he was still a boy of barely twenty-one with a head full of dreams and a heart full of poetry, he would have marveled at their beautiful ideal, their quiet exultation. Now, he couldn't help but snicker at them for their hopeless sentimentality. If there was anything of England in these foreign fields at all, it probably wouldn't be the England that pretty, posh Rupert Brooke was thinking about. No, it would be the England that Leonard himself was familiar with, the England of damp basement dwellings, of grimy streets, of cold and hunger, and long, tedious nights.
And if he should die, there would be no one to think of him. Not his brother and his two sisters, who had long ago given up on him. Certainly not Jacky, who would never have let him enlist had she still been alive. Poor Jacky. She had been rather excited when the war first broke out. To be honest, so had he. There had been a fevered exhilaration in the air, a sense of purpose in everything and everyone, hectic but thrilling at the same time, which had distracted the two of them, for a moment, from the miserable humdrum of their existence.
Still, for all that excitement, Jacky wouldn't hear of him enlisting, even though it would've at least solved their immediate financial problem—the Army pay wasn't much, but it would be something for her to live on. But she had burst into tears whenever he mentioned it. "No, Len!" she'd kept saying, clinging to him as if afraid Lord Kitchener would come to personally snatch him away. "If something happened to you, how would I live?"
Leonard had been tempted to say that if he should be killed, she could count on a war widow's pension, but Jacky had become so hysterical that he'd only given her a clumsy hug and said, "All right, Jacky, I won't go," while trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.
When she succumbed to the consumption that had been slowly eating away at her, a little over a year later, Leonard had sincerely mourned her. She had been his constant companion, for better or worse, for nearly ten years, and when she was gone, she left a void, if not in his heart then at least in his life. While she was alive, he had to find ways to provide for her, to take care of her. Without her, he was without a purpose.
After Jacky died, he'd thought that he would simply flicker out and die too. But he found that it was not so simple. Living had become a habit, and like any habit, it was difficult to shake off. And so he had enlisted, only waiting a decent period after Jacky's funeral so it wouldn't seem he was defying her memories. He didn't much care about the war. He only thought that if he couldn't give up his life on his own, he would let others snuff it out. He completed his training and was sent to Belgium just before conscription was introduced, in January 1916.
But even in the war, death eluded him. His health, which had suffered from malnourishment and the smog and grimes of London, actually improved thanks to Army food and regular, if strenuous, exercises. He didn't mind the cold and the wet and the mud of the trenches. And though he had seen men die in front of him, men blown to bits by shells, men cut to ribbons by barbed wires, men blistered and blinded and cooked inside out by mustard gas, and men who drowned in the mud because their friends were forbidden to pull them out, though death was all around him, he remained more or less untouched.
To be fair, he didn't exactly go looking for death. He thought that before he died, he should make himself useful and do what he could to help others, so he did. He followed orders without asking questions, bent his head under the explosions and the gas and the horrible weather and did as he was told. He tried not to shoot when he could help it, and when he did shoot, tried not to aim at anyone in particular. He didn't want that on his conscience as well. He preferred the menial work, never shying from digging and repairing the trenches, acting as a stretcher bearer, and carrying supplies to the front.
What he really wanted was to stop thinking. Once, a long time ago, during the darkest time of his life, and also the best time of his life, he'd wished for something to do, to stop him from thinking. Now he believed that if he toiled hard enough, made himself tired enough, he would be able to stop thinking. It didn't quite work yet. Even on days when he'd only had an hour or two of sleep, the thoughts kept coming, slowly but inexorably—about death, about Jacky, about things he'd done and hadn't done, about things he had buried deep in his mind—all rattling inside his skull like lunatics rattling the bars of their cages. The one thing he didn't think about was the future, for there was no future. The war may never end, and for some people, it would never end. Leonard had seen enough wounded men and shell-shocked men and men with scars deep within them, where nobody could see except for those who knew where to look, and he understood that those men would never come back from the war, regardless of what happened to them. Sometimes he wondered if he would be one of them.
Such thoughts were presently crowding his head as he turned over in the dugout, trying to find a comfortable position. There was a lull in the racket of gunfire and shellfire and rain, and he wanted to get some rest—not sleep, he had forgotten what it was like to really sleep for months now—before nightfall. A new shipment of supplies had just been brought in that day on mules and wagons, and Leonard's infantry unit would be assigned to haul these to the front after dusk fell.
The other men in the dugout were squabbling. Leonard didn't mind the bickering. In fact, he welcomed their voices to drown out the thoughts in his head. It appeared Percy Armitage had received some gramophone records in the post that had come with the supplies, but due to some accident or carelessness, the sleeves had been misplaced, and now they were arguing which was which and which to play first. The men were often sent little gifts like that from home, and these were freely shared amongst them all—it was how Leonard became acquainted with the works of Rupert Brooke and other war poets. Though books these days no longer held the allure and enchantment they once had for him, they were something to relieve the boredom in the trenches. All his life, Leonard had wished he could discuss books and music and culture with easiness, an easiness that did not come easily for men of his class. He thought, with a grim sense of smugness, that he could do so now, provided that the books were about the horrors of war.
"Lads, lads," Percy, a veteran of the Boer War and therefore older than most of them, was saying, like a stern but benevolent father to his children. "You shall all get a turn. But these are my records, and I'm going to choose first."
There was a scratching sound of the needle being lowered onto the record. The first soft notes floated out, and as if by magic, all the men fell silent, enraptured by the unimaginably normal, everyday sound of music.
But Leonard was mistaken—the music wasn't soft, not at all. For a moment, it seemed the shellfire and the thunder were coming in the middle of the day instead of at night as usual, as the first notes did not float but boomed from the gramophone, followed by bursts of what sounded like rapid gunfire that chased each other around the cramped dugout. While the music built and built, Leonard could almost hear the chill wind that blew across the battlefield, feel the drumming of the rain on his skin, and see, under his closed eyelids, the men jumping up from the trenches during a raid or slinking across No Man's Land for a reconnaissance in a moonless night. Herr Beethoven had never been to the trenches of Belgium, so how the devil did he capture it so well in his music? For it was, indeed, Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, such as Leonard hadn't heard in years and years.
And, as though stirred by the music, memories surfaced—the gallery at Covent Garden, the music halls, the evenings he could get away from his desk at Porphyrion early enough to lose himself for a few hours in music and culture, but he never quite managed to lose himself in it, not really, no matter how diligently he attended the operas and the concerts, no matter how many books he read, he knew all the names but could never form his own opinion about them. And another memory, one of those he had buried away—a girl, her hair coming loose under her hat, her eyes, so bright they lit up the dreary interior of the Prince Regent's Hall, transfixed on the orchestra while she swayed slightly to the music, her elbow almost touching his a few times.
For the first time in seven years, Leonard allowed himself to think of her a little.
Helen. Miss Schlegel. His Miss Schlegel. No, not his. Never his.
He'd looked at her with wonder and envy then, in the gloom of the Prince Regent's Hall, like a failed artist looking at a painting in the National Gallery. Why did the music move her so? What was she hearing that he wasn't? What did one have to do to acquire such passion? Even back then he'd known, this was something he could never attain, something he could never be, and that was what had drawn him to her. He'd always tried to pursue beauty, always on some hopeless quest for it, but only ended up getting sucked down into the mud—not that different from where he was now, really.
In the past seven years, he had become quite adept at not thinking about her. Whenever he saw something that reminded him of her—and a lot of things reminded him of her—he would immediately find something else to think of, was there anything left in the cupboard for supper, whether he could persuade the landlord to hold off the rent collection for another week, whether it was too soon to write to one of his sisters, Blanche or Laura, again, to ask for money. He'd think and think furiously until all thoughts of Helen were pushed from his mind. He did it almost automatically now. It had turned into a habit, like everything else.
But here, in this cramped and clammy dugout, that habit had deserted him. Even some hours later, when he lifted the heavy pack full of hot rations on his back and walked out into the rain and the cold, she still occupied his thoughts, slow and dull as they were from lack of sleep. He stepped on the duckboards that crisscrossed the muddy landscape, one small figure in a long snaking line of similar figures, while shells and bullets whizzed by him, while the sweet stink of rot and the acrid smell of mustard gas assaulted his nostrils, while rain drummed on his tin hat, but he hardly noticed any of them. His mind was filled with Helen, Helen when he'd first seen her at the Prince Regent's Hall, Helen in her bright dining room at Wickham Place, her head tipped to the side as she urged him to talk about his walking, enthusiasm aflame in her eyes. And most of all, Helen when he'd last seen her. He heard her gently chiding voice, saw her face full of sympathy when she discovered the squalor in which he and Jacky had been living, felt the force of her righteous fury as she tried to help them, dragging them to confront the man she believed had been responsible for their misfortune—Henry Wilcox, the then-fiancé of Helen's sister, Margaret.
He thought of other things as well, things buried even deeper. He remembered the fire-lit room in the hotel in Oniton, the utter shame and despair he'd felt when he revealed the truth about Mr. Wilcox and Jacky to Helen, the tears in Helen's eyes as she drew him to her, her arms around him, comforting and seeking comfort at the same time, her mouth trembling under his, their bodies finding each other like two magnets, or perhaps two drowning victims in a heaving sea.
He wondered if she ever thought of him.
Probably not.
