#( all this being said I am mostly gonna be writing on dash & focus a lot on my plotted things )

[v1ctimplagued]

okay, i am a bit reluctant to say this but mostly because i don't have an infinite amount of time for dash things (icons, formatting, logging onto my computer) 'cause of work & because d1scord tends to be easier / more mobile-friendly if anyone would like to write together on d1scord i am open to it! i wanna write more with the emphasis being writing & am stuck on my phone more often than not on long work days! so a lil more convenient for quicker replies. i will be keeping all my threads rn! just a bit slower as y'all can see. and i really enjoy most of my threads here! they're all just long af so require more of my brain power & time to write.

i've had a LOT of bad experiences with people on discord so i might be a lil selective with ideas and such... but if we're already writing together you're 100% gonna be fine. it's mostly when ppl request unhinged things privately and i am left stunlocked- but regardless, if you're interested in writing my d1scord is villainarcsupremacy :)

[incarnateirony]

I think the issue with death as a happy ending (to a story, I should point out - death can be many things in many places, but I’m specifically talking about it in fiction) is that it’s usually written so badly that it doesn’t feel like a happy ending and it just feels like shit. There’s a very limited number of fictional works that I’ve seen actually manage it well - though in saying that, I have a very limited range, and I don’t really enjoy new things because (reasons). The ones I do recall, it’s because they were just that good and bittersweet is exactly the way I would describe them as a happy ending.

Firebringer was a novel I read when I was 12 or 13, and I still recall it. It was about a deer and it was his entire life - birth to death - and it was a happy ending. I cried through the last few chapters. Then I reread it and cried some more. It was good.

There’s also a fic I want to mention, because it’s on the topic. It’s called The white whale. and it’s by an author named orange_crushed. The entire premise of the fic is that Dean (and Sam, but it’s a destiel fic) is already dead. He died years ago. The title itself should say a lot, and the fic itself is about finding peace. It’s brilliant and beautiful, and I love it.

My perspective on death is a bit. Odd, maybe? I grew up somewhere between Christian (mum and dad and church, a mix of Baptist and Anglican) and animist (local indigenous spirituality), and while bit of both inform my interpretation, I’m very nearly atheist.

I don’t really believe in an afterlife, or rebirth, or anything like that. I believe that this is it. We get one shot at being who we want to be and acting as we choose with what we’re given. (“And isn’t it so wonderful, that we were alive at the same time?”)

I first heard the Freedom From vs Freedom To argument when reading the handmaid’s tale in my English class at school. It wasn’t even presented as an argument, everyone just seemed to agree that freedom to is better. I believe that, too. But freedom from has structure. It’s not “peaceful” and it can’t be when it is enforced, but it is informed by rules, and there it has expectations and is reliable (where reliable means we know what the consequences are, even if they’re awful). Freedom to is anarchy (which I have come to appreciate more). But neither freedom is peace.

There’s a quote I really love, and I can never recall it properly and it goes something like this: “War is an ugly thing, but it is not the ugliest. The decayed and degraded state of moral feeling which thinks nothing is worth war is much worse. A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing more important than his own personal fucking safety, is [the worst thing]” clearly I don’t recall it very well. It’s from an old bit of hp fanfic, of all things, a very violent and disgusting version of civil war - as war is. It was the beginning of why I’m not a pacifist.

I dunno. I guess I really feel like peace - true, genuine peace - can’t be done. It’s certainly worth striving for, worth trying, but peace is either isolation and loneliness or death. Peace is knowing you’ve done everything you can, that it was enough, and being able to let it go.

Any way I think I had a point somewhere in this, maybe something about being unable to put down a fight while you’re living, maybe something about how death can be kind, maybe something about how good writing can make sad things happy, maybe that bittersweet is still sweet. Idk.

Feel free to reply to this mess of ideas or not - or pick and choose what you want to reply to, if you’d like to reply to specific parts. I mostly just wanted to share (I can do discussion, but idk if I’m still gunna have any focus later to do so, or if I’ll even see a response) some thoughts and you’re usually the only person I see on my dash with this sort of ~vague philosophy things~.

Woah when did anons get to let someone submit something so long.

Either way, a few points on this.

1. a thoughtful piece, this is a philosophy piece I will gladly entertain. However, if we are entertaining philosophy we must

2. acknowledge this is a nihilistic piece contingent on your personal world views, that while valid, and I will not take any effort to undermine on a personal belief system level

3. do not have much to do with (dependent on fringe atheism or, perhaps, agnosticism) a piece that is far from secular and atheistic while also

4. relying on the idea that “I really feel like peace - true, genuine peace - can’t be done. It’s certainly worth striving for, worth trying, but peace is either isolation and loneliness or death.”, which is itself the very nihilistic idea imparted by Chuck’s matrix but, whether you believe it in the real world, is the active target of subversion within this fantasy world, (eg, a heaven revolution where the doors are opened just like they were in hell.)

5. Finally, presumptuous that it would not be ‘well written’ and predesignating a potential discontent with the delivery that would sour it, especially with the previous points.

That said, while I’m not going to argue directly with your real life belief system -- even if they clearly disagree with my own -- I do remind you--falling back to your point that you do not believe in an afterlife: we know this fictional story does not hold this belief, ergo using that as a judgment for how it would deliver the concept of eternity is itself already wounding oneself to receiving the moral of the canon. One can not suddenly expect SPN to become a secular show just because a viewer has secular and atheistic beliefs. It is inherently asecular, theistic, and gnostic in its bones and the story will thus tell itself within that structure, which then begs if one is willing to suspend a personal belief system for a fictional canon setting they are digesting the story of.

Similarly-and-so, this is contingent on believing that the heroes’ journey will end with them maintaining the current status quo, rather than making a world where--in this fictional world in which an afterlife exists--death does not itself mean loneliness, but rather reunion.

If we can suspend our beliefs in some shows with fighting dragons or farting lightning bolts (after all, nonnie references HP fanfic), I would hope people could suspend them in regards to a moral telling of found family and the sovereignty of man in a divine and moral play.

If one were to demand SPN have entirely atheistic storytelling, the only real way to handle an ending would be to have one of the characters wake up from a 15 year coma where none of it was real and it was all a dream or something to that affect which--lol, we’re not doing, I promise. I’m sorry, but we’re not.  We’re not taking the “none of it mattered because none of it happened” angle. We’re not going to a world where angels and the afterlife don’t exist, we’re not going to collapse it where suddenly death IS the true end and life sucks and then you die, it’s just not going to happen.

So the point then is an active choice on the part of the viewer: is this suddenly the line you draw after watching a theistic show for 15 years, doubling down that this specific theistic point is the one thing we can’t accept (despite it existing in the past already), or do we continue to watch a theistic show and interpret its theistic points as the story is trying to depict? And if it’s the “drawing the sudden line,” that is, quite frankly, a personal choice to have spontaneous discontent with a critical part of a canon story’s telling at a very sudden drawn line in the sand. 

The point to exit would have been pilot 1.01 if we were going to have fundamental problems with spirits and an afterlife as crucial elements of a story. And if not then, 4.01 with angels. And if not then-- you see where this goes on. There were multiple exit ramps if the idea of an afterlife, which became more and more directly explored, was going to be an issue in reception of or enjoyment of a text. So now we’re 15 years later, and we can’t expect the highway to reroute just because we didn’t take the other 100 ramps.

SPN will tell the full spread of its moral and divine play within the full spread of its moral and divine sandbox, which someone has--to reach the ending--accepted for fifteen years at this point. If one has a fundamental problem with the entire premise of the show, it is not an obligation to any writer to cater to someone who intrinsically disagrees with the entire structure of the body of work to fulfill something within a completely different paradigm. It’s not.

Am I lucky in that it matches my beliefs? Maybe. Also cursed. Very very cursed. Because it’s led to being Through The Looking Glass for two years to the point there’s a segment of fandom that treats me as a magic 8 ball--and sometimes rightfully so, not to sound like I’m tooting my own horn or whatever. It just knows I get the structure in play to a fault. But cursed knowledge aside -- and trust me, it’s cursed as FUCK most of the time -- in the end, even when I watch shows that don’t match my personal theology, I don’t sit here and suddenly expect them to do so. There’s plenty of shows I completely suspend my beliefs in to enjoy within the sandbox they were designed in the constraints of so I find it very weird to project a discontent with a body of fictional canon presenting ideas within its own rule set based on personal beliefs in a real life lens. I mean, I don’t believe dragons exist, but if I watch the Dragon Prince for many seasons, I can’t suddenly expect the ending to have nothing to do with Dragons?

I mean, the show is literally called Supernatural. It's right there in the name. There are going to be supernatural elements about the show. My banner image is literally a reborn soul floating down the aisle. This isn't gonna suddenly be irrelevant at the end.

[kanene-yaaay]

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kanene’s note: Okay, I’m- aaaaa

I’m very proud of this one because it’s a little different of what I use to write and it was cool to try a new something. I didn’t even wrote the laughter because I was writing this next to my family and I didn’t wanted any of them asking why my characters were laughing so much xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Switch!Émile and Switch!Remy (It is def romantic. They are married and very gay and there is a lot of kisses in it-)

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 2700 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* Just two silly and very mean boyos being two silly, teasy and ticklish boyos. xDD

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, take a good rest, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

                                [~*~]

- Émile ~

 He didn’t know from where this came from. In a second they were on the couch, smiling and watching Steven Universe, and in the other a cold shiver ran across his body, making him turn to his husband, just in the exact moment to see he taking off his sunglasses, locking his glare on him with those sweet, dangerously warm eyes and grin. Just like that. It took a heartbeat before Émile realized what was about to happen, a wobbly smile beginning to control his features as he felt himself almost paralyzed, Remy starting to tap his fingers on the lenses of his own glasses, his malefic smirk never fading.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 They stared each other, Émile’s gaze finally changing to his fingers, another round of goose bumps spreading across his spine, the adrenaline taking over his veins and giving him the enough strength to dash in full speed through the hall.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Which leaded the poor, almost giggling, adult to his current state: hiding behind his room’s door and wishing with all his will power that this plan would really worked as well as it had when he watched in the cartoons.

 (He tried to ignore the voice in his mind reminding him how all that chases usually ended up in the end, the thought only being enough to heat his face.)

 - Émile ~ - It was in days like this that one wearing glasses could swear that Remy was a witch. Because there wasn’t any other realistic, rational and plausible explanation about how much the giggles trapped in his throat got louder, bouncier and even more difficult to control just with the slight sound of his voice, obligating their owner to press his hand further around his mouth, lightly biting the tip of his tongue. – You had better hide well, because you know what is gonna to happen when I find you, don’t you?

 Émile shook his head, his back forcing itself on the cold wall.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 - Oh, gurl, maybe you don’t even remember anymore… Now, we can’t fusion like this, can we? Let’s me remind you, then. ~ - The chased hold a pouty whine when heard these words, already feeling the beginning of a blush spread in his neck. Remy knew very well how teases could be as unbearable and unnerving as the tic… I mean, The Thing. – First, I will carry you aaaaall the way back to the couch and maybe my fingers will slip in tweaks and squeezes all over your hips, who really knows, ya know? But you better don’t squirm that much, because then I will have no escape but be obligated to bring my other hand to better hold you and just hope that this one is not more slippy then the first, right?

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 - And then: The couch. Nothing different will happen there, really. I will just lay down with my extremely ticklish, helpless husband to take a nap, and, if my glorious lips will be random blessing your incredibly sensitive neck with a lot of Goodnight Kisses and my hands will keep lightly scratching, squeezing and poking all the length of your sides, sometimes even giving a little attention to your hips, because no way in hell I will be sleeping in a hard pillow, it’s none of your business, giggly boi. – Émile couldn’t help nor stop the pitched squeal that escaped from his mouth, eyes widening and breathing immediately stopping, the others giggles also begging to escape. - Oh, and, by the way, better keep your mouth very shushed while this. We don’t want the Tickler Master waking up, am I right?

 Silence.

 Remy’s nonchalant tune still full filling the air, which didn’t carried the sound of his steps anymore. The cartoon lover knew there was no way for him to save himself and, in a surrender act, just let his high, excited giggles run happily across the room hiding his face in flames behind his tremble hands. Seconds later, he heard the sound of his door being closed and his hide spot exposed.

 - But we both know that you just can’t contain yourself, my so poor, so defenseless lee. – Émile playfully screamed as he was lifted up in the air, quickly being carried in bridal style. He opened his eyes enough to see Remy in a bat of eyes deviating his glare from his form, the tender smile taking pieces of seconds before changing to an evil grin, fingers suddenly tweaking his kneecaps and hips, leading the carried to jump, a squeal signaling the flow of giggles that followed it.

 - Please, Remy, please!! – Each new squeeze was a snort interrupting his words, making him try to start again only to get the same result and repeat the cycle all over, resulting in a more helpless babbling than anything else. The said stopped, adjusting his hold in order to sneak his thumb in that damn spot right between his shoulder blades, switching between kneading and prodding while leading to an even more no-understandable sentence. - No there, no there, no there!!! Pleasepleaseplease-

 - Huh? Whatcha you are trying to say, hun? That I’m the most handsome husband in the entire world? That you are so sensitive that only a few squeezing and prodding are enough to transform you in a blushy, laughing mess? – The one being held felt his laughter increasing, the words spreading tingles in all his others ticklish spots, even the ones which weren’t being attacked. He shakes head, denying. – Is that you love all these teases and specially when I tickle tickle tickle you? Huh? Use your words, babe.

  – Nonononono! – Émile arched his back just to find another attack to his hips, bucking the said as Remy buzzed his fingers in the exact point where his sides and hips connected, and generating loud crackling as response. – You a- nah! You are mean mean mean!! – His arms danced to a place to another, too much occupied with the crazy sensation to really focus in stopping it, Remy increasing his efforts in order to make the snorts start to bloom amongst his laughter and squeals, no needing too much to succeed. – Remy!!!

 - Yes, gurl? Geez, you should love my name. It seems like you can’t even spent a whole real minute without saying it! – His tune was still nonchalant. However, he leaned down for a heartbeat in order to steal a peck from his beauty, giggly and cute as fuck, husband, who obtained a new shade of red creeping down his neck. Nooooice. – Anyway, what did you wanna tell me? Be quick, I still having a lot of places to knead, scratch, scribble, wriggle… This whole ‘Tickle your extremely ticklish husband, like, really, reeeeeally ticklish, like seriously, this guy is a whole tickle spot himself, a alive version of Tickle Me Elmo, and, when he became a helpless mess just tease him more and more until the big, rational, Émile Picani turns in just a poor, so poor, blushy lee.

 - REMY!!

 - What? Can’t handle the truth? Boo-hoo, then.

 Émile didn’t answered, unless you considered his fast, absolutely incoherent, stumbling words a kind of response, choosing to clench is hands in his shirt and hide his face in flames, instead. His laughing being so strong that reverberate through the attacker’s chest, who couldn’t stop feel like a villain as he stared with a gigantic grin adorning his lips the ribs that such act let defenseless. Well, he internally shrugged as he took a deep breathe, suit himself. His arms were growing tired anyway.

 Émile thought he was going to melt in any moment, the teases still heating his sensitive skin and increasing the tickles in a way that should be definitely illegal, but in the moment he felt the raspberry, spreading, taking over his nerves and T I C K L I N G he died.

 And screamed, for sure. Oh, and also gripped something while kicked and trashed as if Mabble’s life was depending on it (not his own life, of course, since he was already dead). Some part of his desperate brain noticed he was falling, but the laughter exploding from his mouth and the impossible to ignore feeling quickly expelled any other thing.

 He opened his eyes, breathless as his watery vision focused in the form mostly layed onto him, their giggles flying and filling the entire room. After some heartbeats, Remy finally got up, his hands resting on the floor and sustained the weight of his body. Their eyes met.

 - I’ve forgot how much of a kicker you are. – Émile just curled up a little more, pulling his tongue out in a very mature and hard to win, statement

 - ‘s not my fault your arms are weaken than Deadly Arms’ ones.

 - Excuse you?

 - Nuh.

 - I beg your heck pardon?

 - No, you let me fall for you. Twice. In love and on the floor. I’m ignoring you until the end of ours married days.

 - Oh, is that so? – Remy replied, adjusting his position so his hands would lay each one in the sides of his husband’s head, who immediately recognized the smile beginning to shine and exploded one more time in a flow of giggles, his arms in front of his body, attempting to conjure a kind of shield.

 - Wait wait waitwaitwait!! Nonono! – A yelp cut his sentence when a hand tweaked his thigh. - I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

 - Yep, gurl, you will b- And his threat was interrupted when Émile pushed his shirt and connected their lips, stealing his words, breath and any and every coherent thought from his head, his giggles still floating from his mouth, which leaded, if that was even possible, to the coffee lover melt further, allowing himself to be carried away by the tenderness and love, sighing and deepening the kiss.

 …Until that dirty, evil, nasty cheater digs his fucker fingers in his damn stomach, which ruined the romantic moment and absolutely did NOT made Remy Tough Picani release a half shriek half snort that DIDN’T resulted in the only one wearing glasses coos softly, excuse you.

 - Awww. – Émile gave him an innocent smile, quick turning the tables and sitting on Remy’s legs, his fingers swinging in a dance that consisted in craving his thumbs right above his waistline and vibrating his others fingers in his torso, the maddening sensations culminating to free, belly laughter escape from the ‘victim’s’ mouth. Eyes tightly closed, wrinkled nose. – What is the matter, my dear? The cool, bad boy Remy can’t take some ti-tickly tickle tickling in his tummy-yummy-yummy? Huh? Huh? Can’t he? Because he is super hype dyper sensitive, aren’t you? Yes, you are! You are!

 - OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!! – Remy could feel his face, against his own will power and threats, melt in flames. His laughter being replaced by hysterical giggling as his husband changed his technique to spidering, slowly walking his fingers up before quickly drag his nails in random patterns the way down, going up and down one time more and after that a couple more of times, always managing to catch four or five snorts. – THIS IS SO DUMB, FUCK.

 - Now, now, Mister Ticklish Master. Let’s not be a Squidward to the Tickle Monster, alright? He just wanna to hear aaaaaaall that adorably, lovely, helpless giggles of yours!! – Émile lowered down and touched their noses, his smile increasing as he felt the other’s laugh hitting his cheeks, his tune now in flying in joyful whispers. – And what a cute laughter you have! Definitely the most lovely, sweet and favorite lee of the Tickle Monster!

 - ‘m not- ‘m not cuteyourbi-nOPLEASENOTTHERE- His words stumbled in each other, specially when his shirt was lifted and a finger began to squirm and scratches his bellybutton, his legs now kicking while his hands tried to get enough strength to stop the marvelous move. However, exemplary falling as the attacker focused some quick prodding in the exposed axillaries, receiving what was suppose to be an angry snort. Émile couldn’t help but coo one more time. – I’M. NOT. – He couldn’t help the squealing cutting his sentence. - CUTE. FUCK OFF!

 Émile made a soft sound of sadness, pouting even if his husband was still with his eyes tightly closed, unable to see it.

 - Now, it’s a pity that you don’t believe in the words of your own husband. – He switched to lightly scribbles and pokes at his sides and lower ribs, making sure to rub circles in each one of them while also gave his ‘victim’ some room to breathe and understand his words.

 - Well… maybe, maybe he would… – Remy tried, really tried to frown and looks angry, but that was really hard with the giggles still interrupting his words. His body melting in the gentle, good touch. Totally against his will, for sure. - ... if his husband wasn’t being a jerk and tickling him.

 He stared directly at Émile, therefore he didn’t lose the slightest which red freckled his cheeks, smirking, wobbly that is true, but also proudly in being the only between both who managed to say ‘tickle’ without shuttering. Sadly, though, he also didn’t lose the way his eyes and smile widened, showing that the other had an idea.

 Butterflies started to panic in his stomach, especially when Émile’s gaze focused there with a ratter crazy gleam, his next phrase coming out as a soft, dangerous purring.

 - You know… all of this made the Tickle Monster a bit hungry… and he heard that some lil lil lee has a very yummy yummy tummy right here. – His hands squeezed his belly, as if to prove his point. Remy jumped, the adrenaline running all speed across his body as the words starting to weight in his brain.

