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puckmaidens · 9 months

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If I Say It, Will You Respond? - Juraj Slafkovsky x OC

This is for @2manytabsopen as a part of @wyattjohnston ‘s summer fic exchange!

- I’m so sorry for making you wait Kesh, but this story went up and off the rails with Arber’s meddling (as big brothers do 🤣)

The story of Dinah and Jura is one that I definitely struggled with from an intimacy perspective. How do I make Dinah fall for Slaf without feeling like insta love?

Dinah Faye Clark doesn’t regret anything, actually almost anything. She’s gazing at her diploma on the wall, Bachelor’s in Media and Journalism from the University of Montreal.

“Another successful day of work finished. The article on the Habs blueline will go up tomorrow before the draft and hopefully that goes over well.” A soft *ping* goes off and Dinah sees a tweet from the Habs Twitter.

The Montreal Canadiens have the first overall pick for the 2022 draft. Find out more about what that means here. Link Here

Another ping.

The Hamilton Bulldogs are your 2022 Ontario Hockey League champions! They will advance to the Memorial Cup Tournament!

Dinah’s heart thumped as she saw the players raising the Ross Robertson Cup. She sees the Xhekaj jersey and smiles.

Proud of you, big bro. So proud of you, Arber.

Dinah and Arber hadn’t spoken in years, but the sibling bond they share was unshakable across country lines and team switches. When Dinah left for university, Arber stayed and went to the OHL. The first few terms were easy when he was with the Rangers before getting traded.

Everything almost fell apart once he went to the Bulldogs though. Texts were getting lost, calls never making it to voicemail and nights full of tears. They never held it against each other, especially once Dinah graduated and Arber was front row and dead center waiting for her.

Dinah didn’t have both parents, just an Aunt. Having a hands off guardian made her independent and headstrong, from getting on the yearbook and newspaper teams to starting her own blog about the Canadiens before her junior year.

Six years later, she’s a trusted source and media channel for the Habs. What she’s lost in affection and time she’s got back in a supportive network virtually and adventures embedded into her brain. She’s a storyteller, analyst and writer who’s damn good at her job.

When Arber was traded from Kitchener to Hamilton, Dinah struggled with giving space to Arber. Her feelings of being too much to be around drove her into distancing him. The championship brought them back together.

Dinah asked him where his mind was in an interview and suddenly the conversation got deep fast.

Draft Day

”The Montreal Canadiens are proud to select Juraj Slafkovsky from TPS in the Liiga!” Dinah watches the first overall selection stride down to meet the GM, President, and Head Coach of his new team. Her hand flies across her notepad faster than she can comprehend, really.

He’s soft. Teddy-bear like, but not weak.

Dinah dragged her eyes back down to her notes as she waited for the next team to select their draftee.

Someone might say Dinah fell in love that day, but Dinah felt something stronger.

She wanted to tell his story, again and again.

1. Juraj’s first game

Mullet Arena is tiny and too cozy, Dinah muses. Everyone seems uncomfortable, too close, intimate in a way that bothered them instead of coming naturally. The warm-ups were starting and as the lights came up Dinah noticed that just right along the opening where the players came out she saw something. It was him getting ready to take his rookie lap. Dinah’s heartbeat got heavy and fast. She got warm although she barely had anything on save for a coat. She couldn't stop staring as he made his loops round and round and the wide oval shape that the ice was. Loop, loop, loop. The sight of him taking his lap on the ice and then heading back off burned into her brain. It was somehow too much but also not enough. She wanted to see more.

2. His first goal

C’mon Juraj, stay on him. You’re almost there, do not let up.

Nearly 12 minutes left on the clock and he’s passing Arizona’s Maccelli and aiming. It misses. The sound of bodies hit the wall ring in Dinah’s ears. The shot is clear this time, now 11:43 left in the second period. He aims, and it passes Ingram. He’s scored his first goal. Jake grabs him first, then Arber and everyone else crashes into Juraj. His first goal has been made and Dinah is watching the ice.. A volcano of feelings screaming to rush out of them as Juraj fist-bumps the lines not on shift.

“His First of the National League, Slafkovsky!” Arber is right behind him, whooping and hollering with everyone else.

After the game ends, Dinah goes to their media availability and records most of the post-game conversation, asking some questions of her own and getting Coach St. Louis to laugh.

Then there’s Juraj, laughing and blushing. Dinah feels her heart stop beating for a moment, but she manages to ask one good question.

“You think this a good start to your career?”

Juraj laughs, and Dinah knows this feeling is more now, tied and infinite.

3. End of Season

It was a loss. Boston 5 - Montreal 4. Dinah had to hold back her tears when she saw the final score on her screen. Pasternak really shut the door on them. Her phone is a Roman Candle in a room of near darkness. She unlocks her phone and sends a text to Arber and Juraj.

To: Big Bro, Juraj

Hugs. god, I'm so sorry. I know how hard you both fought this season. Do you need me to come over?

From: Big Bro

You know where the key is, Dee. We wouldn’t mind company.

A new message pops up, just between Dinah and Juraj.

From: Juraj

I’ll keep the couch warm. You want to pick a movie?

Dinah comes over and slips her shoes off before shuffling over to Arber, resting her head in his lap. Juraj toddles over and shoves his head in Dinah’s lap.

“You’re a puppy dog, I swear Slaf. Needy baby.”

That made Arber laugh, Juraj turning pink as the movie started.

4. Arber, Juraj and Dinah hanging out before Juraj asks Dinah on a date

Dinah sat themselves down, fiddling with the ring on her index finger as she waited for the boys. Now that the season was truly over, exit interviews done, there was a tiny, faint buffer of time before everyone scattered for the summer.

“Baby Dee!”

“Arber!” They crashed into each other, squeezing tight as Arber lifted Dinah off the ground.

Juraj follows Arber, quiet as he blinks at Dinah.

“Can I?”

“I’m a hugger Juraj, it’s fine. C’mere.” He’s gentle and wraps himself around her.

“So, I hear you’re heading home soon?” Arber nudges Juraj into a corner, raising his eyebrows.

“To finish my schooling, yes. In a few days, but I want to ask you something. Dinah, would you join me for a walk? Nothing too —“

“It’s a date Dee, Slaf is just shy. Meet him at the park Saturday, hm? We both know you think he’s cute.” Both Dinah and Juraj turn crimson.

“HEY. I told you that in confidence you dork!”