He wondered if she was still living in Germany. Margaret, Mrs. Wilcox, had told him so, on that freezing spring day seven years ago, when he trudged to the Wilcoxes' residence on Ducie Street in the hope of finding someone, anyone, to whom to confess his sin. Upon finding out from Mrs. Wilcox that Helen had been traveling in Germany and perhaps planning to stay there indefinitely, the confession died on his lips. He'd thought he knew her reason for staying away. Helen had asked her brother to send him a check of five thousand pounds, but the sight of it, with his guilt still so fresh in his mind, had burned Leonard so much that he'd returned it. At Ducie Street, he'd looked into Mrs. Wilcox's sharp and sad eyes, wondering what she knew, how much Helen had told her. Fear and shame had choked his voice, and he had gone back to his basement, unabsolved.
He had been so desperate, the remorse corroding him so relentlessly that he'd almost confessed to Jacky. But he'd held himself back. If he hadn't managed to control himself with Helen, then at least he had to control himself with Jacky. Telling her would have achieved nothing except to selfishly force her to bear the pain with him, and Jacky wouldn't have been able to bear it. Leonard had argued with himself that Jacky's affair with Mr. Wilcox might have driven him and Helen into each other's arms, but it didn't change the fact that Jacky had been the innocent party in his affair with Helen. It would have been cruel to deprive her of that innocence. And so Leonard had kept quiet and was determined never to think of Helen again, until now.
The irons of guilt were still there, but time and the horrors he'd witnessed in the war had blunted the edges, leaving only a kind of bittersweet nostalgia. Yes, he had done wrong and lost control of himself. But he had also gotten an adventure out of it, had seen and touched and tasted something of beauty. And hadn't he paid enough for his crime in the seven years since? So perhaps that was all right. He only wished Helen didn't have to pay as well.
Lost in his memories, Leonard didn't notice a shell exploding right next to him. He didn't feel the shrapnel hit him. He was only momentarily confused when the world went mute and turned sideways, but even that confusion didn't last long, for he soon had his answer when he fell off the duckboards and sank into the mud.
His last thought was, I hope they don't pull me out.
And then, the mud came over his head, and finally, mercifully, he stopped thinking.
***
In the field ambulance of the Women's Hospital Corps, Helen Schlegel was sitting down with a cigarette. What she really wanted was some hot cocoa, to have the thick sweet taste of it remind her of lazy evenings at Wickham Place, curled up on the bed with Meg and Tibby, talking about their day, laughing over nothing at all, in those carefree years that seemed a lifetime ago. But the supplies had run out, so she had to make do with a cigarette. She had been on her feet for nearly fourteen hours, and had only had about three hours of sleep before that, though she hardly felt tired anymore. Exhaustion was now a state of being, and she had gotten used to it, just as she had gotten used to a lot of things since joining the Corps two years ago. Even after the main Women's Hospital closed in Paris in 1915 and a new one opened in London, she had elected to stay with the field hospital, despite Meg's pleas for her to come home.
If Helen was honest with herself, she would admit that she was rather apprehensive about returning home. She hadn't stepped foot on English soil in seven years. When the war broke out, she had decided to stay in Munich, where she had been living at the time—after all, she was half-German, and she felt that to turn her back on Germany would equal turning her back on her own late father. Besides, there was a huge upsurge of anti-German hatred in England, as Meg had written to her. Tibby had had some trouble when enlisting due to his German last name. But it soon became clear that she could no longer go on living in Germany, if for nothing else than the simple reason of food shortage. Her German cousins were struggling themselves and could not help. So Helen had gotten on a train with every intention of returning to England, when her route brought her to Paris and the Women's Hospital there. Suddenly she'd found a place where she could be of use, since she spoke French and German and could help both patients and doctors. When Helen wrote to tell her sister she was staying, Meg had come to Paris herself, looking thin and worn-out, with gray in her hair. Her husband, Henry, had recently died. Henry's children, who had never quite accepted their father's second marriage, had kept their distance, and Meg had been living by herself in Howards End. Helen had briefly considered coming home to keep her sister company, but she'd decided she could do more good on the battlefield. So she'd told Meg to take care, and stayed.
When asked about her family, Helen always said that she'd lost her husband in the Somme. It was easier than the truth, though she believed that her fellow nurses and the doctors would not care or judge her if they knew. They were all women, most of them her age or older than her, but not by much, some younger, eager-eyed graduates from Oxford and Cambridge, and had seen a lot in their training. Looking at them, Helen wished she had gone to college, had done something more worthwhile with her youth. Oh, she had filled her days with plenty of pursuits, certainly, but what good had those done her, or anybody else, for that matter? Quite the opposite, in fact. It had all been frivolous, the meetings, the causes, the anger, and had led only to heartache and tragedy, not only for herself but for her family and for others as well. Yes, one good and beautiful thing had come from all that, but it was a miracle that it had existed at all, and Helen had to remind herself that the result of beauty did not absolve her of the sin she'd committed in creating it. She supposed it was why she had been so keen on staying at the front to help the wounded. She wished to atone.
And here was another chance for atonement—some stretcher-bearers were trudging toward the ambulance tent, their gait heavy and plodding. Helen sighed. She wasn't expecting to get any sleep—nighttime at the front was rarely quiet—but she'd had a letter from Meg and had been hoping to read it. Well, it could wait. She took one last drag of her cigarette, stubbed it out, and went out to meet the men.
When she first laid eyes on the form lying on the stretcher, in the gloom at the entrance of the tent, Helen thought the bearers were playing a practical joke and bringing them a load of sandbags. As they walked further into the light, she saw that it was not sandbags but a man, a man almost completely encased in mud. There were orders not to stop for anyone who fell off the duckboards, since doing so would hold up the line, but the stretcher-bearers explained that this man had been carrying hot rations, and the others, wanting to save his pack, had pulled him out along with it. The hot food had been recovered, so now here was the man—saved almost as an afterthought. Lucky bastard.
The women of the Corps didn't care who the wounded were, British or French or German, or why they were saved. So the mud-cased man was rolled off the stretcher onto a temporary bed. Helen and another nurse, Vera, who had left her history study at Queen's College in Cambridge to train with the Voluntary Aid Detachment, started picking off the mud in bloody chunks, dropping them into a bucket by the bed, and wiping off the residue with damp sponges. The man was still breathing, his chest moving up and down rapidly.
Vera removed the man's clothes with scissors and sucked in a breath. "He's got a lot of shrapnel in his legs, Helen," she said.
Helen continued to wash the man. "There's a lot on his back as well. I think he's going to need some morphine."
"I'll get it," Vera said and walked briskly off.
Under the sponge, the man shivered. "You seem to have a knack for finding me at my worst, Miss Schlegel," he said.
His voice was hoarse, clogged with mud, but it rang a bell in Helen's mind, a bell from far away and a long time ago, a time when she'd cared about music and art and social justice and fighting against the likes of Henry Wilcox. It had nothing to do with this world of mud and blood, when all she cared about was to help these men—boys, really—and to give them a little comfort while it still mattered. The war had simplified a lot of things for her. But apparently not enough, for here was the past, coming back for her in the form of—
"Mister Bast?" she asked, not quite believing it. "Leonard Bast?"
With trembling hands, she picked off the clay that had dried on his face like a death mask and gave him a quick wipe of the sponge. A pair of brown eyes, gentle and patient like those of a cocker spaniel's, blinked at her from under long lashes clumped together with mud.
"Good evening, Miss Schlegel," he said, with great difficulty.
Helen bolted up from the bed, heart hammering as if someone had trapped a machine gun in her chest.
Vera brought the morphine. "Are you all right, Helen?" she asked. "You're looking quite pale."
"I need some air," Helen managed to reply, before walking away, ignoring the bewildered look tinged with hurt in the brown eyes of the wounded man.
She ran out of the tent, into the cold and rain outside. The sky was a faded, patchy black cloth, lit up by the shells that flew and fell and exploded like fireworks. She couldn't tell if those shells came from the German side or the British side. She could only pray they didn't find their targets. A horrible smell hung in the air, the same smell that clung to her clothes and her hair and her sleep, the battlefield smell of death and gunpowder and mustard gas, but she breathed it in anyway, trying to clear her head and her heart.
Her first instinct was to weep, weep for the broken body covered in mud and the ruined, wheezing voice. Occasionally, she did weep over the wounded boys that came through the hospital, wept at the look in their eyes, sometimes imploring, sometimes reproachful, and at her own helplessness. But then came a burst of absurd joy, brighter than the shells exploding over her head. What did she have to be joyful about in this world, where boys were sent to die senselessly, meaninglessly? For a moment, she didn't care. He's here! Alive and—perhaps not well, exactly, but as well as could be! For a moment, she was that carefree girl again, curled up in bed with her brother and sister, comforted in the certainty that tomorrow would be exactly the same as today.
In the past seven years, if she thought about Leonard at all, it was often with regret and remorse. It was not that she wished she had behaved differently or things had turned out another way—no, never that. But she wished she could have given him some peace and let him know she never blamed him, so he mustn't blame himself. For she knew now what agony he'd lived through in all those years. One look at those eyes, so timid and frightened as they settled on her, and she knew. Yet there had been joy in those eyes as well, the same joy coursing through her that made her want to both laugh and cry.
Well, he was here now. If she wanted to let him know all that, she could. And she was finished with running away.
She went back inside. Vera was still washing Leonard's back, wiping away the seemingly inexhaustible mud. Helen took the sponge from her. "Let me do it," she said.
"Are you sure?" Vera asked. "You were very pale back there."
"I'm fine now. Go on, take your break." She handed Vera her pack of cigarettes.
With one last quizzical look at Helen, Vera pocketed the cigarettes and went out.
Leonard's eyes lit up as Helen sat down by the bed, and she felt her heart constrict, sweetly, painfully, in her chest.
"I thought you were a dream," he croaked.