 - Wait, WAIT! Émile!!! – The one being called slowly moved towards his target, ignoring the squirm and pleas from his husband, who grew more and more desperate as his attacker innocently smiled and looked at him, his head gradually lowering to his most ticklish spot. – Émile, Émile, please, I’m actually begging you. I’m begging you!! I’m cute, see? I said it!!! Émile!!!!

 - I’m listening. ~

 - No, you’re not! – His euphoric, hysteric giggles already began to take over his sentences. – No! Fuck!!

 - No? – Émile’s lips already were resting on his belly, the word sending shivers across his nerves, which was not helped by the fact that the other absently shook his head, demonstrating his saying.

 - No! No!

 - A no to ‘no’? So that is a yes?

 - nO.

 - No? But what about the ‘yes’?

 - Stop it! Oh my gosh, I’m gonna to get a bitching divorce!! It’s a no to your yes!

 - Got it! It’s a ‘no’, then?

 - Yes!

 - A yes? Okay!

 Before any other protest could fly from his mouth, a shriek did it first. And again. And again. And one more time, almost as fast as the nuzzled raspberries buzzing and the nibbles, together with the ‘nhom nhom nhom’s’ sounds, spread and madly tickled in a total oblivion to his kicks, pushes and loud, thunderous laughter painting the air.

 It didn’t took too much before the cartoon lover stopped, already aware of the other’s limits, and touched their foreheads again, Remy’s breathing and reminiscent giggles being the only thing breaking the silence which involved them in a calm, cozy, warm feeling.

 - You don’t look at me like that, your traitor. – His tune was free of any harm, his bright gaze and blushed cheeks locking his attention. Émile couldn’t help himself but kiss the pout out of his face. – And don’t you dare to kiss me. – Quick kiss. - I don’t trust in your sweet lips anymore. – Soft kiss. – They are a hell of a trap. – Giggly kiss.

 - I love you.

 Their eyes met, one more time, and Remy finally gave up, swimming in that deep, caring moment. Their hands intertwined themselves.

 - I love you, too. – He lightly poked Émile’s ribs, winning a yelp before receiving the same treatment. – But only sometimes.

 - Uh huh.

 - What? It’s the truth!

 - Sure it is, dear.

 Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 Their heart did, beating in unison.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: It’s been a while. My days off were spent with writing rather than posting. Now? It’s time to catch up a bit. Have an edited version of a story I’d only just begun getting into before I’d left Tumblr at the beginning of the year. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block. 

Also, this is NOT hate against Danneel. It’s a piece of fiction using real humans as the base. There will be NO negativity against her, the Ackles family, or anything tolerated here.

Upcoming Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Angst. Death. Grieving process. Upcoming smut. Age Gap. And more. Each chapter will be labeled accordingly.

Word Count: Roughly 3,700

“How's he holding up?” Genevieve Padalecki was an actual goddess as she sat across from you in the sunken living room. A loose, white tee paired with ripped jeans while resting on the navy blue couch. Even as drawn and tired as she appeared in that moment, beneath the LeMay hummingbird art, she was incredible. Somehow held mostly together even with the circumstances in front of her. You yearned for that kinda strength.

“He's been trying to smile... Laugh for the kids.” You answered quietly, not wanting to wake the napping children. Or, the resting widower.  As if your voice could carry that far in the massive home. But, it was the first bit of real sleep any of them had gotten since the nightmare had begun. You wouldn't chance it. They needed all the rest that they could muster. “It's falling short...but he's trying.” Your own tired eyes met the red rimmed dark orbs in front of you. “How about you and Jared?” She shook her head, slowly. Her actress's facade crumbling all at once.

“God, I miss her.” The once smooth voice cracked as she fought back the tears. Finally giving into the grief a little. “So...so much...It hasn't even been two weeks, yet, Y/N.” She looked so broken. So defeated. “How am I supposed to survive the rest of my life without my best friend?”

You wanted to give an answer. Wanted to be able to tell her it got better. But, you couldn't. It'd be a lie. Nothing was better in a world without the sunny smile the Mrs. Ackles had bestowed, undoubtedly, every time you turned around.

“I ask myself that question almost every second of everyday.” Jensen's deep voice was ragged as he stood in the hallway. His hair was spiked from the tossing and turning he'd done while he'd tried to escape the reality of his new life. Your heart shattered again at the sight.

“Jens-”

“It's okay,” He was gruff, but not harsh as he cut Genevieve off. Too worn to even begin to try to be angry. His jeans and shirt were wrinkled. Beard untrimmed. Eyes red and glazed with grief. “We're going to be okay. Danneel...she'd want that.” If he said it enough, he might just believe it. “Kids still out?” You could only nod. A lump too large for words to pass rested in your throat.“Good.” His head bobbed with that. As if in a trance. “I'm gonna take a walk...head down to the lake.”

He didn't ask if anyone would watch them. That's what you were there for. His pockets were filled with his beefy hands, and then he was gone as quickly as he'd come.

“I don't know if I can stay here.” You uttered when he was out of hearing range; tossing your hand through your tangled hair. Somehow even more ragged from the brief interaction.

It was all too much. He needed assistance with the twins and J.J. You knew that. But, it was terrifying having to face the grieving process head on. To feel the weight of a love lost residing in the air. Having to stand up to it all while losing your friend in the process. Needing to try and fill the void that was left behind after the accident while holding an entire family together. Anyone would strain under that level of responsibility.

Running would be easier. That was a fact you couldn't seem to escape. It always had been. God knows you'd done it enough in your life. Everything inside of you begged you to take the chance. Flee. And yet...you hadn't quite gathered enough courage to actually try it. Leaving yourself in an odd sort of purgatory.

“He'll understand.” Gen didn't even bother to look back at you. Having latched onto an image of the deceased in the corner. A happy little number showing her and her children.

“Will he?” You didn't believe it. Not even a little. She wasn't there to see the worst of his grief. How alone he was. Your fingers ripped at a hangnail as you pondered over it all.

Jensen had lost his entire future. And with that? He'd lost his focus. The undying optimism he'd once held. His charming dash of humor. Maybe once, he'd have forgiven you walking away. But, not anymore. The kids, his job, and the brewery were overwhelming at the best of times. It was unmanageable even with the help, then. He needed you more than ever.

That's why you'd been hired, initially. To break up the load. Or, so Danneel had claimed. In reality? She'd held everything down just fine with a babysitter on the side. She'd just used it as an excuse to draw you in. Now? It was time to live up to the promise.

You were pulled out of your thoughts with a small sigh, “Even if he doesn't?” Your heart ached at the thought. “You have your own life, Y/N...it's your choice.” Her final words went straight to the point. Injuring you with the bluntness of it. “And if there's anything we learned from all this? Life is too short to fuck around with.”

With that, she took her leave. Needing to find some air. Get back into a head space to handle the other half of the grieving family she was returning to.

You craved the same escape. Instead, the twins appeared. Miniatures of their parents clad in Paw Patrol footie pajamas. Hair mused as they crawled into the comfort you could offer. Solemn, as if their young minds could fully grasp the idea of death. Hours later, JJ walked in the large wooden door. A deep frown etched onto the smooth lines of her face. Her bag dragging the ground as she and Jensen joined. The false cheer emitting from the booming voice only made the tension in the air increase. It was cloaking.

As the night went on, things grew worse. A tight hold on the back of your neck crept forward until your entire skull felt as if it was being crushed. Far from the first time. Zep didn't want the lasagna you'd made. His once ravenous appetite long gone. Justice Jay was trying to step up; telling him how he needed to eat. How her mom would have got him to, and that anyone who couldn't get the boy to wasn't trying hard enough. Arrow sat crying, too distraught to take even a  bite.

Jensen had looked so damn lost while sitting in the tan backed kitchen bar-stool that you'd had no choice but to pull out a whistle. Danneel had used it during a girl scouts meeting months before. And then had brought it back around any time the family got to be too chaotic. Another brilliant idea from the lost soul.

Zep settled for a small, microwavable macaroni and cheese that had been reserved for emergencies. J.J was talked down, gently. Not taking away from her grief; simply bringing her back to a softer place. Arrow was able to eat on your lap; settling into the comfort of a woman's touch gladly. The widower watched in a daze. Being the only one in the room you hadn't needed to fix. Until you noticed that he wasn't eating. Leaving you to discard your plate even longer while you coaxed him into following his kids' lead.

Bed time didn't come nearly fast enough. Dishes with two toddlers flinging soapy water across the designer kitchen. Another night of fighting over homework with Justice. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and never leave.

With a weary sigh, you left the room Arrow occupied to herself. Moving down the stairs as fast as you could to give yourself some distance. Slamming your hand through your hair all the while. Not sure how much longer you could go on, taking care of everyone. You never had time to process. To breathe. God, how you wanted to breathe again.

Your back pressed against the wall after you hit the main floor. Utter relief filling your veins at the lack of noise. Slouching, you turned to look out at the darkened lake. Hoping the peace of it would trail to you. Only to shoot straight up seconds later as footsteps lumbered down the stairs.

“Thanks,” Jensen appeared, looking worse for the wear. Before you could even think to start, he continued, “Seriously, thanks. I don't...I don't know what I'd do...” His throat worked as emotion threatened to spill over. “I know we're a lot.” That was the understatement of the century.

“Jensen-”

“Don't try n' down play it, Y/N.” He kept going. As if he had no choice. Almost as if he could feel your desperation to run, and was trying to stop it. “We're a wreck, right now. But, you? You make...make it a little less chaotic.” His eyes were watery as he talked. The dam threatening to spill over. Guilt snaked through you at the words. And then he pulled out the last batch of words you wanted to hear. “You're a lot like her. You know that?”

“I don't want to...to take her place,” Your words were garbled as you swallowed the emotion. Terrified that you'd be trapped into the empty space she left behind. Breaking all the while. “I don't...I don't want to just step into the role.” Your own eyes watered as you aired your fears. Gasping for some kind of air. “I don't know how...how to play mom full time. Or step in as the pretend wife of a TV star. I can't even take care of myself. That's why she brought me here.” The emotional fall had been doomed to show up, eventually. You simply hadn't expected it to be so soon. Or so in his face. But, that didn't stop the tirade of emotion leaving your lips. “I want her back, too. I want her to walk...walk back through the door, like every time she's left. To thank me for looking out for you guys... T..tell me how strong I was for holding down the fort... until she got back.”

Because that's the kind of woman she was. She'd loved her family. Her friends. Her careers. And most of all, life. She'd built everyone up. Having her gone had tore them all down.

A tear trailed down your face as you realized Jensen was openly crying. Silent as the water ran down both cheeks. Drop after drop as he fought back a sob. You comprehended then, the enormity of what you'd done.

“Y/N-”

“I'm sorry!” Cutting him off, you tried to find something to say. Anything else. But, words escaped you again. A gasp left your lips when he brought his hands up to your arms, but you didn't have a chance to pull away. He tugged you close. Breaking you further. His arms encompassed you as you both cried deeply. Letting out everything you'd held back since you'd gotten the call about the accident. “I'm...I'm s...so...s...sorry.” You hiccuped into his chest. No longer feeling the need to be strong. His own body shook as he tried to settle back down. “I'm...I'm such a...such a bitch.”

“You're a good friend.” He breathed out in a broken sigh when he could finally gain enough composure to take a step back. But, he didn't break the contact. Needing the sense of closeness as his world spun. “She would have been...she would have proud of you, you know.” You lost it again at that one. Thinking back to the day that had wrecked all of your lives.

Danneel had been going to the brewery. Just as she had everyday. She should have come back. She should have never have been found on the side of the road. A hit and run. The bastard who was guilty had yet to be found.

“I'm sorry,” You pulled away from his grasp completely that time. Wiping at your face clumsily.  Snot plugged up your nose. Your cheeks were stained from the tears. “What I said...I didn't mean it.”

“You did.” Jensen stated easily, falling back onto the closest couch. His head resting in his hands. “That's okay, though.”

“It's not.” Your eyes landed on the image from the wedding that rested on the coffee table as you dropped beside him. It was the closest you two had been in the entire time you'd known each other. Picking it up, you looked closer. Basking in the bit of joy that still resided inside the walls of the home. “She was beautiful.” Your thumb stroked over the image. “And, funny. Smart as a whip.” You'd thought you were all dried out, but another piece of water made its way down your face. “It was hard to not fall in love with the energy she put out there.” Gen had said Danneel had been her best friend. She'd been yours, too. Even though you'd only held her in your life a short time. “She saved me from myself...did you know that?”

“Kinda,” He answered carefully. His own eyes drawn to the ten year old image. “She never gave me the full details.” He leaned in closer, the pad of his finger brushing away the small piece of dust that gathered in the corner. “She just told me that you needed help...and to pretend that she did.”

“That sounds like her,” You whispered, your lips tugging up in a lopsided smile. Thankful to the ghost in the room. “I'd been kicked out of my boyfriend's place. He got bored, or something. I really haven't figured out the 'why' if I'm being honest with myself. Can't even remember why I was with him.” Your hand came back up to wipe against your face as your mind trailed back. You'd lived down the road. Only for a week or two. A perfect stranger. Your bag had hit the grass as she walked by with the twins. A daily stroll turned into more. She'd watched as you stared at the door in disbelief after it slammed shut. “She asked me if I was okay. I lied and said I was...she didn't believe me.”

“She's...She was good at that.” He caught himself trying to keep her in the present. You didn't bring attention to it. Didn't want to hurt him anymore than you already had.

“Dee didn't think twice. Packed me up and took me to a motel. Took my phone number to check in...” If you tried hard enough, you could still remember her holding out her phone. A simple smile on her face as she waited for you to do as told. Knowing you'd cave. You hadn't expected her to really call. Had been oddly relieved when she had. “I had trouble finding work, so she offered a place at the brewery. I didn't know how to take that kind of an offer.”

“Now that you mention it...” His head dropped to the back of the couch as he got more comfortable. Eyes closed as he traveled back in time mentally. “I remember that,” He looked a little lighter as he thought back to his wife. The frustrated call he'd received while on set about the woman who 'needed to come to terms' with Danneel's assistance. “The more you resisted, the more sure she was that she was going to help you out.”

“She used the twins.” Not that you'd complained. They were great. You'd spent hours making faces, drawing pictures, and the works with two of the sweetest children you'd ever met. “She was working on handling the paperwork, and asked me to play with them for a bit. Reeled me in like a fish.”

It had started with one day, with food as your payment. Then, it was for a few hours daily for food and some cash. Next thing you knew, you were in a small guesthouse they'd added to property. It had been the beginning of the best six months of your life. Helping with the kids, the brewery, and animals. You'd gotten a side job, but your notice had gone in as soon as you'd been able to. Jensen had needed all the help he could get with Danneel gone.

“Do you regret it?”

“She gave me a whole new life,” You sighed out, not quite answering the question. Looking at the animated face that rested in the frame. “And instead of being able to hold up? I break in half of a month...” Shame coursed through you.

“To be fair,” His voice was scratchy, “we're all a bit broken right now, Y/N...” No truer words had been spoken.

“What do we do, Jensen?” Your head rested against the back of the couch as he took the frame. Wishing like hell he could travel back to the day encased in ink, you were sure.

“We take it one day at a time,” It's all he knew how to do. Nothing else made sense. It was all too unpredictable. “It's hiatus...We don't have to worry about the show, for a few months. For now?” He tapped the glass, “For now, I'm going to take care of her babies.” The determined, pained note in his voice made your chest ache. “I know that I haven't been helping much-”

“Don't...” Letting him tear himself down wasn't something you could stand. “You're doing better than anyone would dream.” Your hand reached over and squeezed his. Offering a bit of comfort. Not knowing how else to handle it all. “Take care of yourself, too...Eat. Try to sleep. Take your time to clear your head.”

“You could stand to do that, yourself, Y/N...” He swallowed tightly. His own guilt raising its head. He'd been so stuck inside his own mind that he'd missed all the warning signs. How slow you moved. Raw pain lining your features. All of it amplified by how long it had been ignored. “Go... get some sleep. We can start looking for someone else to take over, tomorrow...if that's what you really want.”

With that, he led himself to his room. Leaving you to rest on the couch. Trying to decide if that's what you really needed.

–

“Morning, sleepy,” You whisked the batter. Working to get it as smooth as you could. Zeppelin rubbed his eyes deeply. The green dinosaur pajamas seemed shorter than they'd been the night before. He was growing fast. He'd need more soon. “Blueberries in your pancakes?” A tired nod was your answer as Arrow trailed behind in her favorite Elsa covered nightgown. “Chocolate chips?” Another sleepy, head bob followed. Justice Jay wasn't quite as easy. She was filled with seven year old independence. Ignoring the clothes you'd set out the night before in a way that only a strong headed child could. Instead, donning herself in a purple top with yellow leggings. Her hair, all but the back, brushed neatly. “Strawberries?”

“I can do it,” Her eyes turned up to look into yours. Demanding independence. After all, she was woman of the house, now.

You simply nodded, handing over a bowl of batter and the strawberries she wanted. They were pre-cut. All she had to do is mix the two together. You even let her flip them; feeling more than generous. It was the weekend, after all. And she needed to feel in control of something. Her mood increased slowly, but surely. Maybe I'm onto something...

“Smells good,” Jensen's lips smacked as he walked into the room, as you served up the first round of food.

His casual clothes were less wrinkled than the day before. He seemed more alert. Less like a bottle waiting to explode. The crying, despite how much everyone hated it, was good at clearing some of the pain. At least, enough to make everyone semi-functional.

“Good,” You gestured as you poured a bit of batter from each bowl onto the griddle. “Eat.”

“What about you?” His brows snapped together.

Gone was the mess he'd witnessed the night before. Mostly. The bags still rested beneath your eyes- something he hadn't noticed until tears had caught on them. However, he couldn't help but to zero in on every detail.

“I'll eat in a minute. I'm almost done.” The spatula waved his way. Killing any hope of him taking over. “Now, you eat.”

“Yes, ma'am,” He grumbled, sitting down with his children. Muttering about you being a bully to earn little giggles.

Slowly their personalities began emerging for what felt like the first time in forever. Zep was making zooming noises as he splashed his plane shaped- or as close to it as you could replicate- pancake into his syrup. Arrow was humming to herself, kicking her feet. Spreading more than enough butter across her crown shaped breaded breakfast- princesses were her current favorite thing. Dark hair bouncing on her head as she moved. Little J. Bird was telling her daddy about the animals they'd seen on their school outing the day before. And Jensen? He was enthralled. Giving her every bit of the attention she needed.

Your lips tugged up as you pictured Danneel watching over her family in the back. Her little content smile resting on her face as she looked at all of those she loved. She'd be leaning against the counter, ankles crossed with a headband holding back the hair that escaped her bun. Happy as a lark.

With a deep breath, you walked over to the table with the second plate to ensure that everyone got their helpings. When Jensen's eyes met yours again, he mouthed 'thank you'. You sent back a 'you're welcome' quietly before turning back to Zeppelin as he let out a mini roar, seeking the attention on him. In that moment, you understood. You weren't going anywhere...

Part Two

@winchester-ofthe-lord​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​

[rivalsforlife]

oooo i'm sorry but one more scene for commentary if youre up to it: maya and phoenix talking in chapter 6?

Of course, no need to apologize!! Once more, keeping this under a “keep reading”:

Around noon, his apartment intercom buzzed. “Nick, it’s Maya! Let me up.”

Maya? What was she even doing here? Maya never visited him out of the blue anymore… Whatever. She’d probably think he was at his office. She’d go away soon.

There was another buzz. “Nick! I know you’re in there! I called your office, you know!”

Kids these days. Selling out their bosses that easily… Maybe he should cut Athena’s salary. Nah, he wasn’t Edgeworth. … Edgeworth.

“don’t think about Edgeworth don’t think about Edgeworth -- ah damn it”

“Nick! Hello! Nick!”

She had to give up eventually, right? Whatever she was here for, someone else could help her…

“Security’s coming after me, if they arrest me you’re gonna have to defend me, you know, do you want that? I’m not even gonna try to pay you for it since it’s gonna be your fault —”

Ugh.

Phoenix stumbled out of bed and buzzed her in. “Fine. Come up.”