“You think…I’m cute? Not just something Arber is saying to be funny?” Arber gets up, heading to the bathroom and the air gets still.

“No. He’s telling the truth. I didn’t want to distress you—“

Juraj grabs Dinah’s hand and squeezes it.

“I like you more. I remember…. I remember my draft day and you couldn’t stop looking at me and I couldn’t stop thinking about you writing wondering what was making you scribble so fast.”

5. Dinah and Juraj’s First Date

“Time with you is never a waste, Slaf. You make any day less gray.”

“Sunshine, the sun is telling me I make their days better. Follow me. I have a surprise for you.” Dinah links pinkies with Juraj and follows him down the path to a picnic blanket laid out with food.

“How in the… Jura how —“

“Arber. Said feeding you would be the best way to woo you. Love you.” Dinah squeezes Juraj’s pinky again, the sentiment sending butterflies through their spine. The blanket has a bowl of strawberries at the center.

“Sandwiches, lemonade and oh, oh I love fruit! Jura, I thought you don’t like strawberries?”

“They’re not my favorite, but you are. Sit, let me feed you.” Dinah shuffles herself between Juraj’s legs and lets her body relax fully into his chest.

The basket shifts closer to the pair, and before long the taste of strawberries breaches Dinah’s lips. Sweet, tart, and juicy. They stay like this, Dinah being fed til every last strawberry was gone.

“How did you know that you wanted to be a journalist?”

The question makes Dinah freeze. Their head tilts back to meet Juraj’s eyes, and Dinah smiles.

“I’m fond of telling stories, and the only way I really could convey it is by following other’s stories. I tried writing fictional stories but it didn’t stick. The only common thread my family seems to share is hockey, from the love of the game to the thrill of watching it. It’s the only way I know how to do what I do best. To show my love to the people in my life.”

To show love? Juraj takes a breath, eyes meeting Dinah’s. He tries to kiss them, getting their nose. Again, their forehead before Dinah tugs his face to hers.

“I still like you most.”

“You’re not right. I wanted to kiss you proper —“

Dinah kisses Juraj again, but deeper, eyes shutting closed.

“I see.”

“I hope so because you seem ready to explode.”

5. The Summer Haze

Juraj is going to surprise her. The box in his hands feels heavy, but after talking (and getting laughed by Arber) he’s sure this is the right choice.

Two steady raps on the door, and the door swings open to show a sleepy Dinah.

“You’re back early. What has you coming over?” Juraj gives Dinah the box and blushes.

“For you. I noticed the recorder was falling apart, so I got you a nicer one.”

“I like this. I like you.” It gets quiet for a moment before Juraj tugs Dinah close to him.

“I like you most.” A kiss to her head, her cheek and her lips.

“I like you most, Jura. Stop trying to one up me.”

“No. I’m always going to like you more.”

As Dinah pulls Juraj inside to cuddle, the thrum of her heart finally goes steady.

#Juraj Slafkovsky x OC #lydia writes!#Dinah Clarke OC #Juraj Slafkovsky x Original Character #nhl rpf #hockey rpf

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morganbritton132 · 6 months

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Eddie’s live-streaming in his studio when Steve comes into the room like, “Did you hear about Lydia Martinez?”

Eddie: Who?

Steve: Lydia… Dude, she sat behind you in Click’s class

Eddie: ????

Steve: Tuesday/Thursdays?? 1985????

Steve: Big Farrah Fawcett hair. Green eyes. Great… *gestures* boobies. She was sweet! Really cute. Let you copy her homework. You know.

Eddie:

Eddie: Yesterday, you forgot what the password on your phone was but you remember a random person we went to high school with?

Steve, rolling his eyes: You know her though, right?

Eddie: Clearly not!

Steve: Well, she died. Heart attack.

#Steve later that day: You remember Lydia?#Robin: With the great rack? yeah #Steve will remember the most random memories in great detail #but has just completely forgotten his own ssn mid-writing it down #this is actually based on this one time I forgot the code to unlock my computer but could type it in using muscle memory #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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phonydiaries · 6 months

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Beautiful Dreamer - P x Reader

Notes: This is a bit of a shorter fic from me and it's pure unadulterated fluff and sap and nobody gets stabbed! Which is really stretching myself as a writer, to be honest. You guys know I love nothing more than a good life-threatening injury. Anyways, no warnings for this one! Enjoy the cozy vibes <3

---

It seemed somewhat magical in the beginning.

Pino came running to you once, at the very break of dawn when you had just barely opened your eyes; too-bright sunlight stinging them as the puppet shook you from sleep. It was difficult for you to grasp what he meant, at first, to wrap your head around what he was trying to describe. His speechless manner of communication and your general grogginess certainly didn’t help matters. But through a series of signs and expressions from Pinocchio, you came to understand. In his slow but sure gaining of humanity the boy had begun to dream at night.

You were vaguely aware that he did not dream before, and didn’t exactly sleep in the way humans did (although he did something similar enough that you personally couldn’t tell the difference).

“Is it… pleasant?” You asked him, genuinely quite curious as to what a strange thing dreams must seem to someone who had never known them. It had the potential to be wondrous and peaceful, but at the same overwhelming and utterly confusing. P seemed to take your question into careful consideration, really mulling it over. His eyes shone bright as he finally nodded decisively.

For all his excitement over this newfound ability, Pinocchio was frankly dreadful in his attempts at describing his dreams to you. You tried earnestly to follow along, but his gestures and expressions would eventually become too complicated and frenetic for you to follow and so you found yourself utterly lost in his recollections. It was after one such frustrating night that you gifted him a pocket journal to write in. This was much preferred for both of you, and you came to enjoy the routine of him eagerly handing off his scribblings for you to interpret in the morning. You would sit elbow to elbow at the table, sipping morning tea and reading his writing aloud, while he listened and nodded along captivated, his chin resting over his hands on the table.

His writing was uncharacteristically scratchy, with words often misspelled or crossed out implying that he was simply transcribing for speed and not coherence. Now and then there would be an addition of a crude drawing, sometimes the vague outline of a rabbit or a rushed impression of beaming stars.