"Don't try to talk," she said. It came out harsher than she'd intended. She asked him to move his fingers—good—move his toes—not good—turn his head—not so far, good—and told him she was going to remove the shrapnel now, short, business-like instructions and explanations, same as she did with all the wounded men.
"Have you been here all this time?" asked Leonard.
"We've been in Flanders since last year, yes."
He let out a small exhale, like a sigh, or perhaps a little laugh, amused at the twist of fate that had brought them together yet again.
"You're not pleased to see me," he said.
Helen reached for the tweezers, steadied her hand, and delicately picked a scrap of metal out of his flesh. "Don't be silly. I was shocked, that's all. It's not every day one finds a friend in a cake of mud."
"Is that what we are—friends?"
Were they? She didn't know what else to call him, what name she could give to the connection between them, fragile and near invisible yet indestructible as a strand of spider web. Henry Wilcox used to call Leonard her protégé, but she'd always hated how condescending that sounded. What then? Her lover? She didn't love him. What had happened between them that agonizing, intoxicating, magical night seven years ago was fueled by many things—pity, loneliness, even anger and a thirst for revenge—but not love. When she thought she'd fallen in love with Paul, Mr. Wilcox's youngest son, it had been madness. With Leonard, it had been madness as well, though a very different kind. She wasn't even sure if she was capable of loving someone in that way. Now, though, with her heart in turmoil and her hands shaking so much she was afraid she couldn't remove the shrapnel from his flesh without hurting him, Helen was no longer so sure.
So—a friend, then. It was inadequate, but it would have to do. She forced herself to say, as cheerfully as she could, "Yes, of course."
"I thought you'd be in England."
"I decided I would be more useful here."
They spoke politely, expressionlessly, like two passing acquaintances chatting at a train station's waiting room over cups of tea.
"How is—how's your family? Your brother and sister?"
"Tibby was wounded in Thiepval and was sent home last year. Meg is well. Her husband died, so she and—and Tibby are living at Howards End now. It's the Wilcoxes' country home, in Hertfordshire," she added, remembering that Leonard had never heard of Howards End.
Leonard was silent, then—"I'm sorry about Mr. Wilcox."
"I'm sorry for Meg. I've never liked him." Though she had come to understand Meg's love for Mr. Wilcox and no longer blamed the man for what happened with the Basts, Helen could never like him, personally. "How is Mrs. Bast?"
"She died, too," he said, his voice muted. "Consumption. Two years ago."
The tweezers froze between Helen's fingers. "Oh, Mr. Bast. I'm dreadfully sorry."
Leonard tried to shrug, but couldn't. They both fell quiet for a while. Helen thought about those who had gone and those who remained, like themselves, and how tangled their lives were, still. She also thought that Leonard had changed. Gone were his easily wounded pride, the bristling armor he clutched close to his person to protect himself from the world, and his desperate attempt at dignity. Now he gazed upon the world with more confidence, or perhaps simply with indifference, less troubled about what others thought of him. But he was sadder as well—indefinitely sadder, with that same faraway look in his eyes that she had seen in all of the wounded men that had gone through the hospital. She bent over his muddy body again.
"This large bit of shrapnel will have to come out under anesthetics," she said. "It can wait until the morning."
She finished getting out all the pieces of shrapnel she could, and slathered some antiseptic paste on the wounds. His body had changed as well. He was still thin and pale, but there was strength and a certain wiriness in him, and his paleness was simply due to the lack of sun, not from ill health. Muscles that she hadn't noticed before stood out in his back and shoulders. Then she realized she was caressing his back, blushed—and here she thought she'd forgotten how to blush—and pulled her hand away.
Leonard trembled again and grimaced. "I think—I think I'm getting my feelings back."
"Oh dear, how careless of me!" cried Helen. "I forgot—I'll give you some morphine for the pain." She injected the morphine, chattering inanely all the while, "It's good that you're feeling pain, you know. That means no nerves are damaged. But your leg is broken. I think you have a blighty one here. You'll have to go back to England." He looked away with a deep sigh, his eyes darkening, and didn't answer her. "You're not pleased about going home, Mr. Bast?"
"There's nothing for me to come home to."
If she wished to atone, then here was her chance. Yet for all her remorse, Helen had never once imagined what the scene of confession would look like, what she would say, what he would say. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bast—Leonard," she said.
Some light came back to his eyes when she called his name. "Sorry for what?"
"For running off that day—that morning—after—after—Oniton. For not explaining things afterward."
"There is nothing to explain." The light in his eyes dimmed again.
"Yes, there is. There is a lot to explain. Such as why I sent you that check—which, by the way, why did you send it back?"
"I told you, I didn't want your charity," he said through gritted teeth.
Helen smiled inwardly. Still that pride. So he hadn't changed after all, not that much. "It wasn't charity, you silly boy," she said, the term of endearment coming to her naturally. "I was—I was trying to right a wrong."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"Yes, I did. I ruined your life."
"And I ruined yours," he said. "So I suppose we're even."
Helen gazed at him for a long, long time. He looked back straight at her. He had only done so once before, and when she caught the blaze in his eyes, the memory of their night came back, giving her strength. Eventually, she said, "You didn't ruin my life, Leonard. You have given me the best thing I could ever hope for."
And while Leonard looked on, puzzled, she retreated to the nurses' station in a corner of the tent, in search of Meg's letter.
***
Leonard watched her go. He'd considered refusing the morphine. The pain didn't bother him much. It was like the little irons, the ones that used to scorch his insides whenever he thought of Helen, had returned, only they were on the outside of his body now. Outside pain was much easier to bear. But while his mind was shrugging off the pain, his body couldn't, and his flesh jumped and writhed where the shrapnel had cut it, which was everywhere, inhibiting his breath, his speech. The morphine relaxed him, but it washed over his mind like the waves of some dark sea, making his head swim, making him afraid this had all been a dream.
It had been like a dream, when her voice came to him through the thick mud clogging his ears and the deafening ringing left by the explosion. If he hadn't been thinking of her just a moment before, he wouldn't have recognized that voice. It had seemed so impossible, so implausible, that she should be here. Even when darkness was lifted from his eyes and he saw her face bending over him in the lamplight, he still couldn't believe it.
He'd been anxious that she would not want to see him. When she ran off, leaving him with the other nurse, the one with the blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun under her white cap, he'd wanted to cry out, to stop her from leaving. She had left him once before, and he felt he would die if he let her leave again. But he couldn't find his voice, couldn't move. And when she came back, she remained brusque, as though she was angry. He couldn't blame her. She probably wanted nothing to do with him. But her hands were gentle as they moved over his wounds, and Leonard had allowed himself a sliver of hope.
His cheeks burned when he realized he was lying bare in front of her, with only a blanket covering his middle. If it didn't hurt so much, he would have laughed, too, laughed at himself for still feeling shy with her, after all that they had been through together.
She was coming back now, holding a small photograph, which she gave to Leonard. The photograph showed a child, a boy, about six or seven, wearing a sailor suit, with soft dark curls falling over his forehead. There was something vaguely familiar in the serious expression with which he was looking at the camera. Leonard thought perhaps it resembled Helen's, but he couldn't be sure.
"I should've stayed with him," Helen said, "but I couldn't stand by and do nothing while all this war effort is going on, so he's with Meg and Tibby at Howards End. His name is Leopold," she added, her voice slightly breathless. "I call him Leo."
"I don't understand," Leonard said. Was she trying to tell her that she was married? He glanced at her empty fingers, which told him nothing—nurses probably had to keep their hands empty and clean at all times. He tried handing the photograph back to her. She didn't take it.
"He's your son, Leonard," she said. "Our son."
Leonard lifted startled eyes to her face. She nodded, once. He looked at the photograph again. Yes, he saw it now. The familiar expression, which he'd thought to be Helen's, was his own. Those rounded, solemn eyes were his own.
Suddenly the irons came back, all sharp-edged and burning, as though Oniton had only been the night before. In the child, he saw all the pains, the fears she had gone through—that he had put her through. This was the real reason she stayed away, the reason she couldn't come home. His fault, his, his. The blanket, the lamp, the tent, Helen's eyes, they were all bearing down on him, crushing him. He couldn't breathe. He struggled weakly against the bedclothes, trying to get away from Helen, but his treacherous body refused to move.
Then he felt her hands on his shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him back down, and heard her voice by his ear. "Leonard, calm yourself," she was saying. "You didn't do anything wrong. I do not blame you. I am not angry. Please, calm down before you tear open these wounds again."
His desperate eyes searched for Helen's face. She was smiling at him, a small, tentative smile, fighting off the tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks. At that smile, the scorching inside him cooled, and he breathed again, slowly.
"Miss Schlegel—" he began, once the thudding of his heart subsided.
"Helen, please," she said, her hands moving down his shoulders to clasp around his wrists.
"Helen." He savored her name on his tongue, and it was so sweet that he had to say it again. "I looked for you, Helen. After—Oniton. I looked for you. I wanted to—to apologize—"
"There was nothing to apologize for."
"I went to Wickham Place, but you were gone. I was afraid you had to move because of me. Then I found your sister, and she told me you were in Germany. And I believed that I drove you away, that you didn't want to see me again—" He was rambling now, his tongue and mind and heart loosened by the morphine, or perhaps by Helen's smile and the solemn eyes of the boy in the photograph, and all the memories he'd buried away came rushing forth like a flood.