“Thank you!” she chirped in a sing-songy voice. “Hey, you heard him, let me go…”

Maya’s Obnoxious Little Sister Energy is eternal. Her next strategy was to break from the guards and dash as far as she could go trying to break her way into Phoenix’s apartment which... wouldn’t have ended well haha.

Also! Like I mentioned in the previous ask, a lot of this fic was just Phoenix’s Relationship Issues, and the way I characterized him in this fic was a lot of... he needs to have people around or he kind of falls apart, and his history of having people around was that these people needed him in some way -- Maya after she was accused of murder and then hanging around for Mia’s sake, Trucy being abandoned and needing looking after, even Miles to an extent needing to be saved from his corrupt ways and the von Karma influence -- and now that they’re all growing up and don’t need him anymore he thinks they’re going to abandon him.

That’s a long-winded way of referring to that one sentence of “Whatever she was here for, someone else could help her”

Also... I don’t live in an apartment and haven’t visited many apartments? So I’m not totally sure how the whole buzzing someone in process works. no one’s called me out on it though so I guess I’m okay.

Phoenix sighed and wondered if he should make himself look presentable. There probably wasn’t enough time. Maya wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t changed his clothes for two days, right?

She probably would. But he couldn’t do anything about it, as just then there was a knock on the door. Figuring he should appease her so she wouldn’t give security anymore trouble, he reluctantly let her in.

Indeed, there was Maya, looking cheery as ever. “Hey, dude. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” said Phoenix, and in response to Maya’s raised eyebrow as she took in his appearance, “Just not feeling well. Why’re you here, Maya? I thought you were busy up at the village.”

passive-aggressive “oh aren’t you supposed to be busy?” from Phoenix here...

One of the other major changes I made to this fic in the editing process was cutting out a LOT of Maya content. I really love her and wanted her to be here more, but to properly go through the Phoenix Characterization Study I had to make it seem like she wasn’t around as much so that Phoenix would feel more lonely. again, sorry, Phoenix... but like originally she came down for the picnic in chapter 3 and was around at the beginning of chapter 4, so it would be SO WEIRD if she showed up in every single chapter except for chapter 5 and then Phoenix accuses her here of being too busy to hang out with him. She was there all the time! So I only had her show up for the wedding and added in a few more lines alluding to her not being here as much as she used to in trilogy days.

“I am,” she admitted, pushing her way into his apartment. “But your daughter called me yesterday morning and said that if you didn’t call, I should check in on you. So. Here I am. And I know you’re not just sick.”

Kids these days indeed! Like Phoenix didn’t feel bad enough, his own daughter had to go and parent him. “Look, Maya, everything’s fine. I’m sorry Trucy made you think something was wrong.”

One writing tip I got and I’ve been working on implementing is like... trying to have a general idea of what every character is up to when they’re not “on screen”, so to speak. Even then, what they’re thinking about when they’re not the POV focus. So basically after the call with Trucy just prior to this scene, she immediately decided to call Maya (because she could tell something was Off with her dad and Miles, given his reaction when she mentioned his name,) and then told her to check up on him because he really scared her during that phone call... though she wouldn’t admit it. She basically saw it as a hint of returning to a sort of... disbarment-era depression, which she didn’t want, so she wanted to make sure someone could check in on him as soon as he could since she couldn’t.

Also another small aspect of Phoenix characterization (that’s going to be like 99% of my commentary about this fic I’m sorry) is that the way he deals best with depression is like... being around people, and doing things with people. It’s obviously not a method that works for everyone, but it keeps him from dwelling on things and kind of gives him a purpose, helps him feel like he’s needed. Mostly got this headcanon from RFTA where he says he was unable to take on any cases when Maya was gone until Ema showed up... and then even at the beginning of 2-2 he does seem pretty down. Trucy kind of knows some of this since she was the main thing keeping him together during disbarment era, at least enough to know that when Phoenix is depressed he’ll do much better if he’s got someone he cares about around.

Anyways, Trucy probably told Maya just to call in, because she knows her aunt is busy and part of the reason Maya hasn’t been around much is because she’s stuck with all sorts of Master responsibilities at Kurain, but Maya herself wanted to come down and check on Phoenix in person because she knows how he can get and if it was enough to worry Trucy, then she was pretty worried too.

Maya planted her hands on her hips. “No way, mister. I did not take a two hour train ride down here for you to tell me everything’s fine. Do you know how difficult it was to get permission to leave?! I had to pull the old ‘I need to visit my boyfriend’ card for them to let me go!”

Phoenix groaned, despite himself. “Have they still not caught on about that?”

“Their desperation for an heir has blinded them to common sense. They made me drink some disgusting fertility tea before I left, so you really owe me one.” She lowered her hands and sighed. “Look, Nick, I know something’s up. So talk to me. Please.”

I took a few liberties to sprinkle in my Kurain headcanons in here... which I’ve rambled about more in depth elsewhere, so I won’t go into too much detail, but basically: hereditary spiritual power leads to a lot of pressure on people who have said hereditary spiritual power to reproduce so they can pass it on to the next generation. Particularly with Maya (and Pearls to some extent though I believe Maya would willingly take the heat on it) since the two of them are the only remaining spirit channelers of the Kurain technique. And since it took Maya a really long time to become the Master officially (I don’t buy the idea that she wasn’t skilled enough by the end of T&T, my headcanon is the Master training process involves two years in Khura’in but she put that off until Phoenix was in the clear regarding Kristoph stuff) they probably don’t want her leaving the village to “goof off” unless she’s doing it to produce an heir. her biological clock is ticking! haha! (... ugh.)

And this kind of leads to -- in the elaborate backstory of this fic that I can only touch on through DVD commentaries which is like half the reason I do these things -- Maya and Phoenix agreeing that if Maya needs to get out of the village but whoever the other people in the village are start putting pressure on her, she can say she’s “visiting her boyfriend” who they think is Phoenix but really isn’t... and I guess they assume they’re getting up to heir-making activities but oh darn! didn’t work this time! guess I’ll have to go again next week! (obviously they’re just out getting burgers or something.) 

Hence people in the village pushing fertility tea on her because they think the problem is that she’s not getting pregnant... although they’re kind of misunderstanding the reason why she’s not getting pregnant... because no amount of fertility tea in the world will lead to a spontaneous pregnancy without other activities first. which aren’t happening. I feel like I need to clarify this multiple times just in case someone misunderstands.

Pearls both knows about this agreement and knows that Phoenix and Maya aren’t actually dating because she’s like nineteen now? She’s probably known for years, she never brings it up during DD and SOJ.

“I won’t go into much detail” oops. I’m so sorry.

Phoenix didn’t say anything.

Maya took him by the arm and guided him to the couch, plopping him down none-too-gently before sitting next to him. “You can trust me, right?” she asked. “You’re my best friend. I’m here for you, even if you did something really stupid.”

Phoenix laughed a bit. “Yeah… I did something really stupid.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

Phoenix buried his face in his hands with a sigh, then rolled his head to peek through his fingers at Maya. She looked — angry, sure, he wasn’t exactly being the most cooperative of people right now, but — open. Prepared. Like she was actually going to listen.

I know that SOJ called Miles Phoenix’s best friend, which don’t get me wrong I absolutely loved, but I do wish Maya was ALSO considered Phoenix’s best friend if not one of his closest friends, because they’re so obviously best friends. They’re a different flavour of best friends than Phoenix and Miles, because Phoenix and Miles are the “it’s complicated and there are secret romantic feelings possibly but we trust each other unconditionally” best friends, Phoenix and Maya have a twenty-five step secret handshake they have to execute every time upon meeting.

But of course that doesn’t mean they can’t be serious, Maya is absolutely here for her dumb best friend

“It’s…” He sighed, again. “Have you ever — have you ever wanted something for a really long time, but — but you never thought you’d get it, and then you have this chance, and you just… panic?”

Maya nodded solemnly. “Steel Samurai movie premiere tickets. I won a raffle, but I forgot I signed up for them and thought it was a hoax, and didn’t get to accept them before the deadline. The bad Wi-Fi didn’t help, either.”

“But that doesn’t mean they can’t be serious” um

The one constant among all the ace attorney main characters is that NONE OF THEM WANT TO TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS EVER

Also I struggled a lot with this fic trying to figure out... exactly what was going on in Phoenix’s head, and how he would interpret what was going on in his head. I kept changing opinions all the time and it was so off before I did editing haha. Even this line is still a little weird with the “Have you ever wanted something for a really long time” because he probably shouldn’t be aware that he has wanted this for a long time. ... I’m going to stop pointing out the flaws in my own fic now--

At Phoenix’s glare, she added, “I’m just kidding. Thought I’d lighten the mood a bit. Is this about Edgeworth?”

“What makes you think that?”

“‘Cause when is it not about Edgeworth with you,” asked Maya, cutting straight to the heart of things, as always. “Did he ask you out?”

“Not even that.” Phoenix turned his gaze to the floor, ashamed. “He said he loved me. I… I told him I didn’t feel the same.”

Maya was silent for a moment. Phoenix didn’t dare look at her. “Do you?”

“I like being around him,” said Phoenix. “I like seeing him smile, and laugh, and — and he makes me happy.”

What he wouldn’t give to see Edgeworth smile and laugh at him again.

“Not what I asked, dude.”

“Nick’s being really broody again it’s GOTTA be Edgeworth...”

Anyways that second-to-last line there is sticking out at me and I’m pretty sure it’s one I wavered back and forth on deleting before deciding to keep. ... at least I think I kept it? I’m taking these from google docs so there might be a few tiny changes from the ao3 version but I don’t think there’s anything too major I changed while doing last-minute edits.

Again we run into the problem of Phoenix Is Incapable Of Admitting He’s In Love With Miles -- which is the whole psyche-locks thing that pops up in the scene after this. The psyche-locks were also a pretty last-minute addition plot-wise... I think this fic was the most I deviated from my outline, but I was pretty rushed for time so I didn’t do as much planning as I normally would.

Hm I think there’s another ask where I can talk more about the psyche-locks? I’ll talk a bit here because I put a lot of thought into it. Basically I ran with the idea of black psyche-locks hiding something even the owner isn’t aware of, and that those psyche-locks are (typically? who knows about Kristoph) inflicted through traumatic events. Phoenix has three because I came up with three main Issues he had to work through, but some of them kind of blend together... two of them came up through specific traumatic events (Phoenix guesses them in chapter 8) and another one is just general overall trauma. if no one brings up the particular scenes by the time I get to that other ask, I’ll talk more about them, but basically there are three locks from three separate traumas and three occasions where they break -- someone guessed one of the breaking scenes on the narumitsu discord, but no one’s brought up the other two yet! 

Long-winded way of saying that the psyche-locks are the reason that Phoenix can’t admit that he’s in love with Miles yet... and it’s kind of a cheap fantasy visualization of the trauma, basically? Maybe not the most elegant way of addressing it, but I never claimed to be writing for a series which addresses issues elegantly.

“But — but can you even imagine it?” Phoenix demanded, raising his head to gesture fully at the ridiculousness of it all. “Me and Edgeworth?”

“Yeah,” said Maya, simply. “It’s not that hard, really.”

Phoenix had no response.

“You two balance each other out well, and you trust each other, and you both care a ton about each other,” Maya elaborated. “If you love him, what’s the problem?”

oh Phoenix you have no idea. you and Miles are so easy to imagine together that you’re the number one pairing on ace attorney ao3 by a longshot.

Also one thing I kind of wanted to avoid was less of the... “you and Miles are PERFECT for each other how do you not SEE this” thing. nothing against the trope, of course! Just the whole concept of people shipping their friends intensely is something I’m not super familiar with and tbh would make me pretty uncomfortable...? It’s sort of the deal with rpf. Of course this is fanfiction with fictional characters but from an in-universe perspective...

So Maya’s taking the approach of more “Yeah, I can see you and Edgeworth as a couple, I think you’d work well together” rather than “you two are SO perfect together and I’ve been shipping you since 2016!!” because while that may be what Maya is THINKING it’s definitely not what Phoenix needs to hear right now.

“It just… seems like a recipe for disaster. I wouldn’t even know how to… like, this isn’t my first time feeling like this, but when I think about us, me and Edgeworth, it’s…” Why couldn’t he find the right words? “It’s too much.”

Maya brought a hand to her chin and tilted her head thoughtfully. “So — tell me if I’ve got this right — you like Edgeworth too, but for some reason, when he confessed to you, you panicked and you don’t know why.”

“I guess…” Phoenix returned his face to the comforting darkness of his hands. “I don’t know what it is. I-I shouldn’t have a problem, right? But the thought of a-actually admitting that I… or being in a relationship, it feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and am about to fall off.”

Maya was silent for a long time. Phoenix just hoped that whatever she said next, it would somehow magically fix all his problems.

Instead, she said the most ridiculous thing Phoenix could possibly imagine. “Maybe you have trust issues?”

It certainly lightened the mood. Phoenix threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in a long time.

Phoenix is a very trusting person, absolutely, but you can’t tell me this man walked out of the Dahlia Debacle without quite a few romance-related issues. It’s kind of a weird sort of contradiction... 

“No, I’m serious,” she persisted, through his laughter.

“What are you talking about, Maya?” Phoenix managed to get out, once he had that fit of mirth under control. “There’s no way I have trust issues. My whole thing is trusting people and believing in people until the end, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But trusting someone not to be a murderer is a bit different, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like that’s as far as it goes,” Phoenix argued. “I trust you, I trust all of our friends, more than just not being murderers.”

“Yeah, sure, but romance is kind of on a different level.” She leaned back into the couch thoughtfully. “When’s the last time you’ve been with anyone?”

“... At least not since I got Trucy,” Phoenix admitted, only a little shamefully. “You try hooking up with people while having the world’s most perceptive daughter who’s desperate for a ‘new mommy’.”

“Been with anyone seriously, I mean.”

Phoenix winced. “... College.”

“I rest my case, Your Honor.”

Prettty self-explanatory here, I managed to get most of my thoughts on the actual fic instead of wanting to put it in an appendix or something. Basically... you can trust people in different ways? Phoenix can trust someone to not be a murderer to the extent of putting his own life on the line for them... but when it comes to revealing any sort of details about himself, or general emotional intimacy, he’s kind of stingy about it. Of course the out-of-universe explanation is “Phoenix doesn’t talk about this stuff because we need suspense so the player keeps playing the game instead of an exposition dump as soon as the issue comes up” but I like finding in-universe explanations for out-of-universe stuff.

I think I just regurgitated my points in a few excerpts oops.

Last little comment there regarding the idea of Phoenix presumably having a casual sex life -- Iiiiii am super asexual, have known that for a long time, generally kind of squeamish about the concept and also live a very sheltered life. so I don’t know much about people hooking up... like how people just go out and do these things. But I know people do these things so I try to reference it within my limited knowledge. Anyways yeah presumably that was happening in the background throughout the trilogy in the universe of this fic. probably not an important point. i’m moving on now.

“I’m not hung up on that!” Phoenix insisted. “Iris was a good person, she was the person I trusted. I’ve known that for years, now!”

“But she did lie to you,” Maya pointed out. “And you thought she tried to kill you for five years. I dunno, if it were me, I’d have a hell of a lot of relationship issues now.”

“Do you want me to psychoanalyze you too, now, Maya? It’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Oh, no thanks, that’s what therapy’s for,” she said, far too cheerily. “But really, Nick.”

Anyways I’m pretty invested in the whole Iris-Phoenix dynamic post-Bridge to the Turnabout, because like on the one hand, hypothetically the woman you were in love with but you thought was a killer coming out to say that she actually didn’t kill anyone and was actually in love with you should resolve all your lingering relationship issues resulting from that... but I don’t see that actually happening.

It probably took Phoenix the whole five years to come to terms with the fact that Dahlia hated his guts and tried to kill him, because I do believe he was seriously hardcore in love with her at the time. Well, Iris, but he didn’t know the difference. And then finding out Iris actually loved him... but not enough to actually, say, tell him this beforehand?... makes things kind of messy. Phoenix probably thinks he should be all better now but really the whole Dahlia-Iris thing was messed up and undoubtedly messed him up a lot.

Last little bit is just me squeezing in that Maya probably also has a lot of messed up relationship issues and also definitely needs therapy. (And is getting a bit of therapy in this fic! Good for her!) I have a lot of thoughts about Maya’s trauma... but unfortunately this fic is about Phoenix so I couldn’t go too in depth about that. Sorry, Maya. One day.

Phoenix sank further into the couch. “I don’t have trust issues.”

“Y’know, there’s still a lot of stuff I don’t know about you,” said Maya. “You never tell me anything personal until there’s a murder or something and then you have to. What happened to Edgeworth, both times. The whole Dahlia thing. It took me ages to get you to tell me how you got disbarred, even! And, like, romance has this level of intimacy to it, where he’d need to know stuff about you that I wouldn’t know, that Trucy wouldn’t know. And Nick, you know I love you, but I know you’re scared of that.”

“What do you know about it?” Phoenix snapped. “You’re barely ever here.”

He felt horrible as soon as the words left his mouth. Maya gave a sharp inhale and stiffened, her eyebrows knitting above an angry and hurt glare.

“I’m sorry,” Phoenix apologized, looking at the floor. “That was… that was unfair.”

“Yeah,” said Maya. “Yeah, it was.”

yep regurgitating my points from above. Anyways, highlights: platonic “I love you”s are great, we should have more of those. Just... emphasizing that it’s platonic because the Phoenix and Maya friendship is one of my favourite things in the series.

And there’s that “You’re barely ever here” comment that I had to cut Maya out of most of this fic to fit in, because otherwise it wouldn’t make any sense. In the universe of this fic Maya was pretty distant being busy with training and spirit medium Master stuff after the trilogy... and presumably hasn’t seen Phoenix as much as either of them would like. She loves hanging out with her best friend, and probably feels super guilty too, that Phoenix is dealing with all these issues and she can’t be there because she has other responsibilities -- so obviously it upsets her when Phoenix kind of accuses her of not being there for him, because she definitely would be, if she could, and if Phoenix would let her. 

Pretty much you can’t always be around for everyone all the time, Maya would be so worn out if she had to juggle coming down to the city to hang out with Phoenix all the time on top of all her other responsibilities. She knows this, Phoenix knows this too, he’s just kind of lashing out right now because he’s hurt and confused and misses all his important people, but Maya just happens to be in front of him right now.

And yeah what Phoenix said was pretty uncalled for, which he realizes right away, and Maya acknowledges -- a pretty short fight, I don’t think these two would stay mad at each other for too long. 

They sat in a tense silence for some time, until Maya sighed and brushed back her hair.

“Look, I’m saying these things because I’m scared of it, too,” she said, barely above a whisper. “After Mia, and Mom… I don’t want to be left behind again.”

“Maya…”

“Just think about it, okay?” She extended a pinky towards him. “Promise.”

Reluctantly, Phoenix linked his pinky with hers. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

points at this and says Maya’s Definitely Got Trauma From Trilogy Events then brushes it off to get off the uncomfortable emotion topics

“Good.” Maya hopped up from the couch and stretched her arms above her head. “I’ll forget about what you said if you buy me lunch, okay? I’ve got a client this evening, so I can’t stay long, but I’ve got enough time to stop by Eldoon’s.”

“If you insist,” said Phoenix with an exaggerated sigh, and Maya laughed, so Phoenix willed himself to push the conversation from his mind for now. Maya would be spending four hours on a train today for his sake; Eldoon’s really was the least he could provide.

and in true Phoenix and Maya fashion we’re just gonna forget about the emotions and go get ramen! 