One day, when it was particularly gloomy, you and Pino wandered to the library. Silence between the two of you was not uncommon, nor was it in any way awkward or uncomfortable. With the heavy fall of rain against the roof on this day, you found the quiet between the shelves especially peaceful. By the orange glow of a lantern, you turned the pages of a dream-interpretation guide. It was a small and somewhat battered thing and had been picked up eagerly by Pinocchio of course, who sat on the floor with crossed legs, chin resting in the heels of his hands as he listened to you, enthralled. In hushed tones, you ran down bulleted lists of common dreams and all the cryptic mysteries they may contain.

“Here, how about this one, have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out?” You asked, pointing to a passage in the book. P slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head vigorously, looking suddenly very concerned with keeping said teeth firmly in his mouth. You couldn’t help chucking as you turned the page.

The day wore on, and the oil in your lantern burned down to nothing, the dim light flickering across an eerie illustration. You’d been leafing through an art book of the romantic era painters and left off on a Fuseli painting of a tormented woman being peered upon unknowingly by some manner of devil. You found the page quite off putting honestly, and closed the book.

“I figure that’s enough of that. What do you say, Pino-oh.”

As you addressed your puppet companion in the dark, you came to see that he sat on the floor still, slumped against the foot of your chair. His cheek was sunk into his left shoulder, eyes shut, breathing soft and shallow. The serenity of the scene warmed your heart some, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Pino…” you whispered, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to wake him. But he didn’t stir, seemingly in a deep sleep. You were sorry for the uncomfortable condition he seemed to be posed in, but you didn’t want to disturb the poor puppet. You gathered your things and left quietly, shuffling off to your quarters.

It was around midnight that the puppet woke with a panicked gasp. He was surprised to find his legion arm held up defensively, as if in anticipation of an invisible attack. His eyes searched his surroundings frantically, and only when he recognized the library did he hesitantly lower his arm. In the darkness he felt quite uneasy and disoriented. He tried to recall your soothing hushed voice. It had put him into quite a state it seemed before he eventually drifted off. It was in stark contrast to the current thrumming of his mechanical heart and the uncomfortable quickness of his breaths. He had dreamed something wholly unpleasant, and with some sadness realized this new facet of humanity came with drawbacks. He did not care much for these dreams at all.

Pinocchio made his way down the corridor to your quarters, his steps echoing eerily. He threw pointed glances over his shoulder frequently, half expecting some monstrous creature to appear suddenly in the halls of Hotel Krat. The simple casting of shadows had never before made him so on-edge. When he reached your room, he opened the door slowly and peered inside. You lay there in the dark beneath silk sheets, curled in on yourself and sleeping soundly. With great care not to startle you, he knelt by your bedside and nudged you in the back. Your head flinched momentarily, but you otherwise remained still. With some urgency he took your shoulder and shook until you stirred. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you rolled over to face him.

“Pino, it’s ah…it’s late isn’t it? Can’t it wait til morning..?” You grumbled. He shook his head almost apologetically and squeezed your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were able to make out unfamiliar anxious creases in his expression. You willed yourself into a greater awareness and sat up promptly. “What is it, what’s wrong?” You asked, your tone softening significantly. P gestured in the direction of the library and rummaged around in his pocket for a moment. He retrieved the pocket journal you’d given him and pointed several times at the most recent entry. You squinted. On the left page he had simply blacked out the entire thing with a pen, and on the right page the phrase “strung up” was written several frantic times with increasing disregard for legibility.

When you looked up at him to clarify, he raised his hands limp above his head and dropped his chin to his chest. The image was admittedly shuddersome and he cast a long and spindly shadow across the wall.

“I see.” You said, closing the journal. “You had a nightmare, hm? All strung up like an ordinary puppet.” Your heart fell for the poor boy. It must’ve been terribly frightening for him.

Pinocchio nodded solemnly, not meeting your eyes. He stared off blankly and rubbed his wrists, as if easing a phantom feeling of restraints. You took note of this and hummed softly.

“Here, may I see?” You asked, and pulled his arm towards you. You made a show of inspecting it and tapping your chin thoughtfully. Holding his arm with one hand, you stuck up two fingers like a pair of scissors and pretended to snip the invisible puppet string. You repeated this mimic on his other arm and then took his hands in yours, placing a kiss on the back of each.

“All gone.”

Pinocchio looked at you with a kind of boyish wonder. He raised one fist to the crown of his head with a smile, making a pshhh sound and opening his hand, giving the impression of a miniature explosion.

“Think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?”

At this he shifted a little. His fingers busied themselves, twisting in the bedsheets. He was obviously still shaken up somewhat. You could understand that, although it was a bit of a surprise to learn that someone so nearly indestructible could be afraid of the dark.

“Alright,” you sighed, lifting the sheets. “Get in here.”

P’s chin jutted forward and his brow furrowed at your offer. You just gestured to the space beside you with your head. “Go on, before I change my mind.” You teased. At this, Pinocchio clambered up into your bed and nuzzled his face into the pillow. As he got settled. You pulled the sheet over his shoulders and snaked your arm up around him from behind. Your nose pressed against the nape of his neck and you breathed in the smell of him, like fresh rain.

“Have no fear, my puppet.” You said sleepily against his skin. “Your trusty human won’t let anything steal you away from me in the night.” You heard him snicker at this, but you knew without a doubt he felt safer here with you and vice versa. It was sweet, really.

By the time the sun rose you were both still sound asleep, all tangled in each other’s limbs, looking like lovers in the warm morning light. The day could wait a little longer.

#originally this fic was called sing me to sleep bc I was listening to the suckerpunch soundtrack version of Asleep on loop #so if you want the full experience queue that song up while you read #lydia dropping art history refs like a fucking nerd #extremely soft pino #lies of p #lies of p fanfic #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p fanart #fluff #my writing

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garadinervi · 5 months

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Hessie (Carmen Lydia Djuric), Microscopiques, (embroidery in yellow, orange, red, green, and violet, on cotton canvas), 1969-1970 [Galerie Arnaud Lefebvre, Paris. © Hessie. Photo: © Béatrice Hatala]

#art #embroidery #visual writing #geometry #hessie #carmen lydia djuric #béatrice hatala #galerie arnaud lefebvre #1960s #1970s

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teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions · 1 year

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Lydia: Hey, can we talk? One Stiles Stilinski stan to another?

Derek: I’m his husband, but continue.