"There was a time when I never wanted to see you again," she said. "I know it sounds appalling, but for the longest time, I didn't want to see you. I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me." She looked away for a moment. Leonard thought he could see the pain of those early days in her eyes, but what he felt now wasn't guilt. For the first time since arriving in Belgium, he wished to live. To live, so he could make it up for her, for their son, and perhaps for himself as well. Helen was looking at him again, her eyes brightening. "But then Leo was born," she said. "And from the moment I held him, I've loved him so much that nothing else mattered anymore."
He wanted to ask if she ever loved him. No, now was not the time.
"What is he like?" He couldn't speak the boy's name, not yet.
A tender smile crossed Helen's face. "He's the sweetest. Rather serious for his age. Meg calls him an old soul. He reminds me of you sometimes." She squeezed his hand. "You'll see for yourself, when you go back to England."
England. It had seemed so inconceivable just that morning, yet it was frightfully tangible now. Hope pierced Leonard's heart like barbed wire. "But—"
"I'm not asking anything of you, Leonard. Just that you meet him. If you want."
"I do." As he said it, Leonard knew it was true. He'd thought he had no one, nothing left in England. But now he had something. And when he saw Helen's smile and the tears in her eyes as she looked at him, and felt her hand in his, he realized he had something here as well, a spot of light in this place of mud and death and madness.
Another wave of morphine crashed over him, but Leonard fought against it, not wanting to drown in it just yet. This miracle, this blessing was too precious, he didn't want to waste it in sleep.
"I still don't believe you're really here," he murmured. "I was just thinking about you, right before I went under."
"Were you?"
"They were playing Beethoven's Fifth in the dugout. It reminded me of Prince Regent's Hall, of the day we met. Do you remember?"
A shy smile tugged at the corner of Helen's lips. "You still have some mud on your face," she said. She took the sponge and wiped away the mud. Her hand, whether by accident or on purpose, brushed across Leonard's lips. He managed to raise his arm, took that hand, and pressed her palm to his mouth. She didn't pull away.
The blonde nurse came back. A part of Leonard wished she would go away, and another part wished he could share their joy with her, with anyone. "You should get some rest, Helen," she said. "I can stay with him if necessary."
Helen squeezed Leonard's hand more tightly. "No, I'm all right," she answered, without taking her eyes off him.
The other nurse retreated. Helen lifted Leonard's hand, the one still holding on to hers, and kissed his knuckles. There was a moment of hesitation, and then, leaning down, she kissed his lips as well, tender and careful, so different from her fumbling, frenzied kisses that night so long ago.
"Sleep now," she whispered.
"Stay with me?" he asked, though he was already drifting off.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, and, like a gesture of promise, took his hand again and laced her fingers through his.
Holding on to that hand, Leonard let out a deep sigh, and slept. While the rain and the thunder of shellfire continued outside, he slept and dreamed of their son, of England, and of home. Helen he didn't have to dream about, for she was there with him, and was going to be there when he woke up.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
THE END
A/N: Leonard is probably my favorite JQ character (after Eddie), and yet I struggled for the longest time to write something for him, probably because a) I'm too familiar with the source material and its other adaptation (the 1992 movie) and b) Leonard's story is rather finite and I couldn't figure out how to fix it in a way that makes sense to me. It wasn't until I reread "A Room with a View" and learned that Forster had written an epilogue/alternate ending that took place during World War I and II that I came up with the idea of doing something similar for poor Leonard. I totally ripped off a scene in A.S. Byatt's "The Children's Book" for this, btw.
The title is taken from Rupert Brooke's "The Beginning". The poem quoted in the opening and the end is "The Soldier", also by Rupert Brooke.
Thank you for reading!
#leonard bast#howards end#leonard bast fic#leonard x helen#helen schlegel#joseph quinn#joseph quinn fic
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wwdits tarot meta masterpost
Hi! This is a masterpost of all my WWDITS tarot meta posts along with a little FAQ about the project!
All 22 Major Arcana (and a brief post about the Minor Arcana) are now complete and on tumblr. Each card has gotten a character or theme from the show, and I've used the themes of the tarot to delve into my thoughts about each one.
I also talk about the meaning and imagery of each card, and how I would change that imagery to reflect the character I've assigned to it.
Basically, I designed a WWDITS tarot deck! But I did it by rambling about the characters for several thousand words. I hope you enjoy!
The Posts
0. The Fool (Sean)
I. The Magician (The Djinn)
II. The High Priestess (Lilith)
III. The Empress (The Sire)
IV. The Emperor (The Baron)
V. The Hierophant (The Guide)
VI. The Lovers (Laszlo, Nadja, Guillermo, and Nandor)
VII. The Chariot (Laszlo Cravensworth)
VIII. Strength (Nadja of Antipaxos)
IX. The Hermit (Nandor the Relentless)
X. The Wheel of Fortune (........the BBT slot machine)
XI. Justice (The Vampiric Council and/or Wellington Paranormal)
XII. The Hanged Man (Jackie Daytona)
XIII. Death (Colin Robinson)
XIV. Temperance (Derek)
XV. The Devil (The Hat)
XVI. The Tower (Simon the Devious)
XVII. The Star (Marwa)
XVIII. The Moon (Jenna and Gail)
XIX. The Sun (Jan)
XX. Judgement (Guillermo de la Cruz)
XXI. The World (ancestral soil and graveyard dirt)
The Minor Arcana
What is this project?
Well, I'm a giant nerd about both tarot and What We Do In The Shadows, so why not combine the two? I studied the history, ethnography, and popular interpretations of tarot when I was in college and still do readings for fun. So I'm going to be approaching this from more of an academic POV than a spiritual one, but that's still fun, right? (Right??)
Anyway, I love writing overly complicated meta posts about WWDITS, too, so that's how I've decided to go about this. Each post is about a different card from the Major Arcana, and will contain what I've chosen to represent it, my reasoning, some thoughts about the character/object in question, and ideas about card imagery.
Some questions I've been asked:
Are you making a deck?
No, I am primarily a writer, scholar, and overthinker. I'm not good at visual art. lmao
Can I make a deck based on these ideas?
Yes! I'd love to see what you come up with. Just please credit me and include a link if you intend to use my ideas.
Can I produce a deck based on these ideas and sell it?
Um. Contact me, okay? We'll talk about it.
Why did you choose [X]?
If you want to know about my reasoning for any of these decisions, please feel free to send me an ask. I am always happy to ramble about this stuff.
Do you do tarot card readings?
Once every month or two I open up my askbox to tarot readings. So if you keep an eye out, yes. They're just for fun, though.
You studied the history of witchcraft in college?
look okay it's fine
I think that's everything. I have already thought about this a ridiculous amount, so I already know how I wish to assign all the cards. I plan on posting one of these every few days until I'm through with the Major Arcana, then I'll probably just do a brief overview of the Minor Arcana. As long as y'all keep reading them, I'll keep posting them.
(and if you don't want to see them anymore, please block #wwdits tarot)
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RESA'S 3K FIESTA BINGO MASTERLIST
Posting the masterlist under the cut for all the fics under this so far! Bingo has been extended to 31 Jan 2023, so I'll continue to update as new fics come in as well! If your fic is not here, please let me know! Enjoy!
@resanoona
Supernatural Elements: There Will Be Peace (Dean Winchester x Reader)
Kids: A Girl (Will Halstead x Reader)
Snowed In: Snowstorm (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Fight that ends in a kiss: Hate Fighting (Adam Ruzek x Reader)
Hurt Feelings: News (Dean Winchester x Reader)
Fake Dating: Private Life (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Waking Up Next To Each Other: Our Little Secret (Adam Ruzek x Reader)
College AU: Change (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Sick/Illness: Vows (Connor Rhodes x Reader)
Hurt/Comfort: Bad Feeling (Matt Casey x Reader)
5+1: Five Times, and then One (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Neighbors: Spare Key (Connor Rhodes x Reader)
Kidnap/Hostage: Coming Home (Halstead!Sister)
Free: Christmas Surprise (Jay Halstead x Reader)
First Fight: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly (Will Halstead x Reader)
Facing Fears: Unknown Threat (Jay Halstead x Reader)
@sheetsonfire
Road Trip: Interstate Intimacy (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Woke up next to each other: Wrong Door (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Supernatural Elements: Thinning Of The Veil (Jay Halstead x Reader)
5 + 1: Five Times and a Date (Matt Casey x Reader)
Free: I Only Want To Be With You (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Fights that ends in a kiss: The Red Strokes (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Sick/Illness: In Sickness and In Health (Kelly Severide x Reader)
Weddings/Proposals: Suspects and Surprises (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Hurt Feelings: Free Will (Will Halstead x Reader)
Hurt/Comfort: Chasing Shadows Away (Jay Halstead x Reader)
@writercole
Kidnap/Hostage: Sacrifice (Dean Winchester)
Free Space: The Way You Look In Black (Dean Winchester)
5 + 1: A Guardian Angel and Her Knight (Jake Seresin)
@afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff
5 + 1: 5 + 1 (Will Halstead x Sylvie Brett)
First Fight: First Fight (Rheese)
Free Space: Quiet Nights (Brettsey)
Fake Dating: What Are We? (Will Halstead x Reader)
Sick/Illness: Sicker than a dog (Halstead!Sister)
@wordsandupstead
Bodyguard AU: Bodyguard (Upstead)
Facing Fears: Positive (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Sick/Illness: secrets, soup and sassiness (Halstead!Sister)
High School/College AU: there for her (Upstead)
@district447
Supernatural Elements: Prince of Hell (Kelly Severide x Reader)
@i-like-sparkly-things
Hurt/Comfort: Stay Awake (Burgstead) // Stabbed (Halstead Brothers)
@enchantedblackrose
Hurt Feelings: Not Pretty (Jay Halstead x Reader)
Free Space: Happy Birthday (Jay Halstead x Reader)
@i-spaced-sorry
Road Trip: Optimal Road Trip (Halstead!Sister, Upstead)
Coffee Ship AU: Coffee Shop (Intelligence)
@storiesofsvu
Neighbors: Start of Something New (Derek Morgan x Reader)
First Fight: Journey To The Past Ch 15 (Bryan Kneef x Reader)
Hurt Feelings: Journey To The Past Ch 16 (Bryan Kneef x Reader)
Sick/Illness: Dunbar Magic Hot Chocolate (Heather Dunbar x Reader)
Snowed In: Washington Whiteout (Elizabeth Keane x Reader)
Forced Proximity: Learn to Share (Emily Prentiss x Reader)
Hurt/Comfort: Iowa Chill (Heather Dunbar x Jackie Sharp)
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my year in fic - 2022
I was tagged by @the-francakes (x), @schmem14 (x), @broomsticks (x), and @danpuff-ao3 (x) for a fic roundup/2022 review/stats something or other, so I'm combining them all here.