Anyways thanks anon for requesting this scene I apparently have so many thoughts about Phoenix and Maya friendship... sorry if this is totally incoherent I should not have started this so late it’s like 11:30! But thank you! I will do more of these tomorrow... hopefully.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, BRIDGET! You’ve been accepted for the role of POMPEY. Admin Minnie: I had some trouble writing Piero in the beginning; in fact, I rewrote him a few times because I couldn’t find the right words to describe the core of him. But you, Bridget, nailed it exactly in ways that I had not even seen myself. You made him utter real — sometimes uncomfortably so, all of that feeling and pride, As I was reading your application, I immediately felt like he was already yours. I really tried to pick out my favorite line in your application, the detail that really drove it home for me — but the truth is, Bridget, you won me over so thoroughly that I love it all. I cannot wait to see you on our dash again, Bridget, and I’m so happy you’re back! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Bridget

Age | Twenty-two

Preferred Pronouns | She/they

Activity Level | I’m either gonna be on every three minutes or three days apart, there is no in between, but I promise to keep my activity constant and in line with your standards and let it be known if I am having any struggles with meeting them.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp?  | Hazel

IN CHARACTER

Character | Pompey ; Piero Montrelle Ruiz

Piero ; italian: rock

Montrelle ; italian: mountain

Ruiz ; spanish: famous ruler

What drew you to this character? |

Listen, I made a meme when I was apping Hazel, Imma show y’all right now:

It’s a dumb meme and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but share it.

I honestly play characters like Piero more than I play nicer, more morally-sound characters like Hazel, but I wanted to try something new, so ultimately I decided to pursue Hazel at the time. That said, as much as I love Hazel and would love to write her again, I kept thinking about Piero and his youth and ambition, and so now here we are, me obsessed and wanting to write him.

Okay, rambling ? Done. Let’s do this.

Something about Piero just screamed to me boy king, and that’s just my style. It was in the way he put himself above other children, his pride and his ego. He was born to be something and, in his youth, before he knew of his parents’ empire, before they told him who he was meant to be, he was searching for it. He couldn’t find in it eager kiddy games, he couldn’t find it in chit chat or childhood experiences. But there was something that rushed through him when he saw them stumble, he found satisfaction in figuring things out ages before them. It was in feeling better than them, feeling stronger and superior, and — simply, just being better. He had no time for laughter, for foolishness. What was the point of that, if not to waste time ? ( He was a mean boy, but his parents never pushed him not to be. If he caused another to bleed, it was their fault for not defending themselves. If his whispers of cruel words caused them to weep, they needed to strengthen their mental fortitude. No fault was to be found in Piero ).

I also want to pinpoint there’s something about Piero that also reads naivety to me. He considers himself wise and intelligent, and to some point I do agree ( books and tutors can teach, and they do ) but there are other notions that bring out his youth. It’s in his eavesdropping on his parents — yes, he was young when it happened, but still someone wiser would have understood that some secrets are such for a reason. Instead, he lusted for the unknown, something bigger than himself ( this — as well, is something I’d like to focus on, but I’ll come back to this later. ) and he found himself frenzied until he was finally privy to the family secrets. I see him as being inexperienced, someone who doesn’t have quite the worldliness as someone twice his age or even someone who had to struggle for basic needs during their childhood.

( Also, there is the fact his parents groomed him as being special. He never earned the title, instead it was bequeathed unto him from the very start. His parents claimed he walked younger than most, talked younger than most. He excelled in classes, he excelled in his physical ability. Again and again, his parents claimed him remarkable. I think, amongst the Veronesi, it might be time for him to realize that maybe he isn’t more than his name. This probably should go under plotting but I’m imagining him seeing others with skills he was never taught, maybe those his mother would have considered barbaric and uncouth. Piero wouldn’t see that, though. He would see force and deadly talent and he would see the areas in which he holds deficits. Also, just the ability and skill that comes with time and practice beyond natural talent. I keep reminding myself that, although a little bit weary with a lot of trauma, Piero is still nineteen. I used to think that was so old and so mature, but he’s barely more than a kid. Fun Science Fact: brains aren’t developed fully until their mid-20s !!! Some studies suggest early 30s !!!! Piero hasn’t even reached 20s !!!! He’s still baby !!!!! He’s going to make mistakes and learn and he might be reluctant and angry to do ( please see trauma re: parent death and assassination attempts )  so but he’s gonna do it to better himself which is what he wants to do !!! )

Piero learned so much from his parents, from tutors and teachers alike, but there is something more about experiencing things for himself and not just from the words of others and that’s where his youth shows. The first time he fought, really fought, not for practice or for fun ( something about him just coded him as a bully in my mind, one who’d pick a fight with someone who, one, would fight back, and, two, someone he would definitely beat, but I digress ), in my mind, was when Tiberius came to kill him. There was a fight or flight reaction and he was proud and cocky and pumped up on adrenaline because — this — this was what it was all for. He fought with a flurry of fists, frenzied, wild. In that moment, he knew this for certain: Ruizes were powerful and forceful and they would not flee. If he died right then, so be it, but he wouldn’t have looked death in the face and accepted it.

Okay, so this has turned into a rambling character analysis, and I apologize because I said I was done rambling, and clearly not. That said, I don’t regret it. I just have so much passion and fervor for Piero and I could write a ton more. I might. Later. We’ll see.

I just can’t help but be captured by how striking he is. He’s new to Verona, new to this scene of criminal seediness because this is when he’s finally beginning to get his hands dirty, beyond the basics of opening his eyes. His parents were introducing him to this life, but they didn’t let him delve too deep. They were bringing him in slowly, and then they died. He had nothing right then, nothing but his name and its weight. That wasn’t enough, but his brutality was. When death came for him, it made a mark on Tiberius for him — maybe all of the Capulets, too — and now he’s determined to leave a stain on all of Verona, perhaps Spain and the rest of the world, too.

I originally saw him as something of a blank slate when it came to his being in Verona, but after thinking it through a tad more, he isn’t. His parents wrote his future for him with the very incident of his birth, and now he is filling in the blanks that have been left for him after their deaths. Verona — the Capulets — they are a step in his path to power. Here, he could find allies — he already has enemies — and he learned at a young age the value others could be in company. Over time, maybe they will see that he is someone with a bright future, someone who should be watched carefully because blink and you’ll miss his grab for something better.

He should not be overlooked and that is something I think people might do. Sure, his family had a reputation, one that might cause some pause, but they might think he isn’t them. He is young and inexperienced, but there’s a chip on his shoulder and in his mouth is a taste for blood. He won’t go down quietly or without a fight. He is watching and waiting for chance and opportunity. He’ll prove any doubter wrong, he’s sure of it with all the self-confidence and egotism a princeling could have.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1. Emotional Motion Sickness: Something that struck me about Piero is how he once wore his emotions on his sleeve. He fought for his life, fueled by loss and grief. He has a practiced void in his eyes and locked tears away. In my mind, this is not him, it is not in his nature. He was the sort to be fueled by idle amusements, wanting satisfaction, his eagerness knowing no bounds. He feels, and he feels immensely. It could be said it’s what he does best.  But now? He is quiet, showing little. It’s vacant and a little numbing, and the void in his eyes is cold and distant. What his cards are and what he intends to play are known to him and him only. I can’t help but think that maybe, one day, he is going to break, the facade dropping, eyes blazing. Anyone caught in the crossfire surely would regret their taunts and jeers.

1. I just have this vision of him snapping. It would take a lot — honestly, a lot — because he’s created this solid version of himself, almost patient, somewhat mostly obedient ( I do imagine he chafes under rules a little — more than a little bit actually, but he bites it back time and time again ) but unfeeling. Jibs and jabs don’t get to him. They seemingly roll off of his back. I have to say that isn’t the case. He’s proud and he can only take so many insults. If — actually, when — he breaks, it’s going to have been a long time coming. The facade will start to break, cracks showing in the twitch of his fingers, the tension in his jaw. Maybe it will earn him respect from those around him when he snaps and demands more for him  — he’s more than just the last of the Ruizes, living off of the faded glory of their name, and he’ll be damned if he’s not allowed to show it — but maybe it will only be a reminder that he was a loose end, and he was meant to be dead to begin with.

2. Who Am I? You Decide: He comes to Verona and what’s most obvious is that he has offered himself wholly to the Capulets. It’s not what his parents did — they were owed power for their allyship while Piero is now owed nothing. At the beginning, he is dutiful and obedient. He’s got nothing to lose but he has everything to gain here. He has to prove himself, really it’s his main goal. To do this, he finally understands words his parents told him so many years ago. Detener la marea y esperarar al momento adecuado: Hold back the tide and wait for the right time. He’s trying to listen and be quiet and wait and watch, but he’s never known patience well. He acted and reacted in his youth — power and privilege granted that ability — and this restraint is taking a lot of effort.

1. The facade crumbles and falls slowly, piece by piece. It starts with remarks and quips that are a touch too dry and that have too jagged an edge to people who don’t matter. It then escalates. He tries to manipulate situations where he sees a chance to take hold. He bites when he should be muzzled ; he acts of his own accord. I have no doubt that his own desires and whims to take action will get him in trouble. He is a wicked boy and always has been, soul stained black by birthright and only darkened with time. He found thrill in other people getting hurt, whether by his hand or not. He found glee in twisting his words to twist knives in others’ hearts. Maybe he learned it from watching his parents — they were by no means good people — but maybe it was part nurture, part nature. It was fate to be bad, or at the very least unkind.

2. His true nature shows in these ways: he speaks when he shouldn’t, he becomes too comfortable around Tiberius, a man who is like a friend and a brother, but ultimately was the man who was meant to kill him. It shows in his interactions with Vivianne, charm oozing, frenetic words of grandeur and idyllic plans slipping from his lips in eager commentaries about Verona and Spain and the whole world further. He speaks to them as if they are not his betters — as if he is more than even an equal — and soon it is not only them. It will become everyone.

3. Throwing Rocks Around Your Room: Everything in his life has been destroyed or taken from him in irreparable ways. This new life, this new existence, a part of him wonders how long it will last ( there is, of course, a certainty that this has to last. It’s this life in the mobs, or death. No middle, no escape. All or nothing. Black or white ). He seems so neutral, so unmoveable, but his head is a wrecking ball. He thinks of ways to destroy not only himself but all those around him. A part of him thinks the Capulets are to blame for the ruination of his family and their name — exceedingly childish, for sure — but he wonders what it would be like to see them crumble, perhaps making a martyr of himself in the process. The one flaw to this is that he does not want to die. For what use was him surviving this long if it comes not to a head ? He needs to make a mark. He needs to be known not just by a few Capulets and other Veronesi — but by everyone. He wants parents to shiver when their babes utter his name. He wants his name in history books, imprinted on pages that will survive longer than their maker.

1. Destruction has followed Piero. At first, it was only others, starting with children who crossed him, and then it turned to the enemies of his family. He did well when it was his hand casting the stone. And then, it turned on him. His family’s empire turned from masterpiece to rubble. Another turn took and his family was whittled down to one. The idea of erupting and destroying who he thinks hurt him ? Somewhat appealing. But he can’t do it. He wants more. He’s hungry to become bigger than he is. I want him to find a way to do it ( and while he’d consider acting Brutus within the Capulets, his own pride and ambition would be champ at the bit, rendering him unable ) or at least consider his options. He’s restless as part of the Capulets. He feels like they are keeping him down, not letting him be enough.

4. I Don’t Have a Fancy Title for This One I’m Sorry: When it comes to Tiberius, Piero wants to impress him, to prove him right, that sparing him was the right choice. But at the same time, bitterness remains and finds itself seeping into his blood, the feeling intensifying, every time Piero finds himself being held back by the scruff. With his … befriending ( that isn’t the right word, and it doesn’t convey what I want to say ? Admiring ? Infatuation — not romantically, of course ) of Vivianne, he wonders if impressing her over Tiberius is the way to go. He considers ignoring Tiberius, going off on his own and making his own choices. Maybe that’s what he needs to do to shake off the status of initiate, to become a soldier.

1. tl;dr: Eventually, if Tiberius doesn’t let Piero have a little more responsibility and things to do, he’ll find someone else who will grant him that.

Current State of Being

→ Piero is trying to stay in line, keep quiet, and do what’s asked of him. But he’s antsy and he’s simmering. There’s so much he has to say ; he’s so not used to being at the bottom of the pecking order. It’s not going to last. He’s got a lot to say, he wants to do things. Sooner or later, he’s going to stop waiting for permission ( and, in turn, he’ll beg for forgiveness if need-be )

Character Goals

→ Have Piero use his voice. He stops listening to the jeers and taunts of everyone who thinks they know all there is to know about them, and he tells them off. He’s no longer silent and maybe people will look at him in a different light. Or maybe he gets in trouble. Either way would further. I’m leaning towards having him react and get angry, raising his voice in a way he shouldn’t.

→ His true nature shows. Wicked is as wicked does. He gets comfortable in Verona. He acts on instinct, he lashes out. Maybe someone gets hurt — maybe it’s him, maybe not. He starts to abuse his ability to talk to people, twisting words and twisting hearts and feelings. Manipulation is in his blood. He acts out, he steps out of line and does something for people to see him as more than just a little initiate in the Capulet’s gang.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |

Don’t kill baby jk do it i dare you

IN DEPTH

( i’m replying to some of the questions & i did a para sample )

What is your favorite place in Verona?

He gets lost more often than he’d like. He wanders down streets he’s never gone down and through alleys with unknown endings. A part of him would be delighted if it wasn’t overtaken by the idea that he needed to know these streets better than he did. There was no time to be idle, no time to do anything with purpose. Most of the Capulets, surely the Montagues, knew this city like the back of their hands.

He wanted to know it better than they did, better than those naturally Verona-born. It was more than a want, it was a need that burned within him.

Still, the streets were beautiful.

It was different than home, than Spain. There, his family had resided just outside one of its largest city. From his room, he could hear the sounds of cars whizzing by on nearby highways. If he didn’t close the curtains, he would be bombarded with the lights of the city, no stars to be seen.

Here, despite its age and all of its magnitudes, Verona seemed infinitely smaller to him. He was refusing to allow himself to like it, to find a home.

It’s a long time before he finally answers the question, and his response can hardly be considered an answer. He only gives a shrug of his shoulders, absent, vague, and his gaze turns towards the window. His eyes are dead and shark-like as people pass by.

That’s not an answer, Piero.

He sighs, a loud and exasperated sound. There’s another pause on his part, this one longer and emphasized by his ability to not look at the asker once. This person — the soldato — means nothing to him. He’s sure they’ve already passed their prime. They’re as likely to ascend further as he is to fall flat — which is to say unlikely. And because of this, he cares little for them. He waits to say something poised and clever until perfect ears are listening.

Finally, there comes an answer, the barest bones of respect he’ll give, one with a little more substance to it. That doesn’t mean his voice has an affect that is more than flat. It doesn’t mean he seems to care. “ There’s a little flower shop that I can see from the window of my flat. I’ve never — “ his nose wrinkles at the thought “ — I’ve never bought anything from it, but it reminds me of when I was living another life. ”

It reminds him of the day his parents died and he was left standing alone to face their destruction, his shoes sticking to the hardwood floors as blood dried on their soles.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“ Ambition is my folly. ”

It’s said lightly, airily, as if it doesn’t matter. Look closer, see how the muscle clenches in his cheek, how there’s a sparkle momentarily flashing in his eyes before it fades to dullness. He wants to do something that has weight ( — like the heft of a gun in his hand, the feeling of his body atop another’s as his fists bear down ) and yet he is relegated to simple tasks only. He feels like a page, or perhaps worse, a pawn, unimportant and oh-so-easily replaceable.

Maybe his mistake has been living.

It shouldn’t seem like that.

But he hates being an underling. He hates being told what to do and when to do it. His life is now dictated by another, not even a Ruiz. When it was his parents instructing him, it felt different, less like someone was making all of his choices for him and more like — more like he mattered ? There is no need to convince himself that he did matter to his parents — he was next in line, preened and primed, being readied to take the throne his family had been sitting on for generations — because he knows it’s true. Here ? One wrong move can cost everything.

Perhaps he should have allowed himself to have been martyred, killed in cold blood despite fighting to prevent it. He would have been the last of the Ruizes ; they’d have been remembered for not going down easily. Now ? He thinks a wrong glance cast could mean his throat will be slit.

You don’t seem so ambitious to me.

He supposes most won't have seen it. Tiberius knows — Tiberius has heard him ask over and over for something to do, something bigger and better, with meaning, and so has Vivianne, he would be remiss to forget her — but everyone else ? He doesn’t suppose it’s important enough information for his sponsor to pass along that he wants to do more, so he rationalizes that most think he’s just a good little soldier-to-be, keeping his head down and toes in line. It’s not time for people to fear him, not just yet. That time will come.

“ Then maybe my biggest mistake was that lie. ”

Para Sample

He has been being followed for sometime now. It is always a shadow in the periphery of his vision, disappearing when he turns to see, a jacket billowing behind someone who had just walked out of frame. Piero wonders if this should make him nervous. He’s considered it, the idea that someone must want him dead to end the Ruiz family once and for all. They came for his parents, now it’s his turn. It’s a horrifying thought at first light, but there is something dangerously satisfying to him within it, at the idea of someone considering him that necessary to end. Perhaps it’s dark and twisted, but not all boys born to wear a crown come out golden.

Nearly a week passes, and by now he’s on edge. Every knock on the door of the shitty motel he’s staying in, every blow of wind against the glass windows, sets him on edge. There are purple circles under his eyes, dark as can be. He hasn’t been sleeping well. He tosses and turns, his deepest worries allowed to fester and grow in unguarded dreams, until he wakes unrested. He can’t go on like this much longer. He’s wondered if it’s worth it to flee Spain, to call on distant relatives, begging on bent knees for salvation and charity. His own pride sets him straight. Cowardice is not an option. Ruiz blood has reigned over Spain for generations. He will not be the one to bring that to an end, bringing shame to his name and the memory of his parents.

It’s just past three in the morning when he hears the turn of the doorknob. He sits up straight in the rickety armchair in the corner, his eyes adjusting to the darkened room, and he stares and he waits. He considers running. There’s a window in the bathroom, already open. He’s slender enough to squeeze through it if he really wants to, he’s given thought to it already — the doorknob rattles again, a thump echoes through the room as something hits the wood of the door — but he thinks to himself he doesn’t have the time. If he tries it, he’ll be caught halfway out. He cannot flee if it will lead inevitably to his demise. It’s embarrassing and shameful and wouldn’t do. Even in the face  of death, Piero is as proud as ever.

The moments before the door cracks open, broken by the weight of another’s body, seem to last forever. He thinks of himself. He thinks of all the things he has yet to do. He thinks about his parents, their dreams and expectations for him. This becomes painfully clear: he cannot die without a fight. This is his moment. No matter the outcome, someone will remember the Ruizes. They were once noble and strong, but they didn’t allow their fire to go out so easily. It’s all he can do.

The door breaks, and he’s on his feet finally. The room is still dark but he can see motion in the darkness. He will let his attacker come to him. To tire himself out, to make all motion, seems like it’d be a mistake. Though he’s expecting it, the first hit knocks all of the air out of his lungs. Another hit lands, then another. Finally, something snaps within him. Elbows in, chin down. That’s what his mother taught him. He’s wild and frenzied, suddenly hits aren’t met with pause, and he begins throwing blow after blow, some hitting, some not. He’s all in. There is no hesitation, not anymore. It’s become apparent, right then, after this week of waiting, that perhaps another motivation is a fear of death.

It’s not an unreasonable thing. He is barely nineteen, hardly an adult, barely lived. He thinks there is so much more for him to do, to see and to experience. In his head, his mantra becomes I will not die today. Over and over, he says it to himself, despite blows hitting his body, his own strikes meeting their targets, muscles pounding against flesh.

Thoughts continue to rush through his mind. Why is he fighting ? For his parents. Why does he need to ? They’re dead. There are tears welled up in his eyes, out of pain and anger and grief. They shouldn’t be dead. They should be here. He shouldn’t be fighting. A choke sob escapes through swelling lips, but he doesn’t let himself falter. This is life or death, and he is doing everything he can to choose life.

His mouth tastes of iron and salt, but it isn’t from his own body. A fist met his lips, teeth scraped against gentle flesh, and Piero had drawn first blood. Though there were bruises forming on his own body already, though his muscles ache and scream, there is something satisfying about that. All he can do is manage to stay standing, quick on his feet, landing in jabs where he can.

The sounds in the room are heavy breathing and the noise of flesh hitting flesh. He wonders if the neighbors have been disturbed. He wonders if they care.