(source)

#teen wolf #sterek #stydia #lydia martin #holland roden #derek hale #tyler hoechlin #mieczysław stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #source: when they write stuff

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nerdyvocals · 11 months

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Something I need to see in season 2: at least one full episode of Nancy being the best ally and coming up with increasingly batshit excuses for why Cynthia and Lydia keep disappearing together until Cynthia is ready to tell the other Pink Ladies

#or why Cynthia keeps showing up with bruises on her neck #(of course they’re not hickeys Jane)#(she works in a garage when is she not covered in bruises)#for now I will just add this to the list of things I’ll be writing in the coming weeks #rotpl spoilers #cynthia and lydia #cynthia x lydia #grease rise of the pink ladies #rise of the pink ladies #lesbian thespians #nancy nakagawa #cynthia zdunowski #lydia rotpl #lynthia

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lesbianfortara · 11 months

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Instead of Cynthia giving Lydia her jacket she gives Lydia a pin because Lydia loves pins and could wear it without anyone being suspicious!!!

#grease rise of the pink ladies #lydia rotpl #cynthia x lydia #cynthia rotpl #cynthia zdunowski #lesbian #thesbians #rise of the pink ladies #someone please write a fan fiction about this

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silentmacabre · 8 months

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andreafmn · 4 months

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12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 1

Word Count: 4.8K Paring: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Prompt @alloftheprompts: Character A and Character B broke up but now they meet at a Christmas party.

Summary: In unpredictable Beacon Hills, Stiles and (Y/N) being together was one of the only things that made sense. But sometimes the smallest of changes can create the biggest of chaos. And a simple college admission letter can do just that. Maybe all it takes is the right Christmas gift to make things better.

A/N: yup, that's right, I'm doing 12 Days of Ficmas again (even if I haven't finished Kinktober 🫣🫣 but I am nothing if not a masochist (and a slight procrastinator) But enjoy!! This story actually made me tear up, honestly. But it wouldn't be one of my stories if there wasn't an insane amount of angst 😅 Also, disclaimer, I have not seen the last two seasons of Teen Wolf or the movie so, sorry for any inconsistencies.

Next ->

“Let’s just get this over with,” (Y/N) sighed as she fixed the Santa hat on top of her head. “They don’t have to know yet.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grimaced. “It’s better to wait until after the holidays, I guess.”

It was the first time Stiles and (Y/N) had ever been terrified to enter Scott’s house and face all of their friends. Even worse, they had to pretend everything was fine between them.

Since they were little, the pair had been inseparable. Being next-door neighbors allowed them to grow close at a rapid pace. It was in her that he found solace on the nights his mother’s illness would take the best of her mind. He would run over to her house and climb the lattice that ran all the way up to her room.

And she wouldn’t ask questions. (Y/N) would simply let him in through her window and distract him until he eventually drifted off to sleep. She did not need any explanations or reasons to comfort Stiles. She simply knew he needed her, and so she was there for him. Because if there was anything she knew of, it was the pain of slowly losing a parent.

They shared a bond that no one could break. Even as Scott entered their duo and they became the perfect trio, Stiles and (Y/N) shared a connection like no other. So, it came as no surprise to anyone when they got together. Even after Stiles had continuously professed his love for Lydia. Even after (Y/N) and Boyd had a quick fling. Everyone knew that it would be the two of them at the end of the day.

What no one expected was that one day, they wouldn’t be Stiles and (Y/N) anymore. Hell, not even they had seen it coming.

Their downfall had begun the second week of December. For some reason, the couple had not spoken about what happened after high school. In their senior year, they were focusing on the present, leaving the future where it was. Because what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

(Y/N) had applied under early action to various colleges, thinking nothing of it. But there was one college that had been her dream since her father had passed, and that was her only early decision application. She had worked every day since to make sure she was at least close to being accepted. But it was never a sure thing.

She had promised herself to put it in the back of her mind. Stressing over that envelope would only drive her into madness. As much as she wanted it to be true, she knew the reality of the situation. The chances she could ever get in, much less with a full ride, were slim to none. And hoping only made things worse.

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from applying; it hadn’t stopped her from wishing.

“Honey,” her mother had said one afternoon after she got home from school. “Look what came in the mail.”

In her hands, there was a white manila envelope with blue lettering that clearly read: University of Oxford.

(Y/N) could have sworn she could feel her heart in her throat, beating at an unnatural pace and threatening to leap out of her body. She crossed the distance between her front door to the kitchen faster than she had ever done before, needing to feel the paper in her hands. Only seeing it was not proof enough that it was real.

“I don’t think I can open it,” the girl worried. “What if it’s bad, mom?”

“You won’t know unless you see, my darling,” she smiled softly. “But no matter what, you will still be the most impressive young lady I have known. And any college would be lucky to have you.”

With trembling hands, she broke open the envelope and pulled out a beautiful and crisp piece of white paper. “Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she read before taking a steadying breath. “It is with greatest pleasure that we inform you that the Admissions Comittee has decided to offer you admission to Oxford University through our binding Early Decision (ED) option on a full scholarship.”

As (Y/N) read those words, tears spilled from her eyes, and the papers fell from her hands. Her mother wrapped her arms tightly around her, showering her with words of love and encouragement. It had been everything she had worked for. Something not even the supernaturals of the world could take from her.

“You’re going to Oxford, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “I knew you could. Your dad would have been just as proud as I am.”

That moment should have been the happiest in her life so far. But there was a dark cloud that lingered over her as she celebrated. She had not told anyone she was applying to a college so far away, much less the reason she would be doing so. Mostly because she was terrified she wouldn’t get in. But part of her knew it was because she was leaving all her friends behind, leaving Stiles behind. And that was the hardest part.

For the rest of the week, as she celebrated internally, she hid the biggest news of her life from all of her friends and the boy she had deemed the love of her life. Anyone would have thought she was the one harboring a secret supernatural life with the way she was guarding her secret. And, maybe it shouldn’t have been something she kept to herself. Maybe they would have all been excited for her and understood the reason for the distance. But something deep in her stopped her every single time.

If her friends had noticed there was anything different from her demeanor, they didn’t say a thing. In the midst of final exams and the Christmas holidays soon approaching, everyone seemed to be stuck in their own heads. So, if they were in their heads, they couldn’t know there was something happening in hers.

But that Friday night, at the same hour Stiles would always sneak in, (Y/N) knew there was no way she could continue to hide her secret any longer.

“Come on,” he chuckled as he jumped onto her bed, holding his arms open. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

“What do you mean?” she said, forcing a smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You know you can’t lie to me. I may not have super hearing, but I can tell, (Y/N).”