2022 was definitely a year of fests. Fests fests fests fests!!! I joined and modded so many fests that I'm taking a month long break in January. But I also had SO MUCH FUN. Fests are addictive and there's a reason for that.
Alright, here we go. Let's start with some stats.
—
Word Count: 151,378 (alas I did not make my goal of 200k but I'll take what I can get. That's still the length of a full length novel!)
Hits: 56,307
Number of Fics started and finished: 21 works (+ just as many double drabbles/microfics/minifics)
Number of WIPs started: um.... pass
Ships I wrote this year (not including background ships): um.... also pass. There's literally too many to list. I write so many ships it's hard to find a trend. But I guess I gotta answer.
Drarry (10), Wolfstar (4), Rarry (3), Parvender (3), Flintwood (3), Deamus (2), Linny (2), and Fred/George (2) eep
Favorite ship(s): Yo this is such a hard question. Idk EVERYTHING. Drarry, rare pairs, and femslash. That's my answer.
Least favorite ship(s): Fenrir ships. I just can't get into them, but also, I dare you to convince me.
AO3 Fic Writers/Artists/Creators/Readers who have inspired me and my writing this year: ohmygod sososososo many. I'd be so annoying if I tagged them all. Maybe I'll just pick a few
@broomsticks and @consistentsquash for their rec lists! AMAZING STELLAR PHENOMENAL. Jackie also leaves the absolute sweetest comments and Squash is the best hype person you will ever find. I strive to be more like Jackie and Squash.
@thistlecatfics, @bluesundaycake, @danpuff-ao3 for their wonderful characterization. The depth and grittiness to their fics floors me every time.
@the-francakes for her humorous writing and @vdoshu for their creativity. Seriously, you never know what Doshu is going to do next. Every one of Francake's fics makes me laugh.
@crazybutgood, @sugareey-makes-stuff, @anaxandria-writes, @digthewriter for their art. Every time I see their art, I just want to write and write and write because it's so inspiring. I also want to leave them a million and some kudos. Why won't AO3 let me live my best life 😭?
@schmem14, @articcat621, @paulamcg for their lovely comments and dedication to keep reading what I put out. I'm STILL surprised that people like my writing enough to keep coming back 😅
Everyone in the HP Saffics and Rare Pairs server who constantly bring up new ships and headcanons and I NEED TO WRITE THOSE RIGHT NOW. I love you all 💖
Now with stats out of the way, let's do a countdown of fics.
—
5️⃣ Top 5 works I'm most proud of from 2022 (not necessarily my most popular)
Your Cigarette Smell [Sirius/Narcissa, E, 9.7k] — My fic for @hprarepairfest 2021! Which might be cheating a bit, but technically the fest ended in Jan of this year, and I love this fic so much that I really wanted to count it. But what could be better than Blackcest hate sex for the ages?
What is this, fucking Jeopardy? [Drarry, E, 20.5k] — Written for @hd-cluefest this year and an absolute blast! Cursed Draco and Curse-breaker Harry were a dream to write. This was my most popular fic from 2022!
Rosmerta's Special Brew [Andromeda/Rosmerta (but mostly gen), T, 6.0k] — My fic for @hpqueerfest that is a testament to queer joy and queer love. I love this fic with all my heart 💖
Call me baby (I'll be on the way) [Neville/Blaise, E, 6.3k] — Written for @hp-soulmates which I also modded 🙈. So much MISCOMMUNICATION and oblivious boys in love. Also filled with rare pairs galore!
Death and Undeath [Fred/George, E, 3.1k] — Written for @hpcestfest where I got to dip my toes into the Dead Dove scene. This is a fav of mine because I got to combine magic and science and wove it into George's desperation as he tries to bring Fred back to life.
4️⃣ Top 4 current WIPs that I'm most excited to release in 2023
Oh baby, here we go again. I'm SUPER excited for my fic for @dronarryfest 2023. I can't go into details because it's anon, but I am SO EXCITED.
I've started a longer Cissamione fic that I hope I get the chance to work on next year. Will it ever be published? We'll see.
Time travel Tomarry! I've read a lot of Tomarry but never really written it, so I'm trying it out for the first time.
Might finally continue my Drarry Squid Games-inspired fic. Maybe. Possibly.
3️⃣ Top 3 biggest improvements in my writing over the past year
Brevity: I think I'm finally getting the hang of cutting down scenes so I'm not info-dumping too much on the reader.
Confidence: I've definitely become more confident in my writing. I still wouldn't say I'm the best, but confident enough that I enjoy reading what I write.
Angst: I think I can write a fairly good angsty ficlet now. Fluff and smut, I might need to work on a bit more.
2️⃣ Top 2 resolutions (ways I wish to improve my writing/blog) for the new year
FINISH A LONGER WORK. I would love to actually finish something over 50k words and publish it chapter by chapter.
Cut back on fests (lol, yeah right) and make more room for myself. Be more mindful of my fandom limits and when to step back and take a break.
1️⃣ Number 1 favorite line I've written this year!
What if that was not the end?
Flip back to the beginning. Reink the quill. Rewrite the page.
Would that be enough to forget? Would that be enough to remember?
From White, the colour of flowers, my Drarry Hanahaki fic [M, 3.2k]. Lots of angst, multiple endings, and (un)requited love. I used this quote as a transition between sections, and it's still one of my favorites.
—
Happy New Year! 💜💙💚💛🧡❤️
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SHIP MASTERPOST
I have no idea why I haven’t done this yet.
These are all romantic ships and please don’t come after me. Respect shipping opinions please!
Canon ships in bold
Amphibia:
Sashannarcy, Sashanne, Sasharcy, Marcanne, Yulivia, Terri x Dr Jan, Ally x Jess
Adventure time:
FlameSword (kinda)(used to be canon but they broke up), Bubbline, ForestFire
Infinity Train:
Jesslake, Rymin
Disenchantment:
Beanmora
SVTFOE:
Starco, Tomco, Meteposa, Jackie x Chloe
Steven Universe:
Stevonnie, Garnet, Lapidot, Bellow Diamond, Bellow Pearl, Bispearl, Rhodenite, Frowny x Smiley
Brooklyn Nine-Nine:
Peraltiago, Dianetti
The Owl House:
Lumity, Raeda, Gothslug, Vinera, Skarlow, Willuz, Amillow, Willumity, Skarscha, Aladarius, Gusollomule, Amenyx, Catbo
Kipo:
Troyson, Kipasher
SPOP:
Catradora, Scorpfuma, Glimbow, Entrapdak
Stranger Things:
Byler, Elmax, Ronance, Steddie, Murrlexie, Elumax, Lumax
Wednesday:
Wenclair, Yokovina
Don’t know why I did this, but I did. Ting!
#ugh god I have to tag all of these don't I#toh#the owl house#lumity#raeda#gothslug#veesha#gusollomule#vinera#skarlow#willuz#amillow#willumity#skarscha#aladarius#amenyx#catbo#Troyson#kipasha#kipo and the age of wonderbeasts#spop#she ra and the princesses of power#catradora#scorpfuma#glimbow#entrapdak#stranger things#byler#elmax#ronance
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s12 but as unhinged glee moments
don’t call it a comeback.
dahlia sin: finn singing “you’re having my baby” to his then girlfriend even though that was not, in fact, his baby (it’s not like he knew that at the time though)
rock m sakura: when tina hit her head on a fountain and part of that episode becomes a body swap episode
nicky doll: sue sylvester marrying herself
aiden zhane: when sue locked up klaine in an elevator to kiss as a saw trap
brita: the acafellas performing boyz 2 men’s “i wanna s*x you up” at a parent-teacher conference
jan: “well, i didn’t mean to send her to an ACTIVE crack house.”
widow von du: sue sylvester recreating the music video for madonna’s “vogue”
heidi n closet: mercedes protesting the removal of tater tots in the cafeteria
jackie cox: all of “let’s have a kiki/turkey turkey time”
crystal methyd: the nyada acapella group doing a cover of somebody else’s cover of “baby got back” and fox getting a lawsuit
gigi goode: the very concept of fondue for two
jaida essense hall: vocal adrenaline performing “bohemian rhapsody” interspersed with footage of quinn giving birth
#rpdr s12#rpdr meme#dahlia sin#rock m sakura#nicky doll#aiden zhane#brita#jan sport#widow von du#heidi n closet#jackie cox#crystal methyd#gigi goode#jaida essence hall#puppy makes memes
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The one where Jan finds the good in a bad situation (or it finds her)
It was raining. Colourless, cold water drops peppered against the high window of the dining hall in a never ending choir of splattering, mixing in with the chatter around Jan, even through her headphones. The depressing weather pretty much summed up her own feelings too. Colourless, uninspired. The glaring of her phone screen didn’t help either. Since the weekend, her phone had slowly started to calm down again, but every now and then she still got a notification, tagged in a story or repost of that one video. So far, no one had talked to her directly about it, but Jan wasn’t an idiot. She knew why the girls in her theatre class all stuck their heads together to speak in hushed tones, immediately stopping when Jan walked past. She knew why the guys in her dance class stared at her, even more noticeable than before, but never ever approached her. However, that wasn’t even the worst thing on her mind today.