He isn’t sure how long has passed. He isn’t sure how much longer he can last. This fight, this rush of adrenaline coursing through him, it’s all new. Before this, it had always been fights that ended when someone hit the ground or time was up. Never had stakes been so high. A part of him is screaming for it to stop ; another wonders why this is only the first time. There’s something fulfilling in it, and maybe that’s monstrous, but Piero thinks that maybe he was born to be brutal and bloodthirsty. For so long, he had been charming and a pseudo-intellectual, clever and cunning. There had been merit to that, yes, but this ? Every fist that connects with skin sends a rush through him, a thrill like never before.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when the man takes a step back from him, a thrown swing causing him to fall off balance. For a second, his heart leaps to his throat and he thinks this is it. But the man doesn’t take the misstep as an opportunity. Instead, he’s looking at him, interest crossing his features. Piero doesn’t let his fists fall to his side, he doesn’t know why the man has stopped, and he is too in the moment to care. He takes the chance the man doesn’t and swings, his fist meeting the man’s jaw. It lands with a satisfying thwack, but again the man doesn’t retaliate.

“ That’s enough. ”

Piero can’t help but flinch under the tone of resolve and authority, but when he looks up again, the man is still staring at him. No, he is studying. Piero can’t fathom what he can be looking for or why their fight has stopped. His body is screaming, surely if he wakes tomorrow the pain will have increased tenfold, and his most basic reaction is still fight, fight, fight.

He’s winding up his fist again but again the man speaks. “ I said, enough. ”

Piero knows when words spoken are no longer suggestions — when instead they become commands. His fists fall, his shoulders do, too. His expression turns petulant, childlike in its quick and open displeasure.

He is silent, waiting — for what ? He wonders briefly. It could be death and damnation that awaits him. A part of him, however, thinks differently. He has never been idyllic, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses with glee and a grin, but something inside him is waiting not for death’s hand to grip him.

Instead, he waits. Blood is rushing through his ears still, his pulse is throbbing. Finally, finally —

“ Sit down, boy. Let’s talk. ”

Extras:

FAST FACTS

( i looked up spanish naming customs for this and i might have gotten it right but i might not have i need to do more reading to be 100% sure but i still wanted to include it )

→ Full Name: Piero Ruiz Lorca

→ Mother: Marcella Blanca Lorca de Ruiz

→ Father: Piero Ruiz Zapatero

→ Siblings: None

→ Birthday: July 12th ; this makes him a Cancer

→ Hometown: Cordoba, Spain

→ Dominant Character Traits: harsh, ambitious, bloodthirsty, rash, driven,  

HEADCANONS

001. For generations now, men wore the name Piero, his grandfather the third, Piero the fifth. There were expectations to meet, legacies to exceed. Live up to your namesake. Piero’s father was speaking of his own father at the time and, while this weight of that bore heavily down, the young boy could only think of becoming instead like his father. His grandfather died before memories of him solidified in a young child’s head, and so he only knew of him through tales and rumors. For his father, though, he watched as all stood when he walked into a room, his presence commanding respect, his reputation demanding it. While his hands were stained bloodied red, he was a beacon of light that people looked to, he captured attention easily. Once he understood, Piero craved that same state of existence. The children he grew up around, he had their attention, but in a different way. They whispered about him when his back was turned, they ducked their heads and left the room once he entered. It was a shame, really, but he was sure he would grow into his father’s shoes, filling the role the elder Ruiz did easily. For some time, he believed he was doing exactly that. And then, his parents were slaughtered, and the role he had to fill was that of a ghost. Now that he is human once more, as part of the Capulets and their crew, he feels like he once did as a child, unliked and not very seen. It’s digging at him, shoving splinters under already broken nails, causing him to grit his teeth and try a thousand times harder to earn a little bit of the damned respect he so desperately craves. It’s one of the few things that his father told him to do, this living up to his namesake. His father might be dead, rotting in the ground, with most of his words forgotten to time and space, but his spectral voice lives on in Piero’s head.

002. I have this image of Piero, maybe no older than fifteen, sixteen, at a table surrounded by compatriots of his parents. An older man, in his fifties, or perhaps, his sixties, is chewing tobacco. It’s disgusting. His gums are coated in black spit and when he smiles there are specks on his teeth. Piero cannot hide his disdain. But he’s chewing something, too. With all of his egotism, his thoughts that he is better than those before, he’s found a better option. Mint. It’s fresh and better and — the adults around him, most find him insufferable. For good reason. Anyway, it’s stupid and dumb, but god, I imagine it’s a habit he hasn’t broken. It also means mojitos are his favorite cocktail. No, I won’t elaborate on this or give any good reason for it besides please, I want it, and it’s just youthful arrogance, you know ? Before Verona, before his parents died, I feel like he had just come into himself — he felt sure and he was certain that life was grand. Era una vida tan buena. He was cocky and a little … I don’t know. Smarmy ? That’s not quite the word I want, but god, Piero was living each day as it came. Nothing could faze him. He lived under the shield of his parents and their name, of his own youth. There was privilege in that. He had seen the taste of power and luxe that his parents’ world — the one he was set to inherit once he was of age — and it delighted him. He revelled in it. He wouldn’t have to unlearn his innate cruelties, his hubris. He was a prince set to ascend, his crown was never askew.

003. As a child, he was raised not only to be smart, wisened by words of the experiences and the words in books, but to be cultured as well. His mother took him to parties with him on her arm, where his smiles never quite reached his eyes under the coos and remarks of her friends. He talked when spoken to, he never raised his voice. He could be charming when he needed to be, grins and chubby-cheeked, with words uttered that they desperately wanted to hear. He never enjoyed them, especially not when his parents would slip away into back rooms to have their own meetings. He would wait resting under the doorknob, eyes desperately seeking for some revelation under the door’s crack, ears yearning for words through the keyhole. The door would open at midnight, if not later, and he would fall into the room because of how he’d been leaning against the door. On the rainiest of days with no other plans, they would find themselves lost in museums all over the continent ( they had money, and while they didn’t quite flaunt it, they didn’t have qualms about traveling ). Beautiful things never caught his eye. They were nice, sure; but they were idle and dull and fleeting in his mind. Were his mother not guiding him ( in another life, one without bloodlust and bloodshed, she would have been a curator — a stunning one, establishing beautiful collections that many would travel to. alas, this is not our story ), he would have been lost in statues of gore, in paintings of wars and hatred. There was something about them that caught his attention and never let go. Is there beauty in being brutal ? Piero would say so.

004. The Ruiz home was decorated with exorbitant quantities of flowers while Piero lived there with his parents — why wouldn’t it be that way ? Their front for their operations was a massive floral establishment, it was only fitting for their home to be decorated accordingly. As a child, he loved their scent filling the halls and rooms — roses and lilies and all sorts of magnificent blooms. They were pretty and they weren’t long-lasting, but they were always something that represented his family, and he would be remiss to say a part of him wasn’t fond of them. However, from the day his parents died, all he can remember besides their shouts in frantic Spanish is the scent of blood and flowers. Now, any breath of anything floral makes him gag. It’s unfortunate.

005. The first time he held a gun — the first time he did so with meaning, it loaded, intended to be used against another — he was fourteen. He followed behind his mother, into a meeting with a man who owed the Capulets money. She knew he was unlikely to run or cause a fuss ( he had pride and character, his mother told him, and though he had wronged them, only a coward would have fled or refused his fate ) and thought it perfect for Piero’s first attendance. He stood behind his mother, just beside her shoulder, and listened as she talked. He stood on the balls of his feet, eager and ready for his chance to do something — anything. It never came, much to his disappointment. His mother said everything she needed to. She demanded payment. The man refused, citing he couldn’t. His mother nodded, then she fired one shot into the middle of his head. They left quickly after that, someone would be coming to clean up the mess, and the weight of Piero’s gun felt heavy in his hands having gone unfired.

006. He has nightmares. Nobody knows — he refuses to tell anyone for fear of it being seen as weakness or a vulnerability — but surviving two assassination attempts ? It should come as no surprise that it’s affected his psyche. But there are nights, more often than he’d like, that he wakes up, thrashing, sweat-coated legs and arms tangled up in bedsheets, and his heart is beating in frantic panic. It takes a moment for Piero to realize that his life is in no danger ( at least, not at that specific point in time ) and then he lets his head fall back to the pillow. The days after, he finds himself more on edge than normal, dark-circled eyes narrowed and angry.

PINTEREST BOARD

Rambly Bits That Didn’t Fit Anywhere Nicely But Still Provide Notion Of Character And I Didn’t Want To Delete Permanently For Fear Of Regretting That Decision Later

2. His parents were not good people. They never had hope of cleaning the blood off of their hands and fingers, but they never had desire to burn them clean. At his birth, he was blessed by aunts and uncles in hopes he’d have a fraction of his parents’ abilities — their cruelty, their decisiveness, their skill with gun and blade. He grew up in a home that never knew weak submission ; it was eat or be eaten, and he learned that quickly. He watched friends of his parents cry for mercy after failures — ones he didn’t understand in the moment, not until years later, when he crept downstairs in the midnight hours to watch their meetings through stair railings — and he watched as they were met with slaps to cheeks and sometimes worse. He was too young to understand the permanence of death, but he understood that a hole in a man’s temple meant he was never getting up. He saw the cool poise his father wore as he held a smoking gun — he imagined himself, older, in the same position. He echoed the steely edges his parents’ voices took ; he repeated the words they said that meant nothing to him until his cadence and tone matched theirs.

3. His parents praised him while he was in school when teachers and tutors reported that he was harsh in the face of sadness or whining and unable to handle the wrong answers of others.  It only worsened ( bettered ? ) as he grew older. His harshness seemed less precocious and began to unsettle others. Tutors and teachers began to dislike being in the same room as him. He wore a smile that said let me do as I please and his temper echoed I mean it. He asked them questions about things they didn’t know, baiting them with their insufficiencies until they had no other option but to quit. His parents would only hire someone new with no question. No one was spared. He asked personal and probing questions until they shifted in their seats. He was like a needle under their skin, sharp and uncomfortable.  )

4. Being a part of something bigger than himself. Isn’t that what a king does — or in Piero’s case, a princeling ? They are a large part of their kingdom, surely, and, though they might be its head, it cannot exist without its body. There needs to be support. When he was young, being a god amongst the other children wasn’t enough. He wanted something more. He wanted to be something more. He knew his parents did something that made them special, and their dis-including him ( for whatever reason it could be, he wondered night after night, staring up at the stucco ceiling, sleepless and agonizing ) just wouldn’t work for him. He needed to be involved, he needed to know. His knowing parts of their secrets, the whispers he overhead, was enough to build up his patience until it came to know more.

5. He has his eyes set on the crown his family once wore ; he was born and bred into a vicious line.

6. It’s a game of chess. Where once he was perhaps a knight or a bishop aside his parents’ queenhood, someone who could advise and assist, he feels now hardly more than a pawn. There are others in charge and he acts in their stead to do their bidding. He knows it’s what he must do. He must build his power back up, but gods above, the wait is agonizing. He wants to feel the rush of adrenaline that power brings surge through him again. He wants to make his own choices and decisions.

7. His peers had it worse. Unlike teachers whose authority he undermined, he knew he was better and above his cohort — a king amongst sheep. He ruled conversations even when no word slipped from his mouth. They needed to entertain him or he’d find another way to spend his time. ( A brief interlude: his “ friends ” didn’t like him but were scared of telling him no — also, they were most likely the children of his parents’ friends and associates, so there was need to make good with Piero. ) He’d pit them against each other with lies and rumors he’d overheard or made up. It was interesting to see them scramble, like ants under a magnifying glass. So long as he was amused, where was the harm ?

[picassho-18]

And They Were Roommates

Summary: (Eddie Brock x Ace!Fem!Reader) When an ace girl moves in with Eddie Brock, who knows what will ensue. 

Warnings: asexuality discussions, hurtful comments towards LGBT community, fight scenes, cheating references, angst, but honestly its just a really soft fic so fluff

Word Count: 8727

A/N: I have come back from the writing hiatus! I am here so please please pleeeease enjoy this fic that has taken weeks for me to write. It is my little baby that I have poured my heart and soul into. Please please leave feedback!!!

You were desperate. Not desperate for love, or dick. But actually pretty desperate for a place to live in. It had been weeks of you searching for a cheaper place, due to you flatmate having give you an ultimatum, which was pay more than half or leave. You said fuck that and that caused you to be at the front door of an apartment, knocking on it to ask the tenant about the extra room they were advertising.

When a young man opened the door, you were slightly shocked by the messy sight. He had a plain t shirt on but could see patches of sweat, and his hair was ruffled along with his eyes almost swollen shut from lack of sleep.

Of balanced by the sight, you stuttered, “Was this huh, the place offering the extra room to be rented out?”

He cleared his throat, trying to tame his hair, and giving his eyes a little rub. “Huh, oh yeah, this is it. You want to rent it out?”

“Yeah… uh. Is there like any requirements or like rules or anything?”

“No.” he said simply, his eyes staring into yours.

“Well, um…” slightly confused by the situation, “Would you maybe give me the tour so I could decide?”

As if realizing how weird he was acting, he stuck his hand out, “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Name’s Eddie Brock and I can most definitely give you a tour.”

Shaking his hand, you smiled, “Thank you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He led you into his flat, and while you peered around, he tried to clean up some trash scattered around.

“I uh, yeah sorry about the mess. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Me and my, huh, fiance just broke up.” he said, clearing his throat while rushedly throwing some dirty dishes in the sink.

“Oof.” you said, grimincing slightly, before giving him a reassuring smile. “Everyone has some shitty weeks right? Which bedroom would be mine?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. I’ll show you.” He wiped his hands on his shirt, before walking down the short hallway.

Gesturing the the first door, “This is my room and,” pointing to the door across from it, “this is the only bathroom.”

“Only one?” you asked, “Well, if I end up moving in, let's not sneak peeks of each other ‘kay?” you joked about.

Eddie let out a loud laugh, and if you were being honest with yourself, it was a really cute laugh, like an actual giggle. He continued, “Sounds good to me” before leading you to the third and final door. “This would be your room” opening it and letting you walk in.

It was plain, and of decent size. A window let sunlight in, and a bed along with a small table was the only furniture, but when you saw the closet size it wasn’t too worrisome. Looking around the room, you nodded to yourself, imaging what it would look with you things in it.

Looking out the window, you asked again, “You had no requirements?”

“Nope, just that you would pay rent on time.”

Turning towards him, with a big smile, excitedly “ Then I think I’ll take it”

*****

A couple days later, you had spent the afternoon moving into the apartment completely, and settled in. Eddie had to help you move the mattress into the room. And that was quite the hassle.

With you on one end and Eddie on the other, you two held it upright, and tried to maneuver it through the skinny hallways. Around a tight corner, you shouted at Eddie to stop, but he couldn’t hear you due to the mattress falling against your face, muffling the sound, and pushed you further back hitting the side table that had a glass vase on it, the very reason you told him to stop. In the corner of your eye you saw the vase wobble slightly, you letting out a muffled ‘no!’ before it tilted to the side, falling and shattering on the floor.

At the sudden sound Eddie stopped pushing, and let out a little ‘oh shit’. He peeked his head around his side of the mattress and saw the position you were in, mattress in your face, your hair a mess, and legs all crooked trying to keep the mattress up and balanced.

With a loss of focus, the mattress slipped from your tired hands falling down, causing you to tumble forward. You splayed out on the floor, falling on top of the mattress that now laid flat on the floor due to Eddie dropping it as well. After resting with you face on the floor for a second, you sheepishly looked up to see Eddie, hands on his knees from laughing so hard he had to gasp for breathes. You grumbled at his laughter, but slowly started to giggle along with him. The two of you quickly evolved into cackling laughter, both lost in the moment, forgetting the mattress and the broken vase on the floor.

After the two of you were out of breath, he held out his hand, and you took it, helping yourself up from the floor. Wiping a tear from his eye, he giggled, “Fuck, I haven’t laughed like this in what seems like forever.” His face fell slightly at his own words, memories obviously going through his head.

You lost your smile when you realized it must have been because of the break up he recently went through, so trying to lighten the mood you joked, “Well with me in the apartment, expect more laughs because I’m a totally klutz!”

He nodded, a smile on his face again, “Yeah I can see that!” gesturing to the glass shards on the floor.

Looking at them, you felt your cheeks heat up, “Yeah, about that, I’m really sorry…”

“It’s okay. They only held my Grandmother’s ashes.”

“WHAT?” you let out, shocked, whipping your face towards his, “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” covering your mouth in horror at what you did.

Eddie started to laugh at your expression before getting out, “No no, I’m only screwing with you, it was only a lousy gift I got”

“Oh you fucking asshole!” you laughed, punching in playfully in the arm.

He shook his head , grinning smugly, “You are gonna be a great flatmate. Not only are you a klutz, you’re gullible. Perfect for pranks” he winked, already thinking up some plans

“Oh goodness, this isn’t gonna be good, is it?” you asked, though your heart sped up excitedly slightly at the idea of a prank war.

He giggled, man you loved his giggle, “I’m just joking, don’t worry.” winking, but continued “Or am I?”

That resulted in you pushing him lightly, shaking your head at his antics, “Let’s just get this mattress in my room, so I can calm down from the heart attack you gave me about your possible grandmother’s fucking ashes.” but a smile graced your face,

*****

After the mattress was in place and you had settled completely into the room, Eddie offered the idea of having dinner together to learn more about each other.

With two big plates of spaghetti in front of you both, he had explained the disaster of his last month, how he lost the love of his life, and how he lost all credibility along with his job.

Hearing it all, you had patted his shoulder reassuringly, “Yeah, that sucks dude. Everybody's gotta have their tragic love story.”

“If everyone’s got one, what’s yours?” he pondered, cocking his head.

“Well, um…” you thought about what you’d say then continued, “I was in a relationship for a long time. I’m a big romantic, and I honestly thought he was the love of my life, but um… Well we were getting more serious but I wouldn’t put out. The thing is I’m asexual, I don’t enjoy or even like the idea of sex.” you paused looking up to see if he was disgusted or at least confused, when he just nodded, signaling for you to continue, showing his understanding, you calmed down, and continued.

“After explaining to him how I felt, he tried to hid his disgust and move on. It didn’t really work, and he kept trying to convince me asexuality wasn’t real. We fought a lot after that, and he even cheated on me at one point. Well thinking back on it, it was probably more then once, couldn’t keep his dick in his pants apparently. But yeah, it ended badly. But uh, I’m fine!” you tried to smiled, showing you had moved on, but it was difficult.

“That’s awful.” Eddie grumbled, shaking his head in anger. “I’m sorry that asshole put you through that.”

“Well like I said, everyone has their stories.” shrugging your shoulders.

After having such a light hearted mood with moving the mattress to this depressing sideshow of a dinner, you cleared your throat, “Welp, let’s both move on and not give them a second though, eh? This is getting fucking depressing.”

“Ha, well you know what would help?” you cocked a head at his question, but when he had gotten up and pulled two pints of ice cream from the freezer, a huge grin spread on your face.

“Ice cream!” you let out excitedly, when he handed you a spoon and a container.

He lifted his pint up, “To not being ‘fucking depressing’ anymore”

You lifted yours, clinking your pint to his, “To not being ‘fucking depressing’ anymore”

For the rest of the night, only ice cream and laughs were shared.

*****

A couple of days later, walking out of your room, early in the morning, you saw Eddie for only a second, as be was dashing out the door, muffin in his mouth as he mumbled around his food that he was going job searching. You waved at him wishing him good luck before the door slammed and you could hear he stumbling down the hallway.

After making breakfast for yourself, you situated on designing the mural you had been hired to do. The city of San Francisco had hired you for multiple projects, mostly adding murals to parks and such, but currently you were designing a new city logo that would be plastered over a big empty wall on the side of City Hall.

Hours into the sketching and research, Eddie blasted through the door, startling you and almost causing you to spill the mug cradled between your hands.

At your shocked expression he muttered an apology before storming past you and walked into his room slamming the door shut.

Well that was odd, job searching must not have gone well

After some internal debate, you got up and knocked softly on the door.

“Eddie, you okay in there?”

Through the door you heard a huff, before footsteps approached. Eddie opened the door, eyes casted downward, his shoulders slumped. With a sigh, he mumbled, “It's been a really long day.”