“Yeah,” she chuckled softly. “You know me too well.”

“Of course I do,” he smiled as he crossed the distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “Now, please, tell me what’s wrong?”

That was it. That was the moment that had changed them, the moment that had broken them.

(Y/N) took a steadying breath and took his hands in hers, focusing on the veins on his hands rather than his worried eyes. “I got a letter last week,” she started with a sigh. “I told you about all the colleges I had applied to as early action.”

“Of course, you bright mind, you,” he said. “Did you already start getting the acceptance letters?”

“Uh, there’s another college I actually applied to. Early decision.”

“Like binding early decision?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I, uh, I applied to the University of Oxford. And I got in.”

Instead of embracing her, Stiles dropped her hands, taking a step away from her. “In England?” he asked as though he was offended. “Why would you wanna go that far?”

“It’s not about the distance,” she grimaced, finally meeting his hurt eyes. “It’s about what that school means. That’s where my dad went to school. That’s the place my parents met. That was the school that started my entire life, Stiles.”

“So, why didn’t you tell me about it? If it was so damn important, why did you never mention it?” Stiles seethed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You wanna start a new life, is that it? Follow in your parents’ footsteps and meet the love of your life there? Great, (Y/N). And you made sure you did it in a way you couldn’t back out.”

“Stiles, that’s not…”

“So, what? Were you gonna wait until graduation to tell me that you were moving halfway across the world to get away from us? From me?” the boy cried. “Or were you simply going to disappear and start a new life without telling anyone? But I guess that’s your thing now, huh? Keeping big shit like this until you can’t anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Stiles,” she frowned, hugging her arms tightly across her torso. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. That doesn’t mean that I would have never told you about it. I’m not looking to escape. I’m looking to start my future.”

“And it looks like you were starting it without me then,” he croaked. “What does that mean for us, (Y/N)? We ride it out until graduation, and then you leave for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t… you wanna b-break up?”

“It’s inevitable now, isn’t it?” Stiles said in a tone that broke her more than the words he was speaking. “You’re gonna be in England, and I’m gonna be god knows where. It’s better just to do it now.”

That night was nothing like she had imagined it would be. She had hoped Stiles would have been excited for her and promised her everything would be alright. That somehow he would have the answers to how they could withstand so much distance because they had to make it. Out of everyone in their friend group, those two had to make it.

Instead, it had taken a turn for the worse. One second, Stiles was standing before her with a smile on his face, and the next, he was leaving through her window with tears streaming down his face. What she had most been dreading was that scenario to play out, and a week before their friend’s holiday party, it had. They had gone through life-threatening and mind-boggling situations, but it was a college acceptance letter that broke them apart.

The coming days (Y/N) spent buried in bed. Although she should have been celebrating one of her biggest achievements –other than saving lives and defeating many, many creatures– she had wasted more tears during that time than she had done the past years of her life. She was distraught and defeated, and she had no idea how she would make it through the last semester of high school, much less how she would have made it through a Christmas party.

Somehow, they had arrived at Scott’s house at the same time, even after she had made sure she left twenty minutes after Stiles. The universe liked to play its mean tricks, but that one was almost unforgivable.

“Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way,” he grimaced. “The less we are near each other, the harder it’ll be for them to find out.”

“Harder to find out what?” Scott asked as he swung the front door open, his signature goofy grin stretched across his mouth. Instinctively, Stiles draped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Ooh, did you bring your brownies, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Still warm from the oven.”

“Wouldn’t be a party without them,” Stiles commented. “Now, let us in. It’s kinda cold out tonight.”

The second they were inside, Stiles broke for the living room while (Y/N) moved to the kitchen with Scott. She set the tray on the overfilled kitchen island, noticing to the side that the dinner table was perfectly set up. “Oh, the table looks nice,” she commented. “But I thought we’d be doing something more low-key.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Lydia thought it’d be fun to do a more grown-up dinner party.”

“Yeah. Place settings and everything.”

“We were waiting for you guys to start eating,” he said. “We’re doing gifts after.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Slowly, the rest of the group trickled into the kitchen, greeting and hugging (Y/N) as they looked over all the food and served themselves their plates. And, of course, her seat was right next to Stiles’. Even if she had wanted to sit anywhere else, the rest had already taken their assigned seats, and the only open spot was the one that had her name.

She gave her ex-boyfriend a small smile, looking anywhere but into the brown of his eyes. Her heart beat against her chest, threatening to jump out of her body. It made her fidgety as everyone ate, thinking any of the wereanimals around her would be able to tell how she was feeling.

But Scott was laughing with Stiles, Malia was talking to Lydia, and Hayden, Liam, and Mason had their own conversation running. (Y/N) was all by herself. She was surrounded by all the people she loved, but it was the loneliest she had felt in a long time. Without the usual comforting words from Stiles, she couldn’t help but feel so out of place. It was the happiest time of the year, but the girl was miserable, and it hurt that it didn’t seem like the boy she loved was sad as well.

“Alright,” Lydia spoke up as everyone ignored their mostly empty plates. “Now that our bellies are full, I think it’s time for Secret Santa! And I truly hope you all kept it a secret this time.”

“Not that it’d matter anyway,” Liam chuckled. “We all know we ask for help every time.”

“Anyways,” she said, ignoring the soft laughter that erupted from the group. “Let’s go to the living room, and (Y/N) you’ll go first.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she smiled as she followed the group into the living room. She crouched under the decorated Christmas tree, pulling out the gift that had been there for almost two weeks. “I got Lydia.”

“How wonderful!” the redhead mused, quick to hug her friend and rip away the wrapping paper. Inside the gift box was a mosaic picture of Lydia, Allison, and (Y/N), the first time they had finally considered each other friends. “Oh, it’s beautiful! I wish I could take it with me everywhere.”

“It was hard to get it just right, but I loved how it turned out.”

“It’s perfect, (Y/N),” she beamed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I love you, Lids.”

“Love you too,” the girl said as she wrapped her friend in a tighter hug. “My turn!”

Lydia had gifted Liam nine books out of his TBR list —nine because of his lacrosse number. Then, Liam gifted Scott a new leather jacket so he could “actually look cool when riding his motorcycle,” Liam snickered. Scott then gifted Malia a light blue hoodie to add to her ever-growing collection, while Malia gifted Hayden a journal and pen set, saying it was for when her mind felt too busy. After a warm smile and a hug, she announced her gift was for Mason, laughing as he pulled out an ugly cat sweater. Once the loud laughter subsided, Mason gifted Stiles a massage mat for his Jeep.