Right there, on her phone, screen brightness turned up so high it felt like she was being ridiculed by it, was her last message to Jackie, from just two days ago.
Hi Jackie, I‘m sorry but I haven’t been feeling too well lately, I fear I might be getting sick. Don’t want you to catch something from me, can we cancel today’s session?
And the simple
Sure, get well soon x
That she had received as an answer.
Jan groaned, burying her face in her hands. She was such an idiot. Jackie had no idea how she felt about her, she had no idea Jan liked her even the slightest bit. And yet, somehow Jan was incapable of looking her in the eye after her kiss with Nicky. She hadn’t even cheated, they were nothing more but study buddies! But then why was it so hard to sleep, why was she this glued to her phone, trying her hardest to immediately banish every clip, every screenshot that came up of the moment as soon as she saw it.
It wasn’t even that she was ashamed of it, or that she hadn’t liked the kiss … late at night, when Jan laid awake between Rosé and Lagoona, who had both dozed off hours ago already, despite insisting that they wanted to help Jan sleep, she had realised it. Or rather, accepted it. She enjoyed kissing Nicky. She had had a good time and yes, sometimes she thought of doing it again. Maybe more often than she was yet ready to admit …
But she also missed Jackie, even though she couldn’t bare to look at her right now, too ashamed of whatever image the older student must have of her now. How was she going to survive the Club tonight, with both of them present? She hadn’t even managed to say more than an awkward hello to Nicky in the hallway the other day, and she hadn’t spoken to Jackie at all since she had cancelled on her … This was a disaster!
„Uhm, hey Jan“, a deep voice brought her back to reality. Looking up, Jan found David, some guy in her year that she didn’t have any classes with lean over her. The only time she had ever interacted with him had been orientation, so she furrowed her brows as she glanced up at him in question. What the hell did he want from her?
His voice was low, as if he didn’t want anyone around to hear what he was saying. His eyes kept glancing around and Jan immediately felt uncomfortable. Especially when he leaned closer to basically whisper in her ear. „So“, he mumbled, fingers tapping on the wood where he was supporting his own weight with his arms, far too close into Jan‘s space for her liking. „You know my girlfriend Dahlia, right? You’re in anthro together…“
Jan nodded slowly, pretty sure she had seen the dark haired, tatted up girl just this morning.
„Yeah so …“, David scratched the back of his head, glancing around once more, „She’s not been too … satisfied with me.“
„Ew!“, Jan gasped out loud, trying to jerk away from him, but hitting the back of her chair instead, „Why would you say that?“
„Shhht!“, he hissed. And then, without a warning, he reached out to grab Jan by the wrist, pulling her right back towards him. She could smell sweat and cologne, pretty much her two least favourite things in the world.
„Listen“, suddenly, his voice got stern, a little too intense for Jan‘s liking. She felt the hairs on her arms rise, despite the warm sweater she was wearing. „I know you fuck with girls, okay? And I have a nice place. I live in the Windmill, we have like, the nicest bathroom. Our bath tub can blow bubbles and it could totally fit all three of us-“
„No!“, Jan used her free hand to push him out of her face, the other one fighting his iron grip. Unsuccessfully.
David groaned, throwing his free hand up in frustration. „Come on Jan!“, his fingers tightened around her arm, Jan hissed at the slight pain.
„I know you’re not a fucking prude!“, his voice got louder with each word. Heads started to turn around.
Jan closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Fuck. Fuck. Attention like that was the last thing she needed right now …
„Hey David!“, despite the accent, Nicky‘s voice cut sharp through the air. She came strutted towards them in a fast pace, only coming to a halt right behind David. The guy faltered in his stance, Jan felt the grip on her wrist slack just the slightest bit. Nicky looked furious, bleached brows furrowed and lips pressed together into a thin, red tinted line. The people that hadn’t been staring already definitely turned around now, wondering what had the short upperclassman snap like that. And snap she did, arms crossed, jaw clenched, her accent always thickening when she got emotional. To Jan, the fashion student was her own personal saviour in that moment.
„I know no one thinks high of you already, but if I were you I‘d take my shit and leave Jan the fuck alone, before I tell your girlfriend you’re creeping around again.“
David stared at her, just for a moment. His head turned bright red, eyes almost popping out of their sockets in his glare. But Nicky, despite being several heads smaller and evidently less muscular barely bat an eye at the younger guys anger. Instead, one of her bleached, perfectly plucked and shaped brows wandered upwards just the slightest bit, expressing her impatience.
David slammed his fist on the table, right in front of Jan, making her jump at the sudden noise. Then, he grabbed his backpack, bit his tongue and stormed off without another glance at her. The sound of his stomping down the hall seemed to carry the tension in the room with it, until both finally vanished. People around them awkwardly picked up their prior tasks again, even some awkward chatter arose in the room.
Jan didn’t feel like chatting or studying anymore, her bones still hollow, David’s angry fist slamming down in front of her still echoing through her.
Nicky still stood in front of her, a pocket sized mirror in hand, checking her powdered brows for any errors. Of course, everything looked perfect, as always.
„I’m so sorry that happened“, she said nonchalantly, as if she had accidentally spilled Jan’s coffee instead of fought off a way larger guy for her, „That guy’s an idiot. Deadass thought I’d do his French assignment. Ça casse pas des briques, he would still fail finals.“
Her eyes wandered off the reflection in the mirror and found Jan’s. The younger girl only then realized that she must have been staring, quickly glancing downwards, brushing a strand of pale lavender hair behind her own ear. Goddamn, Nicky must think she was completely useless. First her breakdown at the party, then a week of no notice, now Jan couldn’t even stand up for herself. The embarrassment crept up her neck like a spider, face slowly but surely turning bright red. Jesus, she could not continue on like this!
Unsure of what to answer to Nicky’s statement, she decided to change the subject matter instead. „I don’t feel like being here anymore“, she stated, grabbing her phone and backpack. If she didn’t want the awkward radio silence between her and anyone but her sisters to continue, she was gonna have to act on it. And if there was one thing Jan could do, it was act. „Do you have any classes before Philo? I’d love to get out of here…“
For a moment, Nicky simply looked at her. Surprise glimmered in the grey-ish November sky of her eyes, and maybe a little bit of excitement. Her pale pink lips curled upwards. „No classes, but enough hunger to eat a bear.“ Stepping away from the table, Nicky held out a hand towards Jan. „Come on, Janice, I know just where to go.“
It turned out Nicky truly knew just where to go to get a girl out of her own head. At the westend of town, bordering between downtown and a small village of townhouses and front yards, the bleached blonde pulled over into a slim, almost invisible alley. At first, Jan had felt her heart skip several beats at the stunt. Nicky was a wild driver, her foot basically glued onto gas and brakes the same, and the small alley seemed like a recipe for disaster. Luckily, she came to a halt right there, parking nerve wreckingly close to an already slightly crooked street light. The place she pulled Jan into by her wrist however made it more than worth it.
It was a small bakery, shop windows stacked with cinnamon buns, pies and types of bread Jan had never seen before.
„Do you like it?“ It was just a regular question, but Jan noticed the way Nicky’s hands fumbled with her car keys, the way her eyes kept jumping from the counter to Jan.
The latter chuckled. „Did you really just take us to the other end of town an hour before the Club meeting?“
„Listen, this is the only place that sells halfway acceptable croissants and .. Don’t laugh!“ Nicky grabbed her napkin, smacking Jan on the arm with it, „You Americans have no idea what you’re doing when it comes to bread!“
Jan had to laugh at that, eyeing the goods on display once again. „I’m starting to believe you.“ Her smile was warm, honest. „I love it. Tell me what I have to try!“
After a short rundown of the menu, filled with so many foreign words that Jan felt barely any cleverer afterwards, the two of them settled for a buttery, golden croissant for each of them, a piece of apple tarte to share and coffee so dark, Jan could see her own face stare back at her sceptically. They settled down at a small table right by the window, where it was easy to glance outside at the people sauntering by.
„Bon Appetit“, Nicky smiled, not hesitating before stuffing the first mouthful of tarte into her mouth. Her muffled voice mixed with her accent made it hard to understand her as she explained with her mouth ful: „Found this cause I was graving my Grandma‘s tarte. It’s not quite the same, but close enough to taste like home.“
Nodding along, Jan took a bite herself. A mix of cinnamon, sour apples and vanilla met her tongue, and the content sigh slipped out before she could stop herself. Nicky watched her with an approving smile, taking a sip of her coffee. „That’s what I‘m talking about.“
Her words left a warm, gentle tug in Jan’s stomach. Something made want to lean closer towards Nicky, just a little. The Café was warm, the late afternoon sun beams falling right onto Nicky, making her hair seem more golden than silver, illuminating her rosy cheeks and exposed teeth. The smell of hot coffee and cinnamon was in the air and Jan pursed her lips to take a sip of her drink. It was bitter, lacking the amount of cream and sugar she usually preferred to go for, but once the hot liquid washed down her throat she could taste something more, like roasted hazelnuts.