You smiled up to him sympathetically, “Well my dude, you're in luck because I was just about to make my second batch of hot cocoa and I might just make you a mug if I see a smile from you”

He smiled weakly, trying his best to give you a sarcastic grin, and you nodded, approving his effort.

“Well Eddie, that was one shitty smile but as you said it was an extremely bad day, I'll make you a mug.”

Leading him into the kitchen he slouched down in a chair at the counter watching as you gathered the ingredients. When you started to pull out real chocolate among other things, he looked at you, prompting an explanation.

“I have a very special hot cocoa recipe. I don't deal with that package fuckery. I make the homemade real shit.”

He giggled a little at that, but cocked an eyebrow when he saw you pouring coffee creamer into your mug.

“What?” You shrugged, “I like a lot of sugar! Do you want some?” Handing him his mug and offering the creamer.

“No, no thanks” waving it off. “Hot chocolate is sweet enough on its own for me.”

As you sat down next to him, you both took a couple sips from your mugs.

Side eyeing him, you saw how he was slumped forward, chin resting on his hands. Man he looked awfully sad, yet somehow extremely handsome. His eyes held a certain look that was quite noticeable.

Shaking off the thoughts, you asked, “So, wanna talk about today?”

“Not really” but you gave him a second, waiting to see if he would continue. And he did, “Actually today wasn't just bad. Today was fucking awful.”

You nodded, encouraging him along. You were always a strong believer in talking with others. Liked to think of yourself as a good listener to those in need.

“I saw her today.” He sipped his mug, his eyes deep in thought. “I was networking. Trying to find someone who would hire me despite my history. I saw her walking down the street. And like the idiot I am, I tried talking to her. She wanted nothing to do with me.” He rested his head against the counter in defeat.

You rubbed his back, showing your support. After a while of you humming as you slowly moved your fingers across his broad back, he sat up again, smiling at you with his tired eyes.

“Thank you for this. I haven't really had anyone to talk about these things with.”

You pat his shoulder, before taking your last sip of cocoa “Gotta be sad every once in a while. Plus, what are roommates for?”

*****

After getting home from a long day of painting you saw Eddie slumped over at the kitchen table, looking at a newspaper gloomily.

With a big smile on your face, you yelled out “Hey Eddie!”

He looked up at you, grimacing when he saw how excited you were. “What's got you so chiper?”

“Oh I don't know…” Twirling your hair, “maybe it's the fact that I just got myself a date tonight!”

“Ahh, well at least one of us is gonna get some tonight. Oh wait, nevermind, none of us are getting anything still” he giggled a little at his joke, causing your smile to grow a bit better. “Well dove, have fun, and stay safe”

“Thanks Eddie! And maybe I could try to set you up with someone, yeah? Help you move on?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he waved you off, “Go and get ready”

Rushing into the bathroom, looked at your face, flinching when you realized how much paint you had managed to get on your face and in your hair. And realizing Eddie just saw the mess you were. Quickly you got in the shower, getting all the paint off. In your towel you walked across the hall to your room, looking to see if Eddie was still at the table. He was, and now he didn't even have his eyes open. He'd fallen asleep.

So much for job hunting through the newspaper

Somehow, you pulled together an outfit fit enough for the date, and ran back to the bathroom to throw on some makeup. You squealed a little but when you saw the wet mess that was your hair, and felt your hair skip a beat when you saw that you were running out of time.

“Eddie!” You called out, hoping it would wake him up. “Can you do hair?!”

Groggily, he rubbed his eyes, appearing in the doorframe. “I can try”

His eyes lit up slightly when he saw your outfit, “Nice choice” he said, nodding in approval at the black high heels you had on.

His hands when to your hair, his fingers sliding through to your scalp to ruffle up the wet strands. And if you were being honest with yourself, his hands felt amazing. You tried not to hum in happiness at the feeling as he looked in the mirror trying to decide what to do.

“How much time do you have left?” He asked, contemplation written all over his face.

Sheepishly, you muttered “10 minutes…”

“10 minutes?! Well fuck… okay then let's do the impossible.”

You smiled up to him as he pulled out a blow dryer and a brush and getting started on your hair.

Every now and then, you would glance up and try to peek at what he was doing. He'd reprimand you, saying it wasn't done,  but once you caught sight of him with bobby pins in between his lips, his eyes deep in concentration, staring at your hair. It drew your attention to his plump lips and you couldn't help but admire how soft that might just feel.

Jolting you from your thoughts, he put his hands up in victory, “Finished! You can look now”

Looking up, you saw he out it in an elegant bun, braided woven into it.

Turning around, you quickly hugged Eddie, “Thank you! You're such a life saver!” He hugged you back, his strong arms wrapping around your back, before you dashed away to grab your purse.

“Bye Eddie! Thanks again, see ya tonight!”

He smiled at you one last time as you ran out the door, before you closed it he called out “Use protection!”

You let out a laugh, peeking your head behind the door, “My aceness is my protection” sending him a wink before shutting the door.

*****

Hours later, you unlocked the door to the apartment. Quietly, you tried to open it without making any noise. As stealthily as you could, you managed to get to the kitchen. Letting out a sigh you

Let your purse drop on the counter, pouring yourself a glass of wine and collapsing on the couch.

Groaning, you thought about the past few hours, dropping your head to rest on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

From the hallway, Eddie cleared his throat, leaning against the frame, with his arms crossed.

“Didn’t go well?”

You glanced at him before looking back up at the ceiling. “Yeah, not so good.”

He shuffled to the recliner, before prompting you to continue, “What happened? You were so excited”

“It just… I wouldn’t… we didn’t click.” you muttered.

Eddie just nodded, but wouldn’t let himself think about his relief at your statement. He hummed, thinking of what he could do, then an idea popped in his head.

“Oh, I know what we’re gonna do!”

At his excited tone, you looked at him, watching as he got up and fiddled with the TV, grabbing the remote and turning on Netflix.

Cocking your head, you asked, “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie said, smirking slightly.

“Then why did yo-” you were interrupted when Eddie dropped a pair of dice in your hand. “Huh? What are these for?”

He plopped down on the couch next to you, throwing an arm behind you, resting on the couch, “Roll the dice.”

“Why?”

“Just do it” He chuckled as you rolled them on the coffee table, rolling a 2 and a 6.

You looked at him, confusion still written on your face, “Well weirdo, I rolled a 2 and 6.”

He hummed, before grabbing the remote and getting on the main Netflix. “Just watch” he said simple, as he clicked down twice, then clicked to the left six times, landing on T.V show, “Now we have a show to watch.”

“Ha” you giggled, “All that to pick a show?”

“Well, I have found that people can’t make decisions to save their lives. Hence the dice roll.”

Nodding, you grinned, “I think I like it.”

“Good” he grinned back, settling further into the couch, sliding slightly closer to you. You could feel his warmth radiating from his body, and subconsciously scooted closer to him, tugging up your legs.

“Well let’s get this shit started” you said, as he clicked the play button.

*****

The weekend hit, both you and Eddie heading out for a long day at work. You had a new commission through a nearby city, and Eddie was starting his first day at his new job. Before work you always made yourself a big travel mug of hot chocolate, but seeing how frantic Eddie was, running around getting ready, you decided to pour him one as well.

With a grin, you wrote down on a sticky note a small corny joke saying “Why did the elephant step on the marshmallow? Because he didn’t want to fall in the hot cocoa!” along with a little doodle of an happy elephant, and stuck it on the top, before leaving the apartment, yelling goodbye to Eddie.

It left a smile on your face for the next hour, wondering if he liked it. And boy, did he have the biggest grin plastered on his face when he saw the note. He folded it carefully, slipping it into his wallet before chugging a few mouthfuls of cocoa, smiling wide at the taste, and dashing out the door to start his day as well.

Both of your days flew by, thoughts of being able to go home and relax giving you energy to finish the day. With a huff, you unlocked the door to the apartment, stumbling in, covered in splatters of paint, your hair a mess. Eddie looked up from the kitchen, and snorted when he saw you.

“Good God woman! You are an absolute mess” he snickered, pouring a second mug of coffee for you. Dropping your bags at the door, you walked over to him. “Ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically, “but at least I’m a sexy mess” you joked, before grabbing the mug from him a take a long sip.

At your words, he shuffled slightly, clearing his throat, as hints of pink warmed his cheeks. Shaking it off, you ignored his odd behavior, thanking him for the mug.

He smiled, “Of course. Plus I loved the little note this morning.”

Looking down at your hands, you grinned, “Well, I like to doodle. And I like to make people happy. Sometimes I try to do it at the same time, so expect more from me.” you winked at him.

He grinned back to you, his eyes twinkling, “I’m looking forward to it.”

You looked a little too long into his eyes, held by the brightness of them, and probably having a dopey looking smile on your face, before clearing your throat and looking away.

“Oh!” he said, remembering something, “I had this idea, what if we did a Sunday breakfast tradition? I don’t work Sundays, and I know you usually take them off so I was thinking what if we did made breakfast together every Sunday morning.”

You looked at him in surprise before answering, “That sounds lovely. Yet another reason why you’re such a better roommate.”

“I said for you to stop calling me that!”

“Oh come on, I’m just teasing!” you defending, giggling at his grumpy face.

“Well…” he drawled out, “I would prefer you to start calling me a friend instead.”

You froze, your giggling stopped immediately, looking to see if he was just screwing with you, but when you saw sincerity in his eyes, a grin widened on your face, until it seemed like it couldn’t get any bigger.

“You wanna be bestiesssss?” you squealed out, winking at him.

“Oh forget it.” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You eyes flickered down, seeing the muscles flexing slightly. Forcing them back up to his face, you giggled at his look of annoyance.

“Well sorry Eddie, but you just got yourself a best friend!” You jumped up from the chair, and launched yourself into his arms, forcing him to hug you. After some hesitation, he eased into hugging you back, even pulling you closer by tightening his arms around you back and nestling his chin into the side of your neck. You stayed there for a second, your head leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, your arms around his neck.

He hummed, pulling away from you, “If I get hugs like that all the time, I officially declare you the best friend in the world.”

“I might not have sex, but I sure give the best fucking hugs possible.” you smirked, pulling apart.

You blew him a kiss, sending a wink his way before yawning a little, covering your mouth, “Welp, I’m caput. Gonna turn in, but I’m excited to do breakfast tomorrow!”

“Sleep tight dove.” Eddie sighed slightly, as you closed your door, his heart muddled and confused.

*****

With a start, you woke up, the light blinding washed over your face. You groaned, pulling yourself up. A shiver racked your body as you realized the temperature of the room. It was way too low for your taste, so you went into the hallway to investigate. Sleep still in your eyes, hair a crunchy mess, and a blanket wrapped tight around your arm, trailing behind you like a coat. You wandered into the main room, to see Eddie in some work clothes, and a tool belt hung low on his waist.

He hadn’t seen you yet, giving you a chance to ogle him. His dirty fingers were messing with some wires, and you realized he was trying to fix the heater in the cabinet. Bending over, his butt stuck out, and his shirt rolled up his back slightly. A tattoo slightly revealing itself. Eddie was making an awful amount of noises, grunts and curses spewing from his mouth as he remained unaware of his audience.

A smile sprung to your face, and you had to resist from giggling, as he let out a loud “fuck!”, before whispering to himself, “hey, she’s sleeping be quiet dude”

He rolled his sleeves up further before sticking his hands in the cabinet again. As his arms were trying to shift a pipe, his arms had tensed, veins popping slightly, the tattoos lining his arms moving fluidly with his movements. You admired the muscles, and while nothing could get you to have sex with him, you wanted to cuddle and kiss the living hell out of him right now.

Shaking off the trail of thought, you cleared your throat, and knocking on the wall lightly, alerting Eddie to your presence.

“Oh hey!” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans as he got up. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shook your head, “Oh no, you didn’t, but the cold did”

“Yeah…” Eddie scratched his head sheepishly, “I was trying to fix that, but I’ve almost got it, so we should expect warmth within the hour.”

Nodding, “okay, well you know, for our first Sunday breakfast, I can make it while you fix it?”

“That sounds good to me!” Eddie smiled, already excited at the idea of breakfast, now especially because you were making it.

Ditching the blanket, you grabbed on of Eddie’s hoodies from the couch, before walking into the kitchen. Grabbing some ingredients, you called out to Eddie, “Does waffles sound good?”

“Yeah, he said, but when he looked up, his mouth hung open.

You froze at his face, but gesturing to his hoodie, “Oh I’m sorry, I thought it would be okay…”

He cleared his throat, before smiling, slightly embarrassed, “No no, I was just surprised how cute you looked in it. Keep on wearing it.”

“Oh okay.” you said simply, but couldn’t keep the smile from growing on your face. You turned to the stove, your back to Eddie, not able to see the growing smile on his face as well.

During breakfast, with the heater fixed and working again, the two of you goofed around at one point, you threw a grape at him, but he playfully caught it in his mouth. It was a huge giggling mess, the two of you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Both of your waffles were stacked with whipped creme. Yours was, admittedly, a little highers then Eddies. You were a fan of sugar after all.

Popping a grape in your mouth, you looking sideways to see a look of contentment on Eddie’s face, “So Eddie…”

“Yes Y/N?”

“You seem to be doing really good. Like a lot better then when I first opened that door.”

He laughed, “Yeah! I remember that! I wasn’t expecting any prospective renters, and I was a mess, all sad and shit.”

You shrugged, taking another bite of your waffles, “Love does that to ya.”

“Yup. Well, we’ve come through the other side haven’t we!”

You raised a mug, “As I’ve said before to no longer being ‘fucking depressing’” he clinked the mug to yours, before sighing contently.

“Dove, much of this should be attributed to you. Having you as a roommate and now friend has been probably the best thing in my life. You dragged me out of a dark time.”

Warmth crept to your cheeks at his words, a smile gracing your face, “Happy to help”

He continued to hold eye contact with you, his eyes staring into the depths of your being before he chuckled slightly, and grabbed another grape and threw it at you this time. It hit your nose, and he bellowed out a laugh at your shocked face. “Hey! Mister, don’t start a food fight you can’t win!”

“Yeah?” he whispered leaning in, his face close to yours, “Watch me”

With his face so close to yours distracting you, he sneakily grabbed the whipped cream bottle, and squirted some on the top of your head.

You yelped at the sound, grabbed the top of your head, and when you pulled your hand away, it covered with the white creme. Looking up to Eddie you shocked face morphed into a evil smile.

Quickly, you slid your hand across his face wiping it across his cheek.

A look crossed his face, before it settled into a smirk, “Oh dove, you don’t know what you just started.” before he lunged at you with the can again.

Getting out of the chair, and running from him, you yipped in surprise. The rest of the morning consisted of lots of whipped cream. And in the most innocent way possible.

*****

Beaming, you practically skipped into the apartment. You had another date, and while you weren’t too excited due to your confused heart at the moment, you found him on a dating app and thought he had some promise.

You called out for Eddie, but with no response, you assumed he wasn’t home. Walking to the bathroom, you opened the door to reveal a completely buck naked and wet Eddie. Your phone fell from your hand as you stood shocked, mouth wide open it could catch flies. The scream that came from Eddie was so high pitched it shook you from your daze, and started to giggle as he made a mad dash for a towel, wrapping it around his waist. Your giggled turned into heavy laughter, cradling your stomach as Eddie stood there, miffed.

Between gasping for air, you got out, “You- your scream… Was so funny!”

“Yeah yeah” he grumbled, but not before a smile cracked on his face, and he soon joined in your giggles.

“Have you ever hear of locking the bathroom door when you shower?”

“Well I thought I was home alone…” he shook his head, water droplets falling from his hair, laughing as he adjusted the towel, making sure it was tied good enough, “Did you like what you saw?” he teased, already over the whole thing.

“Ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically, “Everyone talks about how size matters, but my ace ass never understood.”

He giggled that adorable giggle of his, “Damn it” he teased in disappointment.

“Well…” you pretended to think, rubbing your chin, “I did see a pretty good ass though. And those I can appreciate!”

A blush crept over his cheeks before he smiled, “Alright, alright, now get out.” he pushed you lightly out of the bathroom.

When he went to close the door again, you asked, “Wait!” cocking your head to the side, and glancing down at his crotch, twirling your hair with your finger playfully, “Can I have one more peek?”

“Agh, women!” he groaned out, “No more shows for you. You aceness doesn’t let you appreciate this beauty!” he guestered to his crotch, before sending you a wink, and shutting the door in your face.

A huge smile rested on your face, before yelling, “Hurry up in there, I have a date to get to!” walking away.

You didn’t see the smile on Eddie’s face fall at your words.

*****

“How was it?!” Eddie asked. You could hear slow music being played but it barely registered in your mind, when you walked back into the apartment from your date. You looked at him, plastering on the best fake smile you could give but when he saw your red puffy eyes and tear streaked face, his smile fell immediately “What happened?” he demanded, standing from the couch.

You tried to wave him off, “I’m fine I’m fine. See?” you tried your best to smile, but tears slid down your face, and you had to choke back a sob.

“Oh dove, come here come here” He guided you to the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer, “What happened? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“No no…” you whimper, shaking, but trying to wipe away your tears. “He wanted to- He… I told him I was asexual and he called me a fr- freak.” you sobbed out, tears streaming down your face again with vengeance.

“Oh god, no, dove. You’re not a freak. You are a kind and beautiful soul. You just happen to be ace, and that is okay.”

You nodded into his chest, trying to make yourself agree with him. You accepted yourself, it’s been a long time since an asshole has gotten to you like this, but this time just seemed like too much.

His warmth enveloping you as he pulled you off the couch and into his arms. Silently, he tightening his arms around you, slowly rocking you side to side. Soft music played in the background as the tears flowed unrelenting down your face. Eddie ran a hand into your hair, holding your head closer, as you buried your face into his chest. He hummed the tune, the vibration rattling through your bodies, calming your crying heart. You clung onto him, desperate for his touch, your arms held onto his waist tightly, tears soaking his shirt. His scent swamped your nose, a wave of calm washing over you.

Slowly, the rocking and the steadiness of him slowed your crying. You took in a shaking breath, starting to rock along with Eddie’s movements, until you started to fully slow dance. Taking small steps, you let the rhythm of his humming guide you, soaking in the serenity that he was creating. You loosened your arms from his waist, and wrapped your hands around his neck, as he shifted his arms to fully wrap around your lower back.

With your tears finally dried, you whispered quietly, “Thank you.”

At your voice, it broke Eddie’s heart even more, but he put a smile on his face, kissing the top of your head, “Anytime dove. Anytime.”

You snuggled your head back into his chest, humming softly, as you and Eddie continued to sway.

*****

Days past, but then disaster struck. The heater broke, and this time Eddie couldn’t fix it. You were standing behind him, shivering, wrapping your arms around yourself. “What do you mean he won’t be here until tomorrow?”

“The landlord said he wouldn’t be able to get a guy here until noon tomorrow”

“Fuuuuck” you let out slowly, “This is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, already reaching for his hoodie, slipping it on. By putting his arms up, you saw a glimpse of his belly above his lowly slung jeans.

Your breathe had hitched, before you turned abruptly, “Then I’m gonna make a huge ass pot of cocoa right now.”

“Please do! Thank you!” he yelled after you.

So there you sat, bundled to the top of your head with blankets, in one of Eddie’s hoodies, sipping from the hug mug. The apartment had cooled dramatically throughout the hours. And the cold weather outside felt like it was leaking in from the poorly insulated windows.

Holding it between your hands you tried to keep your body heat to yourself, cradling into yourself. Eddie sat next to you, his knees tucked under him with a fuzzy blanket draped over his lap. You were watching Netflix, trying to past the time. It was late into the night, but both of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep with it being this cold.

When your eyes started to droop, you turned to Eddie, “I’m gonna turn in. But I’m gonna take one more blanket and hope I don’t freeze to death sometime during the night.”

“Okay” he said, a yawn interrupting him, “I think I’m gonna as well.”

Walking to bed, you somehow had woken up more, and when you collapsed in bed, all you felt was the cold. The sheets were warming up from your body, all you felt was the cold being soaked up by you. And the number of the blankets over you were helping as much as you wanted. It seemed like hours had past, of you in fetal position trying to warm up slightly, but sleep seemed just as far away as it had when you fell in bed.