“For when you’re taking really long drives,” the boy smiled, clearly proud of himself. “There’s quite some distance between here and D.C. It’ll come in handy.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he hugged Mason. “Thanks, man. It’s great.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As Mason sat back down, Stiles cleared his throat as he pulled the last gift. Everyone knew by then who it was for. There was no one else left. “Well, I guess you all know who this is for,” he said. “I hope you like it, (Y/N).”

The girl received the bag with a soft smile, trying her best to swallow the tears that were threatening to spill. She had forgotten for a second how cruel the universe could be. She pulled out the white tissue paper first before finding a beautiful brown bear dressed in a blue knit sweater. Around its neck, there was a necklace with something she could only assume was a soundwave. With curiosity washing over her, she looked to Stiles for an explanation.

“Uh, so, it’ll make a lot more sense if you press the bear’s hand,” he stammered. Once she died as told, the sound broke her. From deep in the belly of the teddy bear, her father’s voice rang out, singing the words of “You Are My Sunshine.” There was not a single night when she was little that her father didn’t sing that to her, and even as she grew old for the lullaby, he would call her sunshine. “I got a recording from your mom of your dad singing the song when you were a baby,” Stiles spoke over the music. “And the necklace is the image of the soundwave of your dad calling you sunshine.”

Tears had long since fallen down her cheeks, clutching the bear in her arms as though it was her own father. With her eyes closed, it was almost as though he was right there, singing to her. But it was what came after the song that shattered her. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.”

At that moment, all she wanted to do was hug Stiles and kiss him like she had done a million times before. That was the boy she had fallen in love with. The one that cared and listened. The one that had made her heart race and her stomach turn into butterflies. She wanted to tell him she loved him and never let him go, but she couldn’t. Just like she could never do with her father.

“I, uh,” she said as she stood from the couch, feeling as though she would faint in the crowded room. “I need some air.”

(Y/N) stammered her way out of the living room and through the front door, only allowing herself to break down when she was at the end of the driveway. She fell to her knees and hugged the bear to her chest as she cried, letting the hurt that had accumulated over the years spill onto the pavement. In less than six months, she was going to walk into a new life halfway across the globe without the support of her father and now, without the support of Stiles. All alone.

She should have been celebrating. She knew that. She should have been crying tears of joy and jumping into her love’s arms. Instead, it was the bear’s arms that she could feel. The softness of its fur, the sound of her father’s voice.

Without even realizing it, she had begun singing along to the lullaby, sniffling between words as the tears didn’t relent. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said once more through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.”

“I love you too, dad,” she cried.

“Hey,” his voice startled her. Through teary eyes, she looked up to find Stiles draping a jacket over her shoulders. He slid to the ground next to her, facing the house before them as she was now. “I’m sorry. I bought the gift weeks ago, and I wasn’t sure if I was still allowed to give it to you.”

“No, it was… i-it was perfect,” she stammered, running her hand over the bear’s fur. “It’s just everything rushed over me. Like the breakup, the fact that I won’t be here next year, the fact that my dad won’t even see me gradua…”

Another string of sobs ransacked (Y/N)’s body, but that time it wasn’t the bear she was hugging. Stiles had wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest. She could smell his cologne and feel his warmth, a feeling she had missed for the past seven days. All she wanted was to melt into his touch and profess to him all that she felt. But she couldn’t. Not anymore. Because he didn’t want it.

“I didn’t want things to be this way,” she cried into his chest. “I didn’t want everything to fall apart.”

Stiles remained quiet as she cried, a hard feat for someone like him. But he let her cry and cry until only quiet sniffles filled the air. Because he hadn’t wanted things to be that way either.

He knew he had overreacted. When he had told (Y/N) his plans of enrolling in George Washington University all the way across the county, she had told him they could make it work. Especially if she got into any of the ivy leagues she had applied to on the East Coast. It had been fine. Hell, it had been perfect.

But when she told him that she wouldn’t just be a couple of states away but that she would be on another continent, he couldn’t help but let his abandonment issues take control.

He knew she was brilliant. He knew she deserved to do and be all that she had dreamed. But he feared that once she achieved all of her goals, he would just not fit into her life anymore.

“You’re gonna go on to do great things, (Y/N),” he sighed sadly as her tears stopped. “You’re gonna go to Oxford, just like your parents, and you’re gonna probably graduate at the top of your class on your way. And I’ll be here —well, in Washington, technically—cheering you on.”

“But why couldn’t we be great together, Stiles? We couldn’t we both go on to do great things, together?”

“Come on, (Y/N). Once you’re there, you’re gonna meet so many people, and you’ll have guys falling on their knees for you,” he chuckled dryly. “I won’t fit into your new world. I mean, you said it yourself: that’s where your parents met and your life began. And now, maybe you’ll have a new beginning. And years from today, we’ll run into each other, and you’ll tell me about your job and your husband and your kids, and I’ll be so happy for you. Because you serve all the love and happiness in the world, even if it’s without me.”

“Have you even asked yourself if that’s what I want?” (Y/N) asked as she left his warm embrace, her red eyes boring into his. “I’m not leaving because I’m searching for a new life. I want to go to Oxford because it’s one of the last things I can share with my dad. I can walk down the same halls he did, I can take classes in the same classrooms, and eat at the same places he did. But I was always going to come back, Stiles. Because my friends are here, my mom is here, because you are here. I don’t want to run into you and talk about another man or the kids I would have with him. I don’t want to run into you at all. I want to walk beside you, Stiles. If I ever have kids, it’s only if they’re a part of you too,” she cried, fresh tears falling down her already-stained cheeks. “If you don’t love me anymore, then fine. I can understand that, and I can walk away. But don’t you dare say that you wouldn’t fit into my life because you’ve been there longer than anyone I know, and I need you to be there until the end. Because I already lost someone important to me and I can’t lose you too. Not you.”

“(Y/N), I don’t want to lose you either,” he sobbed. “But how can we fight with the distance? How could we ever withstand the fact that we’ll be an ocean away?”

“We have gone through worse battles than a plane ride, Stiles. We have been on the brink of death more times this past year than any person would in their lifetime. Do you really think being in a different time zone is the limit to our relationship? I know the future isn’t promised but you were the one person I always knew would be there.”