„How do you like it?“, Nicky asked, still watching for Jan‘s every reaction intently, „Too bitter?“
Jan had to laugh, pulling a face. „Kind of. Can I order some milk or will you kill me?“
Nicky chuckled, setting her own cup down. Her lips curled into a slight smirk and when Jan‘s eyes found hers, Nicky shot her a wink. „Fuck around and find out.“
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Open Heart F/AotW - Jan 14-20, 2024
✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart
Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+
🏳️🌈 = LGBTQIA | 🔹Submitted by creator
AURORA EMERY
Aurora Emery Fanart🎨🔹by @gaiuskamilah
BRYCE LAHELA
I thought you knew ✒️| Bryce Lahela x F!MC - @hannabanana-6
Nightmare Before Christmas ✒️🔹| Bryce Lahela x F!MC - @peonierose
On a Break ✒️| Bryce Lahela x F!MC - @hannabanana-6
#plantlove ✒️🔹| Bryce Laheala x F!OC - @storyofmychoices
ETHAN RAMSEY
Clucking Amazing! 📱🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter
One Night Stand (Series) ✒️| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @takeharryandgo
Part 3
Whatever it Takes 📱🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter
Work of Art 📱Ⓜ️🔹| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @cariantha
JACKIE VARMA
Pietro & Azul ✒️🔹| Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Jackie Varma - @jerzwriter
RAFAEL AVEIRO
Moving In (Series) ✒️| Rafael Aveiro x F!MC - @rafasgirl23415 Chapter 11: We Are Having A Baby Girl
TOBIAS CARRICK
Piertro & Azul ✒️🔹| Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Jackie Varma - @jerzwriter
CFWC Main F/AotW List
#choices fanfic#choices fanart#open heart#open heart choices#aurora emery#bryce lahela#ethan ramsey#jackie varma#rafael aveiro#tobias carrick#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#cfwc art of the week#playchoices#playchoices fanart#playchoices fanfic
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Newly Added Fics
Jan 14 - 20, 2023
🎭 Angst | 🦚 Angsty Fluff | 🛸 AU | ☁ Fluff | ♥ NSFW | 📚 Series | 📷 Edit | 📱 TextFic | Ⓜ Mature
BRYCE X F!MC / F!OC
A Winter's Walk - @storyofmychoices ☁
Bryce and Olivia take an evening walk in the park following a snow storm.
BRYCE X M!MC
Bar and Jukebox - @mydemonsdrivealimo ☁
Bryce goes with Jensen to visit his hometown.
ETHAN X F!MC / F!OC
A New Life - @potionsprefect ☁
Luke and Lily are welcomed into the world.
[Domestic; Family]
Always - @txemrn 🦚
After Tatum throws a New Year's Eve party, Ethan finds a way to make the night memorable. TW: Major Character Death
Dinner For Two - @liaromancewriter 📱📷
Cassie plans a date night at home, but things go awry.
[Date]
Fast Break - @trappedinfanfiction 📚🛸
[mini: completed] A second year resident and a pro basketball player. How could they possibly be brought together? And how would their relationship develop?
Epilogue
For Choosing Me - @lsvdw-blog 📚🛸
[mini: wip] If Ethan and Serena were around the same age and had gone to school together, would they know each other or be friends?
Part 3
New Hair - @tveitertotwrites 📱📷
Claire changes her hair color.
Off the Beaten Path - @jerzwriter ☁
Getting stuck in traffic on the way back to Boston teaches Ethan that sometimes detours are the best things of all.
Question...? - @jamespotterthefirst 🦚
After their last night together, he gathers up the courage to ask her out. Properly.
Something New - @jerzwriter ☁
Kaycee takes matters into her own hands when Ethan won't follow doctor's orders.
[Domestic; Family]
Tightly Knotted To A Similar String - @inlocusmads ☁ 🍘
The importance of pockets is discussed as a strange man interrupts Ethan, Jane and their dinner.
‘Tis the Damn Season - @genevievemd 📚📷
[extended: wip] A look into the final eight months of Ethan and Gen’s first year of marriage.
February 2a | 2b
ETHAN RAMSEY
Bridges: A World War II AU - @inlocusmads 🛸
When all seems hopeless, Dr Ethan Ramsey, a newly appointed military doctor, turns to books and songs as a way to cope.
ENSEMBLE/THE GANG
Heated Debate - @mydemonsdrivealimo ☁
Elijah and Jensen shine during a heated argument with Jackie.
SIENNA X M!OC
A Modern Romance - @liaromancewriter 🛸Ⓜ
Sienna reaches out to a friend, but it’s not long before it becomes something more.
Yin and Yang - @liaromancewriter 📱Ⓜ
Sienna proposes a bold idea to mark her and Max's anniversary.
TOBIAS X F!MC / F!OC
In Another Time... - @jerzwriter 🎭
As their time at Hopkins comes to an end, one night changes everything.
Feat. Ethan Ramsey
One Summer Night... - @jerzwriter ☁
The lights are out in Boston in the middle of a heatwave, and no one is sleeping, but it is a night full of sweet memories for Tobias & Casey... once they cool off.
_
SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE
#open heart#choices open heart#open heart choices#open heart fanfics#open heart fanfiction#choices fanfiction#choices fanfics#playchoices#bryce lahela#bryce lahela x mc#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x mc#sienna trinh#sienna trinh x oc#tobias carrick#tobias carrick x mc#elijah greene#jackie varma#newly added fics
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military-based story with serious drill sergeant Gigi and unruly cadets. (Heidi and Jan are cadet friends) (Jackie is another Sergeant nicer) Nicky transfer from France army.
Military Base Charles
Gigi - Drill Sergeant Goode
Jackie - Sergeant Cox
Crystal - Private Methyd
Jan - Private Sport
Heidi - Major Closet (pfft)
Widow - Captain Von Du
Jaida - Captain Hall
Nicky - Warrant Officer Doll
Rock - (Military Police) Officer Sakura
(Gigi x Crystal, Jackie x Nicky)
Monday mornings were parade days. The platoon would be marched out of their barracks to the parade square. Today was unfortunately not just a normal practice parade, this was the real thing. Colonel Hall is coming to visit the base to be introduced to the new recruits and check on the officers. Drill sergeant Goode marches out to the front of the platoon. She turns herself around to address the recruits.
“Platoon 309. Attention!”
The voice of the drill sergeant rang across the parade square. The platoon was quick to stand at attention.
“Present, arms!”
The platoon raises their right arms and salute Colonel Hall. The parade goes on as usual, Colonel Hall is very impressed with the progress of Sergeant Goode’s platoon. Captain Von Du and Colonel Hall are walking through the ranks to inspect the recruits and speak with a few of them.
“Good morning sergeant Cox.” Colonel Hall said smiling at Jackie, herself responding back respectfully and she moves onto the next recruit. At the end Colonel Hall passes on her praise to Captain Von Du and Sergeant Goode. The parade gets wrapped up and the platoon is dismissed for lunch.
“Gigi!” Jackie walks over to Gigi following dismissal. Jackie and Gigi joined the corps at the same time, they became fast friends.
“That was so nerve wracking Jackie. I was so worried I’d mess this whole parade up.” Gigi grabs her face in her hands.
“You did fantastic! You were clear and you looked badass!” Jackie laughed while patting the flustered red headed drill sergeants shoulder.
“I can’t wait to see the new privates joining today after lunch.” Gigi stated while they both started to walk over to the mess hall.
“You’ll mold them wonderfully, your drill training is top class.” Jackie giggled back.
The mess hall was nearly full. Everyone was washing their hands and lining up to go to the counter. They ate based on rank, the lower the rank the faster you get food. Jackie and Gigi weren’t the highest rank there but they were high enough that they’d get to the food by the last wave of recruits. Gigi scowls at the counter, seeing the bain of her existence. The eggs.
“They have those scrambled eggs.” Gigi whispers to Jackie with a raised lip.
“They aren’t that bad Gi.” Jackie whispers back.
“Eggs. Shouldn’t. Bounce!” Gigi stated as she grabbed her food tray and handed one to Jackie.
There are plenty of rumors about the mess hall food going around, it wasn’t by any means a five star meal but everyone could agree it was better than MRE’s. The girls grabbed their food and went to find a place to sit. They see a bunch of new recruits sitting at a table with the captain getting the rundown.
“Gi look at that private, with the green hair.” Gigi’s eyes wander over.
“She’ll have it dyed by sun down Jackie. You know they only allow natural colours.”
Jackie lets out a giggle and continues to follow Gigi to a table with the rest of their friends.
_______________________________________________
Well everyone here is a WIP I've been working on ... let me know what you guys think. If enough of you want it I'll continue it.
#crygi#crystal methyd#gigi goode#nicky doll#jackie cox#widow von du#jaida essence hall#crystal x gigi#jackie x nicky#wip dump#writing wip
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'²³ 5th Summer Week.
I. Aconteceu, ou Mais um Dia — 15 jan 2023, domingo.
1. Gostei desse título. Retomei VeC em sua plenitude. E creio que queria fugir dela, por conta da Dor da repreensão por não poder continuá-la devido ao cansaço. Mas a Dor passa. E isso basta. É cansativo fazer tudo com medo da Dor. Mas não há opção. As Premências devem ser realizadas. Independente de qualquer coisa. M.: 2E 🥇; G1 🥈; R7 🥇.