Looking at the clock, you let out a groan when you saw the time. Hours had past.

You muttered, “Screw it” before you grabbed a couple blankets and shuffled out of your room. Walking slowly to Eddie’s door, you opened it with a low creak. Popping your head in there, you whispered into the dark room, “Eddie? You awake?”

You heard a rustle in the sheets before Eddie responded, “Yeah, you okay?”

“Not really. I can’t fall asleep.” you walked into the room, the moonlight casting a soft light on your features. “I was wondering, if I could sleep with you? For um, warmth”

Eddie cleared his throat, before throwing back the sheets, “Of course, come on in.”

You plopped into the bed, throwing your blankets over the two of you. Sliding under the sheets, Eddie immediately pulled you closer, his arm over your shoulders. You slid your hands around his midsection, and he let out a little yelp.

“Good god dove! Your hands are freezing!” he grabbed your hands with his before cupping them and blowing warm air over them.

“Sorry!” you whispered, sighing slightly at the warmth spreading over your hands, but now trying to avoid him due to causing him even more coldness.

“Oh come here” he groaned. He put more of his hands around your hips, pulling you right to him with a huff. Like it was instinct, you clung to his side like a koala, lifting a leg so it would go between his, and wrapping your arms around his, fingers resting against his chest. Warmth was radiating from his body.

“Mhf, that’s better” he mumbled as he started to dance his fingertips along your arm, tucking his head closer to yours, so his face was in your hair, and took a big whiff. “You know, I love your shampoo.”

You snorted, “Oh my god, you’re so weird” chuckling lightly into his chest.

“Yeah” he hummed, the vibration sending chills into your body, “But I’m your weirdo”

Yawning, you smiled, “That you are.”

With the newfound warmth, you became drowsy immediately, his fingers lulling you further into unconsciousness. Eddie created a calm and utterly content environment that had sent you to sleep within minutes.

When you started to breath deeper, soft snores being admitted from your lovely mouth, Eddie started. He stared at the peacefulness that washed over your face when sleep took you. A smile graced his face when you moved closer to him, shifting so that your arms were now hugging him completely.

With your body next to his, the warmth radiating, heating up his own body and heart, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

*****

He never missed Sunday breakfasts, but there it was. A small, messy note, saying that there was a work emergency and that he had to miss breakfast. You felt your heart sink, but put a fake smile on your face, and made yourself breakfast, and even made a side plate and wrapped it up for Eddie.

You went through the day, thoughts of why Eddie wasn’t there for breakfast filling your mind. You had texted him at one point on when he’d be home. That was hours ago, and he still hadn't’t responded, and now, you were starting to worry a little. He was always responsive with texts, his phone was always on him. Messing with you, he even had put a crazy song that played every time you called or texted, so it left you dumbfounded as to why he wouldn’t be responding to your now mounting numbers of calls, and you were starting to think the worse.

You sat on the couch, phone cradled in your hands, as you debated on calling Anne. He had gotten on better terms with her, as she had gotten a new boyfriend, and had met her once.

When you decided against it, you slumped back into the couch, and tried to take your mind off your missing man.

That night, a loud crash abrupted in the kitchen, jolting you awake on the couch. Quickly getting up, you saw a sweaty Eddie, rummaging through the fridge.

“Eddie! Where the hell have you been?” you yelled out, but he only grunted, not even turning to you, and started to pull tater tots out of the freezer. He ripped it open, pouring the frozen pieces into his mouth, spilling all over the floor.

“What they hell is going on?” you exclaimed, extremely confused by his behavior. You walked over to him, putting a hand on his arm, trying to get his attention.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you repeated, pulling his arm towards you, trying to make him look at you.

Suddenly, he turned, getting his face in yours, his eyes wide and crazy, “Stop!” he yelled his voice booming in your face. That’s when the first bolt of fear dashed through you.

Letting go of his arm, you backed away slightly. He turned back into the fridge looking for more food.

Quietly, you tried to soothe him down, “Eddie… There’s the Sunday breakfast leftovers on the top shelf…”

He grunted again, pulling it out. He took the wrapping off the top, and shoveled the biscuits and gravy in his mouth with his fingers, before dropping the dish on the floor. The shattering startling you, a scream erupted from your mouth.

At the noise, Eddie finally looked at you. Really looked at you. The crazy look drained from his eyes, and all that was left was fear and remorse.

“Y/N…” he said softly, walking towards you, but you stepped back again. He stood, sadness washing over him at your actions, “I- I’m so sorry.” he said, realization and shame flooding his sense.

“What the hell is happening?” you asked, tears starting to overflow.

“I, I don’t know…” he said, his eyes begging for help. Suddenly, his demeanor changed, his eyebrows creasing in anger, and he yelled, “Stop talking!”

“What?!” you asked incredulously, confusion coursing through you.

He whipped around, facing the apartment door, “I said, STOP TALKING TO ME!” he yelled.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, backing away further from him.

He started to twitch slightly, and you heard him mumbled in confusion, “What are you talking about. Who’s they?”

A crash sounded and the front door busted open, revealing armed soldiers, who walked in, all their guns point at Eddie. They hadn't even noticed you, and they didn’t look like police and immediately gave you the wrong feeling, so you snuck away, hiding behind a wall.

You heard Eddie still talking to himself, and snuck a peek, and saw how he kept flapping his arms up and down as if he was fighting with his own body, and saying he would surrender, then asking odd questions.

He yelled out a sudden no, then black gooey stuff sprouted from his arms and started attacking the soldiers. You had to cover your mouth to stop you from screaming. Looking away you covered your ears as the fighting continued, bullets ringing out loudly, crouching behind the wall.

The noise continued, and tears started to fall from your face. You looked to see Eddie, and whatever black stuff that clung to his body, fall out of the window, the trendils wrapping around the attackers taking them with him.

Silence suddenly flooded the room. Once a small chandelier was swaying slightly, an eerie creek admitted from the metal. Slowly, you got up, body shaking in fear. You looked at the mess that used to be the living room and kitchen, tears streaming down your face. Carefully walking over broken glass, you looked out the shattered window, seeing nothing but darkness. And in that moment, you knew you were alone.

*****

After the initial shock had worn off, you got off the floor you had collapsed on, and dialed 911. This had resulted in a police reporting being made, and taking you to the station for questioning. It was there that they told you no officers were in the area, that the men who had taken Eddie weren’t police. While this had frightened you further, it did give some peace of mind in the fact he hadn’t done something illegal.

After intense questioning, and the police promising they would try their hardest to find your roommate, they let you go home. While you didn’t want to go back to the apartment, to the floor that was littered with pieces of jagged and bloody glass, to the broken window where you had last seen your Eddie, you had nowhere else to go. So you found your feet dragging yourself back to the front door of the apartment.

With a long creak, you slowly opened the door. The sight of the flickering light causing moving shadows in the corner, and the wind from the broken window sending a freezing breeze through the room gave you a shiver.

Thoughts flooded your mind, the memories of Eddie’s face as he crashed through the window playing over and over. With nothing else to do, you numbly got the dustpan and broom and started to sweep up the broken glass.

As you started to clean, tears slowly started to fall down your face, and gradually you started to gasp for breathes. You stopped sweeping trying to slow numb the pain by not thinking. Not able to stop your racing mind as flashes of Eddie’s scared eyes blinded your mind, a sob sprung from your lips and you collapsed on the floor, still clutching the broom against your chest. Your body trembled, and nothing felt right. Nothing was okay.

And that's where you stayed, feeling as if the world had caved in on you.

That night, you had cradled decided to sleep in his bed. When you had opened the door to his room, tears started to prickle at your eyes, eyes that had become puffy and dark red. You mind had settled to a blank hum, numbness washing over your body at you picked a shirt of his bed, clutching it tightly to your chest. Sitting on his bed, you slowly lowered yourself under his sheets, wrapping them around your shoulders. Keeping the shirt tight to your body, you cradled the pillow to your face, Eddie’s scent drifting to your noise. It was the only thing that allowed you to fall asleep that night.

*****

The next two days had consisted of many trips between the apartment and police station, with lots of coffee. You were sleeping horribly, Eddie had wormed his way into every waking thought you had, worry eating at your soul, leaving you a anxious mess.

You were currently at the kitchen table, emailing the police chief, when you heard shuffling outside the front door. Nerves lit up, whether it was excitement or fear, you didn’t know, but something told you that someone was on the other side of that door.

Keys jangled, and your breath caught in your throat, standing up to get a better view of the slowly opening door.

When a bloodied Eddie stumbled into the room, the mug dropped from your hand, shattering on the floor.

“Eddie!” you let out a scream, before racing over to him. Flinging your arms around him, you collided, him letting out a little “oof” stumbling back slightly. Standing on firmer ground, he tightened his arms around you, almost squeezing the air out of your body.

Into your hair, he mumbled out, “Y/N, my dove.” You clung onto him, letting a joyous laugh fall from your lips as the world fell back into place. His hand held the back of your head as you buried you head into his chest.

Suddenly, you pulled away, letting out a startled, “WHAT THE FUCK EDDIE?!”

His shocked and embarrassed face would have made you laugh any other day, but at this point, knowing he was now alive and safe, you were pissed.

Sheepishly, he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, “Well it’s a long story.”

“A long story? You fucking fell out a window!” you sobbed out, emotions spiraling out of control as you remembered what that last few days felt like.

“I’m so so sorry dove. I can’t imagine what that was like.” he said, remorse filling his eyes.

“Yeah you can’t imagine, because you have no fucking clue, do you? I’ve fallen in love with you, and you fucking disappeared!” his eyes shot open, mouth opening in surprise at your words. “You disappeared for 3 whole fucking days!”

With each word you lost track, slipping back into the nervous mess you were.

“You left me!” you shouted, hitting his chest with an open palm, but before it could make contact a black tendril came from his shoulder and grabbed your wrist in a tight lock.

You stood moving frozen, as the coldness from the black goo spread around your hand, and a black head with two white eyes, and long teeth sprouted from his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that morsel.”

Staring at the bright eyes, you whispered, “What the fuck…”

Eddie jerked away from you, pulling the tendril off your wrist. “Um, yeah that was the long story I was talking about.” The black goo went back into his shoulder disappearing.

“Um. Eddie? Care to explain?”

“Well yeah, um so I came into contact with this alien infected lady from Drake as one does, and contracted this alien that lives inside me and will come out, and make this big black alien body around me, and I had to fight this other alien that was a part of his group, and they had plans to come down and analate Earth and whatever and…” he continued his long explanation, but you had only been paying half attention when the thing had come out of Eddie’s shoulder and was staring at you again.

When Eddie said, “So I had to figure my shit out before I came back to you, and I’ve realized they’re not really that bad.”

The black head moved so it rubbed his head against Eddie’s cheek, “And I don’t think you’re that bad either Eddie. Not great though.”

Eddie chuckled at them, while, though the situation was absolutely absurd, you cracked a smile as well.

“Okay so you now have a alien in your body, that needs you to live, and that betrayed his whole race for you? Am I getting that right?”

“Yup”

“Well that sounds straight out of some gay fanfiction. Wait, and didn’t you say he was up your ass?”

“Yeah... And Y/N” he moved forward, his hands grabbing yours, his fingers enveloping your hands in his warmth, “I love you too”

“Huh.” you said simply, before cracking a smile, “Okay then, just know that my ass in not gonna participate in any gay sex, but I don’t mind another roommate so what the hell.”

[yoosungs-hairclips]

Hi, are requests open? *eyes emoji *if so, could you write a headcannon of RFA + Saeran with a college student MC who is barely hanging in there? Some kind of fluff and comical thing please 😍thank you

yes, requests are open! uhh i’m not good with moods- i usually just go with the flow LOL i’m an amateur writer atm, but i tried my best!! unfortunately i do not do saeran, v, or vanderwood HCs or fics at the moment because i don’t know enough about them! please read my request rules next time :-D

umm by struggling college student i assumed you meant like.. academically struggling? especially since you said fluffy and comical. i really hope this is what you meant :,)

1,996 words, 10,555 characters

Yoosung

you both said goodnight to each other a few hours ago, but you needed to study for a little bit

he was super glad that you were focusing on your studies

but not super stoked that you were ignoring your sleep and health to

he gave you a small lecture and went off to bed

….

now it’s 2:24 in the morning

and this man

needs water

right now

or he might just die

he stumbles out of bed, trying to kiss your forehead and see if you’re awake

but ends up faceplanting on the sheets

???????

Panic

IMMEDIATELY dashing through the door, frantically looking around for you

and when he does his heart melts through his ribs

you’re asleep on the dining table

your laptop is in front of you and there’s all sorts of papers underneath you

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…………………..no…………..

he feels simultaneously mad at himself for not checking on you and disappointed in you for not listening to him

but the latter goes away as soon as he hears you snoring

you must’ve been exhausted

he slowly creeps over to you as to not wake you up (like that would even matter lol you’re out like a LIGHT)

then when he gets over to you he realizes he has NO clue on what to do

he tries to pick you up and carry you to the bed but… he’s… not strong enough

ego? Destroyed

nonetheless, he comes to terms with the fact there’s no way to get you to bed while you’re sleeping

unless he drags you?

no. no he. no he can’t do that

:(

he crouches over

takes a deep breath while brushing your hair out of your face

before lightly tapping your back and whispering to you

…

oh wait he’s an idiot it’s gonna take a lot more than that

he decides on lightly shaking on your back when that doesn’t work for obvious reasons

immediately after you start to stir, a wave of guilt washes over him

even so, he keeps swaying you until your eyes open

he explains that he got up to get water and that he saw you on the t

OH FUCK (x2)

for him, he’s immediately dehydrated

for you, you’re horribly embarrassed your boyfriend of 5 months saw you like this

you desperately try to explain what happened, that you just got carried away studying

i mean

as desperate as you could sound when you’ve been asleep for about 3 hours and it’s 2:30 am

he only brushes it off though, asking you to Please actually go to bed

then he. rushes off to the fridge to get some Fluids

as soon as your head hits the pillow you’re out. you might be dead. you can’t tell and you don’t care

and when you wake up, he actually spent all morning getting more studying help for you

websites to help you focus, flashcards for studying (only if they help you!), the whole nine yards

and when he comes back from work, he studies with you and pampers you with your favorite homemade meals and snacks + store-bought gifts

does it help you focus? absolutely not

is it more enjoyable? H e l l    y e s

he’s been through college hell, so he understands completely when you’re struggling

Zen

when he got home, he could see you hyperfocusing on your laptop and scribbling down something

he notices this mostly because you didn’t even flinch when he slammed the door closed after coming in

hm…

he doesn’t want to bother since you’re obviously preoccupied, but he’s extremely worried when he sees you’re pale with malnourishment

i mean… he can’t just. ignore that

he tries to calmly get your attention by walking over to you and calling your name

but you’ve been so focused on this project all you see is a big distraction

before you know it, you’re yelling at him to go away

*windows start up noise*

you both freeze for a good 5 seconds before zen apologizes and starts walking away

Oh Fuck

instantly you feel.. so awful

you start trying to explain whats going on and why you’re so stressed out and high strung

but he cuts you off, saying he knows exactly what it feels like to be overwhelmed and as a result, lash out to those who don’t deserve it

instead of dwelling on it, he instead asks you if there’s anything he can do to make your project easier

he’s. absolutely clueless academically because he basically stopped trying in late middle school but

he can make dinner and get your favorite study snacks

he does Not let you study past 11:00

you have to get your beauty sleep!

in a BED

no budging, no excuses, no exceptions

11:00 is the cutoff

he will carry you to bed if need be

he WILL drag you

he doesn’t care

you need your R E S T ! ! !

Jaehee

you’re both in the cafe when you suddenly remember you have an essay due in 2 days that you’ve barely started

jaehee’s on the other side of the bar, making someone a cappuccino as you try to think with all the chatter going on

FUCK fuck shit fuck shit fuck

maybe you could work on it tonight and take off tomorrow? no, tomorrow’s a busy day and you have errands to run tonight

oooghghgt

it’s not too busy right now

you could go take the rest of the day off and work on it then

“MC? MC?”

OH FUCK

suddenly jaehee’s right in front of you, snapping her fingers to make sure you don’t glide in a complete different universe away from her

aka, worst case scenario

“are you okay?”

you comfort her and tell her you’re fine, but there’s something you need to work on

when she asks what, your face blushes a bit as you explain you forgot the due date of a major project

but uh the real thing you forgot is

this woman? fucking genius

she immediately moves on to what the subject is

when you elaborate, she tells you that she actually studied that a little bit in college as well and she’s somewhat knowledgeable in it

?!?!?!???!!??!?!

woman of your dreams. holy hell

you thank her profusely for her help, but you really gotta g- why are you taking your apron off

she quickly excuses everyone in the cafe, and flips the OPEN sign on the window

when she’s done, she smiles at you and asks you to show her what you have so far

you two both spend the entire evening working on it

she’s constantly researching every single element, trying to make sure that you get a perfect grade

you end up getting a 97%, only getting points off because you disagreed with her on one of the facts

never doubt jaehee kang.

Jumin

as soon as you say goodbye to him as he goes to work, you run over to your laptop and try to make a dent in your homework

ahfhdghdgwffnhtrht htyere’s so much

you don’t understand anything

what the fukc what is happening

you sit there, suffering, typing, researching, for what feels like years before you realize that it’s about the time that your fiancé gets home

fjknarjkdbnjkaf oh fuck

when this dawns on you, you also notice that there is piles and piles of paper and plates around you

Uh Oh

you’re scrambling to clean everything up when you hear the door clicking

UH OHx40

“MC?”

“h-hiiii”

“what are you doing bent over the couch. why is there paper everywhere.”

“i, was,

college”

he takes a long look at your flustered face and asks if you’re struggling with your studies

although you’re a bit ashamed, you look at your feet and realize you have to concur

“i’ll get you a tutor then. wait one moment.”

W

you ask him what he means by that

“was i not clear enough? you’re struggling with school. i will get you the best tutor in the country. that will help, won’t it?”

you immediately disagree, saying you don’t need a tutor and you can just ask for extra help from the professors

he doesn’t understand

you have to talk to him about it for around 5 minutes until he lets up

he’s still confused though

nonetheless, he’s super smart

he’ll usually be able to help you with your work whenever he’s not busy

707

he’s taking a break from work for a while in his room

his hands hurt and he cant stop thinking about you anyways

you’re busy right now though :(

next best thing?

looking for shitty ironic cosplay outfits to wear with you

Hell Yes

he’s browsing amazon.com and

oh fuck yeah

https://www.amazon.com/VSVO-Womens-Cosplay-Halloween-Costume/dp/B013FG5QZE?th=1

hahahahahaha oh my god

IT COMES IN BLACK AND PINK????

he’s being so spoiled right now

he clicks the add to cart button, and right when he’s buying it he hears you grunt in frustration he has good hearing, he kinda needs to for his spy missions

??????? wha

he gets up to go check on you and he sees you typing at like 400 WPM on your laptop

you’re so focused you don’t even see him lurking behind the door

your first mistake is not being extremely attentive when you’re within 20 feet of him

he drops down to his hands and knees and starts crawling over to you, ready to try to scare you with a not threatening what-so-ever “MEEEOOOOOW”

but his hopes and dreams are interrupted when you take one look at him and stiffly ask “what.”

oogh….ow…..

his face almost turns as red as his hair

he shoots up and, not so smoothly, attempts to change the subject from the failed “prank” with “haha you just got punk’d anyways what’re you doing lol”

you smile at his horrible attempt at recovery and tell him that you’re trying to work on a project for one of your college classes and you really need to focus and you love his jokes but now is not the ti-

“okok babe that’s cool and all but like… check this out lmao”

he pulls out his phone and shows you a patrick star (+ other miscellaneous spongebob characters) costume he found earlier

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/93801604718806168

you genuinely can’t help but snicker no matter how angry you are at him rn

and then he starts laughing because you’re laughing

and now you two are both giggly messes

what a bunch of losers

when your laughter dies down, he asks what your project is on

you show him your progress, and right away he’s complimenting you

……..and then he starts correcting you

you’re a bit scared

everything he says makes sense

you feel a little red in the face while realizing that

you forgot the fact that this man is a literal genius

from then on, he constantly asks what you’re working on

and if you show it to him he always, always finds a mistake somewhere

once he actually found nothing wrong with it and you might have cried

though! among all the criticism he’ll never make fun of you outright

maybe a few jokes here and there

“you used the wrong you’re here. did you graduate 3rd grade or did you just skip to 11th” “seven shut up i mean it this time”

[everbrilliantheartbreaker]

Fanfiction Reader Tag

Tagged by @eyeliner-vampire  ♡ ♡

Fanfiction Reader Tag!