“I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared that you’ll meet someone better than me, (Y/N). I’m terrified that you’ll realize that maybe I’m not the guy that can give you your happy ever after,” he finally confessed. His voice croaked, and his chest heaved as the words fell out of his mouth faster than he could ever stop them. “This week has been torture without you. But it’s made me realize that Beacon Hills has always been too small for you. After May, you’re gonna go out there and find your place. And this town will be nothing but a memory you’ll come back to.”

“There is no one better for me than you, Stiles, and Beacon Hills will always be my home,” she replied softly. Her cold hand found his cheek, and she wiped away his tears with her thumb. “I don’t want to know a life where you’re not there. You can’t give up on us without even trying, Stiles. You just can’t.”

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) crashed her lips onto his, sinking into the warmth of his mouth. After a week, kissing him felt like the very first time. It was desperate and filled with need —the need for closeness and passion, the need for love. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands found her waist and pulled her closer to him, wondering how he ever thought he could live without her touch.

“I love you, Stiles, and I don’t even want to think about ever having to love someone else,” she whispered as she parted from him. “My heart belongs to you. And if this is the end, it’ll still remain in your hands.”

“I couldn’t love anyone else like I love you, (Y/N),” he replied with a soft smile. “But I just can’t help the thoughts that flood my brain sometimes.”

“Then don’t listen to them and listen to me when I say that since the moment I met you, I’ve known you were it for me. There is no other man waiting for me in Oxford. It’s you, and it will always be you,” (Y/N) said before kissing him softly once more. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me, Stiles Stilinski, and you’re the only thing that I want to keep happening to me.”

“I can’t believe I ever broke up with you. Especially during Christmas,” Stiles chuckled as he rested his forehead against hers, flicking the tip of her nose with his own. “It was honestly the worst week of my life.”

“Including being possessed?” Scott’s voice startled them as he came into view. “Although, I get it because this was completely avoidable.”

(Y/N) chuckled as she took Scott’s extended hand and got on her feet, wiping away any tears that still remained. “Did you hear that whole thing?”

“More or less,” he chuckled. “It’s a bit hard not to when I was coming to see if you guys were okay.”

“We’re good now, Scotty,” Stiles grinned. “Just had some unresolved feelings to work, though.”

“Can you not mention the whole thing about the breakup? I don’t wanna make it a whole thing.”

“That’s a bit hard, (Y/N),” Malia called from the open front door. “We all kind of already know.”

“Oh, cool, great,” she said as she hid in Stile’s embrace. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Eh, at least our parents are back together,” Liam commented. “Best Christmas present.”

“It really is, huh?” Stiles whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

“Yes. Very cute and adorable,” Lydia added in a desperate tone. “Now, can we go back inside before Hayden and Mason finish all the brownies?”

As the group walked back into the house, Stiles and (Y/N) shared one more moment together on the front porch. “Hey, look up,” Stiles said with a smile. “Mistletoe.”

“Funny that they’d hang that at a werewolf's home,” she chuckled. “Although, I’m pretty sure that one’s plastic.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for another guy to kiss under the plant.” Stiles frowned at her words, and all she could do was laugh. “Too soon?”

“Much,” he said. “Now, come here.”

He snaked his hands on either side of her face and kissed her passionately. He kissed her for every day they had spent apart. He kissed her for every hurtful word he had spewed. He kissed her as a promise of his love for her. Stiles kissed her like she was his future.

Next ->

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lumiereandcogsworth · 2 months

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First and Last Lines!

tagged by @thefamilybruno thanks dude :”)

rules: post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you posted.

A Love Like Ours (Adam/Belle, rated G)

Adam came into the room with his eyes focused on the letter in his hand.

He kissed Belle’s temple and hugged her close, holding his precious family more dearly in his heart than they would ever know.

The One to Hold My Heart (Adam/Belle, rated G)

As the morning sun trickled into the room, Adam breathed in deeply; the first sign of his awakeness.

Their secret picnic still awaited them under the pear tree, but for now, they remained in their lovers’ embrace, with hearts aglow and the sun shining brightly above on their very first, magnificent Valentine’s Day.

His Whole World (Maurice/Maria, rated G)

As the sun began to set in their beautiful Paris, the LaRues were having a pleasant evening at home.

Maurice smiled. He opened his eyes and looked up at his beloved. “Yes, mon cœur. We are.”

There’s Love Here (Maurice & Belle, rated G)

Maurice scrubbed a hand down his face as he slowly descended the stairs.

Maurice smiled. “Of course, my dear.”

All That I’ll Ever Need (Maurice/Maria, rated G)

On Maurice’s 40th birthday, his wife, Maria, is six months pregnant.

It’s one of the best birthdays he will ever remember.

Hot Chocolate (Adam/Belle, rated G)

“Next one! Next one!” Little Maurice cheered, slapping his hand on the book that his father had just closed.

But it made him all the more grateful for this dear family of his, chaos and all.

After All This Time (Adam/Belle, rated T)

“That’s absurd!” Belle said, laughing loudly into her pillow.

Belle hummed happily and wrapped her legs up around his waist, smiling wide as the night carried them away.

Mine, All Mine (Maurice/Maria, rated T)

Maria crept down the stairs, quiet as a mouse.

He pulled her close for another kiss, letting laughter and sunlight dance between them as their beautiful first day as husband and wife finally began.

His Dear Girl (Maurice & Belle, rated G)

The cottage sat still as the lazy afternoon sun was drawing near the horizon.

He loved that little bird of his, and he couldn’t wait to see how high she could fly someday.

Now I See Daylight (Adam/Belle, rated G)

Candles burned low as another calm evening swept over the castle.

Both her parents joined in, hearts glowing as candlelight shimmered across the room and laughter echoed on every wall.

—

that was so FUN! no pressure tags: @gayassbenaffleck @freakwiththeknifecollection @roberrtphilip @gavotteangel @thavron @autumnrose11 @romeoandjulietyouwish @japhan2024 @hoohoobeanie @misscrazyfangirl321 + any other writers can say i tagged them!!