II. What?, ou Conversa com Filho — 16 jan 2023, segunda.
1. Okay, I will have to fazer compras mais tarde. Não sei se passo pelo shobber. Thoring. About... Hum. Well, no mais, acordei com um pesadelo. Às 8h, praticamente. E Deus quis assim. Era para eu despertar. E viver, se é que você me entende. Aqui estou, cumprindo os Anéis a partir dos Aros usuais. 2. Sobre Desígnio, não sei bem como proceder. O correto seria eu passar as metas P0, as que posso realizar, ou P0 e P1, não sei. Pô-las no Cofre. Fazer um sorteio a partir dos cupons que possuo. E então cumpri-la. Simple. Deveria seguir esse caminho. Mas não cheguei nesse Anel ainda. Faltam vários outros. Talvez à noite. 3. Pensei também que o problema não está no capitalismo, mas na má distribuição de renda. Se o patrão dividisse os investimentos entre todos e assalariasse a todos, até ele mesmo, com o mesmo valor, todos poderiam comprar de modo igual. Por comprar, digo acessar bens necessários à vida ou à felicidade [OVA.]. Seria justo. 4. Quanto aos Anéis, a parte espiritual está quitada. A parte material está em "S", "N" durante o dia estará. Mas há as compras. Suco e pão. Okay. Que mais? "H". Já passei, falta a louça e o lixo, que são à noite. Também varrer a Cozinha e o Banheiraxo. ATM? Não posso agora. "G", irei agora. "Z", não há o que fazer. Quanto à parte emocional, está quitada. Quanto à parte expressional, temos "V". A Parada. Temos ainda "R" e "D". No caso de "P", só resta reler. Mas por ora não. Vou ver como as coisas irão acontecer. Daí temos a parte intelectual ou racional. "L" okay. "W" e "X" também. Restam "J" e "U". Anywayrer, quando eu chegar, varrerei a Cozinha e o Banheiraxo. Não sei se tomarei outro banho, vai depender da temperatura. Daí não sei se lancharei, acho que não. Só às 7h. No caso, relaxarei um pouco. Talvez organizarei o Cofre... Verei a ordem. No caso, seria Faxina... Ou seja, 2E. Micro-ondas. Mas à noite? Ficaria muito cansado. Pois tem a louça também. Melhor para amanhã. No caso, temos o Skeelo... Vamos ver. Vou ficar tranquilo. 5. Não está dando para ver Jackie. Ler o Quora também fica complicado, pois são muitas capturas. E não tenho como escoar essa produção. Não tenho compolo. Logo, fica complicado. M.: 2E 🥇; G1 🥈; R7 🥇.
III. É, ou Vitória, ou Cento e Nove Medalhas de Ouro — 17 jan 2023, terça.
1. Vivendo. 2. Preciso anotar para não me confundir. Na Cozinha, ainda faltam a casinha, limpar a mesa e os bancos, as tábuas, e lavar os utensílios. Agora, não vou fazer nada, pois estou cheio. Mas às 4h, já posso. Primeiro a casinha, depois a mesa e os bancos, por fim as tábuas. À noite, lavo os utensílios. Ao fim da Cozinha, varrer a Área e a Calçada, e depois comprar os pães. Ponto. Estou devendo 1 água. Logo, beber água antes de tudo. 2. 3. Parabéns para mim, que finalmente conquistou a medalha de ouro por 2E. Algo que eu não previa. O título dirá quantas medalhas ganharei, quantos dias foram necessários... Pensei em pôr "Vitória" no título quando percebi. E ontem comecei a ver os vídeos de Heloisa Rosa para A Parada. Seu último trabalho chama-se "Celebrar Vitória"... O primeiro devocional que vejo em meses, a primeira palavra direta por vídeo, foi justamente Heloisa falando sobre como a rotina [Inércia...] não é de Deus. E que Ele não gosta dela, mas da novidade... Uma confirmação dos sinais que recebi há alguns dias. Não lembro quando. M.: G1 🥈; R7 🥇; V4 🥉.
IV. The Day, ou Simplicidade — 18 jan 2023, quarta.
1. Ogah. Soonylate, I will endeavourish and make shobbers. Humm... ogah. Ogah. That life... colorful and easy. Yem. Uh. Humm. Enfin... Daqui a pouco, assucal. E depois banho. E gombras. Owrite. And then arono. Will know later. Mas queria aquela simplicidade, Deus entende. Deus sabe. A simplicidade. 2. Vamos nos organizar. Well, agora seria Ordem, mas não faz sentido varrer o Quartrás e o Banheirima. Já faz um mês que o Banheirima foi lavado... Está na hora de lavá-lo novamente. Se for seguir a agenda à risca, ficará complicado... Enfim. Já posso adiantar e marcar uma data. Pois é um tanto mais necessário que as outras coisas. Ao menos esse posso colocar assim. Então deixaria para amanhã. Se fosse hoje, iria lavá-lo agora, é o que faz mais sentido. Mas preciso dos tapetes primeiro. Vou lavá-los amanhã, se fizer sol. Melhor assim. Então, posso varrê-lo hoje, com a Cozinha e o Quartrás. O ponto é que já tomei banho, e teria de tomar outro... Não sei. M.: G1 🥈; R7 🥇; V3 🥉.
V. The Day 2, ou E Agora? — 19 jan 2023, quinta.
1. Sim. M.: G1 🥈; V2; R2 🥈.
VI. E Agora? 2, ou Nothing More — 20 jan 2023, sexta.
1. Ocorreu-me agora que já faz 2.000 anos que Jesus ressuscitou... Enfim. Hoje foi um dia blotter, cheio. Humm... Do many thengs. Andja... well. Yeh. 730.000 dias. M.: R1 🥉; D0 🥈; L4 🥇.
VII. Continuando, ou Cofre das Metas — 21 jan 2023, sábado.
1. Bom, terei de estabelecer as Medalhas para hoje. Acho que vou preparar as metas no Cofre. E um filme, eu acho... Talvez uma leitura... SET, não sei... Ou vídeos... Mas não há mais como anotar coisas importantes... O celular já está cheio... Enfim... 2. Para constar, realizei hoje o Cofre das Metas. Muita emoção: :'O. Enfim. Vou agora resgatar uma meta. Foram poucas P0, i.e., gratuitas. 5. Vou sortear. A meta é...: 17.2. Terei de cumpri-la quando passar por "D". Ainda posso adquirir outra meta. Mas vou ficar com essa, por enquanto. E é isso. 3. Calor... I'm on the shobber. Thoring about what? The lojas. And all of them are in alter patamares. Ao sair, vou comprar pão. E that's it. Ahmm... well. Hum. E agora? Ao chegar, temos um livro e um filme. But what movie? Vamos de Cindie? Ou outro lugar? Acho que Cindie, não sei. Quanto ao livro, pode ser aquele da Baía. E a vida Instagram? Artifficial? Out of the patterns. Follow just VeC... Only. So, I have to waiter 6h. And go ahead. But until then, what I'm gonna do? Nothing? M.: G1 🥈; V2; R1.
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☾ stan list ☽
K-POP:
boy groups:
(ult) exo. biases: xiumin, chanyeol, d.o, baekhyun.
vixx. biases: leo, hyuk
shinee. bias: onew.
seventeen. biases: hoshi, dino, jeonghan.
support list: nu'est, ateez, txt, b.a.p, infinite, teen top, dawn, mblaq.
girl groups:
(ult) snsd. bias: tiffany.
(ult) twice. biases: nayeon, momo.
stayc. biases: isa.
everglow. biases: yiren, aisha.
blackpink. biases: ot4.
kim hyuna, soloist.
aespa. bias: giselle
support list: apink, f(x), sunmi, suhyun (akmu), dreamcatcher, oh my girl, (g)-idle, momoland, girl's day, jeon somi, mamamoo, ailee, yena, le sserafim, ive.
DRAG:
i have not watched: down under, canada’s drag race s2, drag race holland, drag race italia, drag race thailand, españa’s drag race s2.
usa: tatianna, jujubee, kylie sonique love, raja, manila, jinkx monsoon, detox, bendelacreme, miss fame, katya, trixie mattel, bob the drag queen, kim chi, shea coulée, aquaria, yuhua hamasaki, blair st. clair, miz cracker, monet x change, asia o'hara, mo heart, vanessa vanjie mateo, ra'jah o'hara, scarlet envy, nina west, jaida essence hall, gigi goode, jackie cox, nicky doll, heidi n closet, symone, denali, gottmik, bosco, daya betty, willow pill.
canada: priyanka, kiara, lemon, boa, juice boxx, tynomi banks.
uk: blu hydrangea, baga chipz, divina de campo, cheryl hole, bimini bon boulash, tayce, tia kofi, lawrence chaney, ellie diamond, victoria scone.
españa: the entire s1 cast except for dovima nurmi, but highlights are: carmen farala, killer queen, sagittaria, arantxa castilla la mancha, hugáceo crujiente.
france: soa de muse, kam hugh, la grande dame.
DRAG SHIPS:
favorites: arantxa/hugaceo (aranceo), lemon/priyanka (lemyanka), carmen farala/sagittaria, kam hugh/la grande dame, gigi goode/nicky doll (goodedoll), gigi goode/jaida essence hall (goodessence).
like: lemon/juice boxx (lemonjuice), naomi/kim chi (naochi), bendelacreme/jinkx monsoon (jela/jinkx & dela), bendelacreme/trixie mattel. jackie cox/jan sport (jankie), jaida essence hall/nicky doll (halldoll), raja gemini/manila luzon (rajila), scarlet envy/yvie oddly (scyvie), sasha velour/shea coulée (sashea).
i sometimes read: trixie/katya (trixya), brooke/vanjie (branjie), blu/cheryl (hole hydrangea), tayce/bimini, s6 ships, s14 ships.
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