#tagged #lydia writes!#some of them have such cool unplanned parallels #maurice’s 40th birthday one is funny because it could be the next sentence #and the last one where candles are mentioned in both !#very cool to seeee

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puckmaidens · 1 year

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Today on Lydia’s agenda

- complete Robo x Reader

- start soft Arber! x Slaf(maybe he’s a mail order bride or something and Arber is just a lonely business person (@hard4softthings got an ask about this and it has not left my mind so I may just do it honestly)

- Josh Mahura x someone (past me didn’t suss out the details before falling asleep)

#lydia.txt #Lydia writes!#in progress #works in progress #xhekajuraj

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barry-j-blupjeans · 11 months

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People didn't wander aimlessly through the woods like they used to. For a good while there, neither Edward nor Lydia had had to leave Wonderland for advertising. Someway or another, a poor hero or party would stumble through the Felicity Wilds and get drawn into Wonderland for their own various reasons— fame, riches, glory, all of the above. Word of mouth, of course, was to best way to advertise. But once you've killed someone, their icky flesh body started decaying much too fast. It was hard to leave the Felicity Wilds in a timely manner and still look enticing enough to lure people back in.

But this year had been rough. Maybe they scared away too many folks— Edward had to be honest: having the body he was possessing crumble to literal dust in front of the crowd he was advertising to hadn't been the best way to sell the glory of Wonderland. And letting people actually leave Wonderland was a no-go. They had learned that rather quickly.

So they were back to the basics. Magicking up their spectral forms into something appealing (though, with the lack of Suffering, it was getting quite hard to keep it together. Thus, why they could only go out as a pair.) and drawing unsuspecting forms deeper into the Wilds, straight into Wonderland. The old one-two, conversationally speaking.

And people just didn't wander aimlessly through the woods like they used to! So when Edward finally found their first catch of the day, it was important that he didn't slip right through their fingers.

"Oh," Lydia said, seeing the man not a second after Edward had. He could already hear the note of arrogance in her voice. "Oh, he'll do beautifully."

Indeed, the man looked like a perfect victi— ahem. Guest. He was human, older in age, so they'd have much more memories to draw on. He played the part of a worn-out traveler quite well. Mussed hair, and a worn, heavy satchel that jingled with every step he took. It was too quiet to be coins, but the white-knuckled grip he had on the strap of it told Edward it was something much more valuable than he could guess. His pants— though quite an unusual style, but who was Edward to say, having been dead for so long— were stained with mud. There was a bit of blood against one corner of his shirt, where the fabric had ripped.

But to be so steely with determination still? To walk through the Felicity Wilds alone and still be going strong? Edward did have to agree. Wonderland would suit this man perfectly.

"Long way from home, friend?" Edward asked. His form materialized next to a tree and he proceeded to lean against it. The man turned, startled. There was a crack in his glasses. Lydia appeared behind the tree, peeking out at the man as if she had been there the whole time.

"You, uh, you could say that," the man said.

"You're very brave, going through the Felicity Wilds alone," Lydia said. "Are you on your way to somewhere?"

"I'm, uh—" the man hesitated, looking between Lydia and Edward uncertainly. He seemed to be deciding on what to say. After a second, he continued with, "I'm looking for a place called Wonderland."

Bingo. Better than bingo, actually. Edward glanced at Lydia. They shared a grin.

"Wonderland, you say?" Lydia said, hand over her chest.

"You— I'm gonna hazard a guess and say you're familiar with it?" the man said.

"You could say," Edward said. "and what brings you to Wonderland, if I may ask?"

The grip the man had on his bag tightened. The object inside jostled, gently ringing again, and Edward felt inexplicably drawn to the sound. He could tell Lydia was, too, but they both refrained from showing. It was never a good look to be desperate or over-eager.

"I have… an artifact," the man said, slow and carefully choosing his words. "Of— of immeasurable magical power. And I was told that no one who goes into Wonderland ever, uhm, ever comes out. That's— This needs to be somewhere that no one can reach but— but they know they can try. It's— it's gotta be wanted. It's— it's—"

Searching through people's memories was a tad harder outside the walls of Wonderland, much less when they were this low on visitors. Still, Edward reached out with his magic, carefully slipping into the man's mind.

The world was ending. And then it wasn't. And then it was, again, and again, and again. It was a rush of information— much more than Edward had seen in the oldest elves, let alone a middle-aged human. Memories flew by fast enough that Edward couldn't catch any in his hands. A red haze was settled over the entirety of it all— Edward could see it clear as day.

The man was a lich.

This made things… much more interesting.

"Say no more," Lydia said, holding up a hand. Edward blinked himself back into the present, trying not to let his face show any surprise. "Lucky for you, we just so happen to know the way to Wonderland."

"For what price?" the man asked.

"What, you don't trust us?" Lydia said, pulling off a pout Edward had the displeasure of seeing her practice. At the man's face, they both laughed a little.

"I must say, I admire a man with a touch of hesitation," Edward said. "But we'll lead you with no extra charge. If this object is truly that important, then I say getting it to Wonderland is our highest priority, Barry."

"I never told you my name," the man said.

"You didn't have to, darling," Edward said. "Running a fortress in the middle of the Felicity Wilds lets you pick up a few things here and there."

"You—?"

"You'll have to excuse him," Lydia said, "My brother loves a dramatic reveal."

Edward could feel fire running through his veins, a pull in his chest leading them straight back to Wonderland. Lydia's cool and pleasant face broke in a way only he could see through— one victim would have been enough for a while. But the possibility of more was too savory to resist.

"We'll set off now," Lydia continued, "and we'll be there before dark."

"Now," Edward said as Lydia set their pace and the man stumbled after them. "Tell us more about this artifact."

#barry bluejeans #edward and lydia #taz edward #taz lydia #taz balance #taz #mine #ise cube writing #enjoy !#i've got many thoughts about the animus bell and how it ended up in wonderland #and this is One of them ldfsdf #i could probably write this like. 8 different ways sldfsdf

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inamindfarfaraway · 3 months

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Are there any fans of Lydia the Bard and her series of Disney Princess villain songs on here? Because I am one. And I've been listening to them so much that now I'm thinking of writing my own for Sofia of Enchancia and Elena of Avalor, with tragic backstories and all.

#i'm trying to kill the part of me that cringes #i can't sing or make animatics but i can write the story and script and lyrics #i love these two unofficial disney princesses so much #and what better way to show your love for a character than to break them and twist them into the very thing they fought against?#lydia the bard #disney princess villain songs #sofia the first #elena of avalor

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maracujatangerine · 4 months

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The Gift Exchange, part 1

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #linden and colton #whump fic #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #writers on tumblr #original writing #christmas whump #chirstmas

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