1. When did you start reading Fanfic (How old you were or how long ago)?

When I was probably...11 ish? so like 13 years ago

2. Do you have an AO3 account?

Yeh (LadyWisteria)

3. Do you read WIP (work in progress)? Why or why not?

All the time. I’m not picky about this at all. I’m a simple person. I see fic I think I’ll like? I read. doesn’t matter if it’s finished or not. I’ll make up my own ending til it is lol. also authors need that encouragement. finishing stuff is hard

4. What time of day is your ‘fic reading time’?

Usually late at night (like 1 a.m. and later..much later) but sometimes I’ll waste an afternoon instead (2 p.m. ish til I either have to go to work or I finish the fic)

5. How much time do you spend reading fic per week?

Not remotely as much time as I used, that’s for sure. Anywhere from an hour (if I’m rereading That favorite fic) to 2-4 hours if my friend has sent me a longfic again.

6. Do you listen to podfic (fanfic recorded like an audiobook)?

I...didn’t even know this was a thing tbh, so no. Sounds very neat but also I don’t listen to audio books anymore bcus my attention span re: audio input has gotten so bad over the years I can’t focus for more than a few minutes. 

7. What’s your favorite fic genre to read?

AUs AUs AUs. and fantasy. and fantasy AUs (although good long AU fics are harder to find). I am a very simple person. I see magic mentioned, I read. I also read a lot of romance fic (proving once again that fanfic writing is often better than mainstream original writing, bcus romance is one of my least favorite YA/movie genres). I don’t read as much of them but I also love mystery and paranormal fics

8. Are there any genres that you tend to avoid?

Super angsty no happy ending type stuff. “Major Character Death” is an automatic nope lmao (unless the summary looks reaallyyy interesting or it was recc’d to me). Tragedy is definitely Not my thing

9. What tag(s) do you track?

I don’t track any fic tags (I stopped tracking tags at all since Tumblr changed it from “keeping track of new posts in said tag” to “dropping random posts from that tag into the middle of your dash, and usually the same three”)

10. How do you find new fic?

Nowadays I mostly just read what friends send me or the new stuff a very few writers I follow post, but sometimes I also come across stuff through Twitter or Tumblr and curiosity wins out

11. How do you organize your fic bookmarks?

I..don’t? Is this a thing people do?? If I wanna reread something I either search through my bookmarks by title/author or just. filter by fandom. 

12. Do you subscribe to authors or stories?

Yeh. I only keep up with a very select few of them though. altho part of that is due to several of them being people I followed on fanfic.net years and years ago and never unfollowed, even though our interests may no longer be the same. (the other part is me going “oh I’ll read that later” and then just. never doing it.)

13. What is your favorite fanfic trope?

fake dating and bed sharing are always good

everyone is gay. also Good

14. What kind of plot line are you always here for?

“everything’s the same but they’re soulmates” (oh my god they were soulmates)

mafia AU

MAGIC

I really like in-between scene fics too. the events and character interactions that happen off-screen. I like writing those

15. What can an author do to make you love them?

write about my faves frequently

cool AUs

write about minor characters

good sense of humor

16. What can an author do to make you avoid them?

not into mpreg fics

a/b/o fics make me super wary I usually pass on those, even if the summary looks mildly interesting. they’re rarely if ever done in a way that isn’t rapey and gross

don’t care for fics period that have rapey scenes but you’re supposed to find them romantic

adult/minor ships

characterization is a big deal to me so if I don’t like how they handle the characters, especially faves I probably won’t be back

17. What do kudos mean to you?

when I get one I have a few seconds of “oh someone kinda liked this thing I wrote” and then I carry on about my day >.>;;; (I do appreciate them tho)

18. What kind of commenter are you (No comment, short comment, keyboard smash)?

I don’t comment as often as I mean to or wish I did, but when I do they’re loong comments (I’ve passed the AO3 character limit at least once kshg)

I tend to quote favorite parts and then react to them, and I like to theorize and ask questions about character’s thoughts at a certain part or what author imagines happens before/after the fic

19. Have you ever stopped reading a fic? Why or why not?

Yes. Once because I stumbled into a very sexually explicit fic when that was. Not at all what I was expecting (I was also very young lol), I think there was a very few I quit because they were boring or very poorly written, but most often I “quit” a fic for the same reason I don’t do audio books anymore lmao: because my attention span is sht and my motivation and commitment are extremely fickle things. I either forget or just wander away for a bit and then forget. Often I mean to come back and finish it; it’s just a matter of how long it takes. (I also second hand embarrassed out of a fic so hardcore that it’s been a whole 9 months since I’ve touched it khdfgd)

20. Have you ever read a fic more than once? What is it about that fic that makes you want to read it again?

YES. This requires like a minimum 4 separate posts to really answer but:

Behind Bricks and The Penance of a Killer by Deathbelle

this person is my fricking favorite author ever and these are two of my fricking favorite fics ever, I must’ve reread Behind Bricks 6 or 8 times now and Penance is the BokuAka-centric companion piece to my favorite fic of all time that I always wanted 

Mending Bonds and If the Heart Breaks, Does That Mean There’s No Home? by RussianSunflower3 

Mending Bonds is soft found family fluff centering on a very minor fave of mine and If the Heart Breaks is very angsty found family fluff that also focuses on some minor characters and it always hurts my heart but the ending and the soft middle always heal it right back up (“[Hanamaki] has a heart big enough for everyone in the world, and then some.” ohhhh my godd)

Boiled Frogs by ReginaGalaxia 

this one is. a really hard read centered around emotional abuse and manipulation and hoooo boy it is a rough read especially if you’ve experienced any of that personally but it’s so well written and the character dynamics are great and in its lighter moments it’s fricking hilarious. 

(bits and pieces of) The Roost by Ugglabarn 

 bits and pieces only bcus Roost has a lot of very heavy dark content that I’d have to be in a specific mood to reread the whole thing because it hurts my heart way too much but also it’s one of the best Fukurodani-centric longfics I’ve ever read (PLUS AN AU..!!) and I love love how they write the characters and how much focus there is on the minor members and ships and in its lighter moments Roost is also really funny the most recent chapter was hilarious

Expensive Hotel by Crown_of_Winterthorne

smut. explicit smut. excellent explicit smut with loving polyamorous boyfriends and plenty of consent discussion and kissing. my entire jam right there

Class 1-A Whomst? by Ya_Boi_Hal

this is the funniest chatfic I’ve ever read in my life and the first good chatfic I ever read. absolutely hysterical. also has some really good serious content in the middle and some Aizawa dialogue that punched me right in the feels. 12/10 will read again. sometimes I just randomly say “Mineta whomst??” and cackle to myself

and back in the day it was:

The Flame of Betrayal by DataIntegrationThoughtEntity

I guess traitor! Tahu was a popular trope back when Bionicle fandom was at its peak?? and not everyone liked it apparently but I enjoyed this fic greatly every time I read it it was well written and had interesting OCs and I am actually highly tempted to go reread it again

and Asleep Beneath a Wheat Field by Feline Freak

this was a very peculiar little OC-centric one shot that was also very sad and I don’t know why it grabbed me like it did but I remember rereading it 3 or 4 times at least

21. Do you like sequels?

The fics I like don’t usually come with sequels but The Penance of a Killer is one so Yes

22. Do you like dabbles?

I guess? I haven’t read too many I don’t think but hey, more fic is more fic. Who’s gonna complain about that?

23. What do you wish more fic authors would do?

Write about minor characters more

24. What do you wish more authors would stop doing?

that thing where they latch onto one facet of a character’s personality - or worse, one that fandom made up - and write them as if that’s the only trait they have

25. Do you like one-shots or multi-chapter?

Multi-chapter. I mean both are great obviously but the majority of my faves are multi-chapter and obviously if I like a fic I’m gonna wanna spend as much time in that universe as possible

26. How long do you like chapters to be?

Usually I feel the longer the better. once in a while I’ll hit one that’s so long it’s kind of distracting but extremely rarely

27. What’s your favorite POV (point of view) to read (first, second, third)?

Third

28. What do you think of OC’s?

I didn’t use to care for them very much but as I started reading fic by more advanced writers I found several I really liked. have a very small list of OCs from recent fics I’ve read I would actually kill a man for I love them so much

29. Do you download fic?

No, but seeing as my absolute favorite Bionicle fic vanished off the face of the earth several years ago and I cannot find anything about it an y wh ere sometimes I think about saving my faves. I never got to finish reading that fic and I am absolutely devastated every time I think about it. 

30. Tell me something else about your fic reading! Anything else!

best thing is when my friend and I buddy read a fic and send each other our favorite parts

Tag!

@yaelathewordsmith and @samantha-girlscout  ♡ ♡ ♡

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Of Farms Fairs & Fame (Part 20)

Winter passed into sping and Azula wasn’t sad to see the cold off. Though it had been rather nice to have an excuse to get cozy with Sokka; one that allowed her dad to pretend that his daughter didn’t have her first boyfriend.

With the weather warmed, the time to release her first album was approaching fast. She pearched herself on the tire-swing from the branches of an age old willow by the small duck pond in her yard, feeling a warm gust stirring her hair into tangles. She just had to wait for Sokka’s second opinion to put the final touches on her final song. Her stomach fluttered at the prospect of starting the recording process.

It was finally starting to seem as real as she knew it was.

She kicked her feet at the ground and set the tire swing in motion. She could smell the perfume of honeysuckle and meadowsweet among other floras. Off in the distance Zuko’s voice carried, he was grumbling something about bees making his job more difficult. She knew then that, that was why Ozai wasn’t anywhere near the garden--the man was allergic to the insects.

Gazing out at the small pond she recalled fondly, spring days when she and Zuko would run about the garden, either playing tag or jumping through sprinklers until their dad turned the hose off and scolded them for using up so much water. They would then take to tossing a frisbee or blowing bubbles.

On such an afternoon, TyLee would be dashing across the yard catching butterflies and ladybugs and showing them off to Mai.

Azula gave something between a sigh and a laugh--at least some things didn’t change. Since the healing of her leg, TyLee had been making a point of dashing about whenever an opportunity presented itself. And when no opportunity came, she created one for herself. “I caught one!” She shouted.

“You caught one several times a’ready.” Mai rolled her eyes.

Azula scanned the garden for Iroh, until she found him in the garden by Zuko, wearing his ridiculous straw hat. She was left to assume that the old man was gathering the perfect herbs for his teas. Teas which always tasted the best in the springtime.

Azula pushed her shades back up the bridge of her nose and brought the tire swing to a halt. “Sokka.” She spoke, not meaning to sound quite so cold.

“Ya havin’ a bad day?”

Azula shook her head.

“Then why y’all greetin’ me like that fer?”

Azula shrugged. “It’s jus’ how I talk is all.”

He slung his arm around her neck and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“What took you so long to git here?” Azula asked.

“Had ta mow the lawn ‘n stuff.” He replied. “Ain’t ya got any werk ta git done?”

Azula hummed in thought. “Normally I’d be workin’ with cows ‘n pigs. But father wants me to mostly focus on my songs. I’m almos’ done with those though.”

“Speakin’ a pigs…”

“Over there.” She pointed to were Spade was trotting across the field, looking for all the world, like the world’s happiest piglet. “He’s doin’ much better now that he ain’t need to be buried under so many blankets.”

“We still talkin’ ‘bout the pig or are we talkin’ ‘bout ‘chu.”

“I were talkin’ ‘bout the pig, Sokka.” Azula replied, well aware that her words certainly did apply to her as well. She pulled herself out of the tire swing, picked up the guitar she had left resting against the tree, and led Sokka to the dock. Once there she put her boots to the side and dipped her toes into the water. It was still a tad chilly to shed her top for a swim, but it was nice enough for kicking her feet at the surface.

She watched a dragonfly skim the surface and looked to Sokka. The boy spoke first, “so what songs am I lookin’ at taday?”

“Actually I was hopin’ to ask you if you wanted to sing some of them wit me…”

His smile gave his face a charming boyish glow. “I’d sing all’a them wit ya. Jus’ go ‘n ask.”

She thought that, maybe on her second album she would. Being one half of a musical duo didn’t seem as lonely as going completely solo. “Great, of course I want you to sing the one you helped me write…” She listed three or four more that she thought she could fit his vocals on to, watching his face brighten more and more with every track she offered him a part on.

“I were also thinkin’ ‘bout lettin’ Mai ‘n TyLee sing on one of them. Mai said she ain’t like singin’ though.”

Frankly, Azula was glad that TyLee had taken her up on the offer, it allievatied that much more guilt for having ruined her shot at the blue ribbon and a trophy. “I wrote a song ‘bout a ridin’ horses specifically for her to sing.”

“Adorable.” Sokka ruffled her hair.

“Quit that.” Azula swatted at his hand with a defiant pout. If the boy kept it up, she’d have him in the pond with a pair of wet socks and underpants for a lesson. Naturally, her words only made him ruffle her hair more. With a good heave there was a splash that had both Mai and TyLee turn their heads. Hastily, Azula retracted her legs from the water before Sokka could pull her down too. Not that doing so had deterred him from springing out of the water and tackling her in with him.

“Great, now I’m gonna smell like pond water.” Azula grumbled.

“Y’all have a shower in yer house.”

Azula gave an indigent sniff, knowing very well that she had brought this one on herself, at least to some degree. “You know what you are, Sokka?”

“The best boyfr’en a cowgirl ken ask fer?” He asked hopefully.

“Look over there.” Azula pointed at a flock of roosters that were giving the ground jittery pecks. “Yer one’a them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Azula climbed back onto the dock and squeezed her shirt and hair out, before helping Sokka fish himself out of the pond.

She barely got him onto the dock when TyLee flug herself into the water with an absurdly passionate “yee haw!”

“Y’all have got to be kiddn’ me.” Mai huffed at the splotches of water on her cheeks and sundress. “Can’t ya’ll stick to blowin’ bubbles or somethin’?”

“It’s nice ‘n dry over here!” Zuko called.

“Nice ‘n muddy too.”

“Mud or water, Mai.” Azula presented her two options.

She thought for a moment. “I reckon I need to keep Zuko company.”

“We ain’t gonna get nothin’ done on my songs, are we?” Azula asked as TyLee shouted for her to join her in the water.

“Yer songs are already perfect.” Sokka replied as he dived back in. Upon surfacing, he added, “stop stressin’ over it ‘n come join us.”

She wasn’t one to toss her duties to the wind. But lord, if there was a time to give it a try…

She supposed that she didn’t know how many opportunities she had left to do something like this.

Everyone liked to say that fall is the season of change, but she knew deep down that, for her, spring would be the season of change. Hopefully the pleasant kind. And with luck, it would be such for TyLee as well; the first stretch of the horse race season would be mid-month and if she qualified to move forward, she’d be going to the nationwide races in the same summer Azula would ideally depart for her first tour if her album gained any traction.

For the time being, Azula put her guitar aside--she’d have more than enough quality time with it soon enough--and slipped herself into the pond.

Any moment now, Iroh would wander up with his camera, snap a few photos, and declare, “fer the scrapbook.”  And everyone would take a moment to roll their eyes before resuming activity.

“Eh, Sokka, did’ja know that there are snakes in here?” Azula slyly implored.

The boy jolted and the next thing she knew, she was carrying the boy, much to the delight of TyLee who squealed a, “that’s so cute!”

“There ain’t really snakes in here, are there?”

Azula thought for a moment. “There were one, once.”

“What are y’all doin’?” Ozai asked running an exasperated hand over his face. “Whad I tell you ‘bout swimmin’ in the pond wit yer good clothes on?”

“That it’s fine in moderation?” Azula smiled.

Ozai rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yer doin’ yer own laundry tonight.”

“You think Spade can swim?” Azula heard TyLee question.

“Dad?” Azula called as the man walked. He stopped to glance at her. “Can you do me a favor ‘n fetch me a piglet?”

Ozai crossed the yard, picked Spade up mid-stride, and handed him to Azula.

.oOo.

“Yer the best, Azula’s pops.” Sokka gave him a thumbs up.

Ozai rolled his eyes. His daughter certainly had a bizarre taste in lovers. “I better be the best after everythin’ y’all put me through.”

“Yer gonna miss it when I’m all famous ‘n can’t do it no more.” Azula insisted.

At her words. face flickered from mild amusement to something else, something more somber. He didn’t want to think about that right then. He could see it on her face that it was just playful talk. Just harmless banter, as if she didn’t think she had it in her to make it big enough for those words to ring true.

“You bet I’m gonna miss it.” He mumbled more to himself.

“Wha’d ya say?” TyLee asked as she hovered Spade above the water, watching him kick his stubby legs as though he were still swimming.

“I said, y’all better not drip water all over my carpets when y’all come inside.”

“That ain’t what you said.” Azula grumbled.

“I’ll see the lot of y’all at dinner.” Ozai responded, hopefully bringing the conversation to a close. He supposed that he was going to have to come up with some kind of talk. Tell her to be careful and do her best out there. Tell that boy to take care of her if she chose to bring him along.

[nightscaped-archive]

HAPPY 5th ANNIVERSARY (TO THIS BLOG)

that’s right! 3rd august 2014 ~ 3rd august 2019, babey! that’s half a decade. YIKES! teeeechnically, i made the blog on the 2nd and kael was in development in the few days leading up to the 3rd but my first ic post on this blog was just after midnight on 3rd august (it’s...10pm here now so i’m a little late but, because the dash has been quiet all day, fart noises to that). i don’t have the energy to put together a bias list or anything cute like that but i’d like to just...be a sap for a second. i wanted to get some ic done here today and try to be active on the blog’s anniversary but i’ve not been focusing well today & that’s partly why this post is a little late hehehe. also happy birthday to natsu, kael’s de*d best friend ):

i say this every. single. year. but this anniversary is really exciting because i remember not thinking kael would last more than a few months, mostly because i had been cycling through canon muses without being able to settle. kael was the muse that finally just really CLICKED. i was so scared to try writing an OC on such an open platform like this but i’m SO glad i gave it a shot because, ultimately, i feel more secure writing original characters. i’ve always loved creating my own characters, this is my comfort zone. back then, i remember my indecisiveness was a little weird but i feel like having a muse this long has become the weirder thing asfgfdsdfg it’s hard sticking with the same muse so long when the rpc seems to favour jumping from blog to blog --- which is totally cool and i’m not knocking what other people do at all, it’s just a little frustrating when people use that as a reason to only give blogs, esp original muses, a month of attention. but, hey, i don’t want to use this post to complain. i want to be positive! and i DO feel positive! and i want to point out those frustrations to make a positive point! despite the ups and downs of this blog, despite sometimes losing confidence and the motivation to write, i’m extremely grateful for the experiences i’ve had with the muse and the stories i’ve gotten to write. i’m very proud of kael as a character and, even if i feel low about the blog sometimes, i’ll always be proud of this character for myself. whether or not people are interested, whether or not this blog is active, i am happy with what i’ve done with this character over the past 5 years and i don’t think anything will change that :relieved emoji: :relieved emoji:

now, this is where i thank people...i’m not gonna name names or be super specific because i’ve rambled enough as it is but i do want to say that i’m super grateful to everybody who’s EVER taken an interest in this muse. even the people who have long since been inactive, the people who have naturally drifted away, even the people who got bored or eventually unfollowed. this is going to sound like some cheesy SHITE but just...thank you for giving me your time & for every spark of inspiration you might have shared with me without knowing! ;~) and, of course, an extra thank you to people who have written big plotlines with me, whose muses have been super important to kael & his development and also the BIGGEST thank you to the friends i’ve made through this blog. or the friends i made before who kept with me through this blog. (and the MOST INFINITE thank you to a bestie without whom 1) kael’s plotline would be very different and 2) my life would be a lot less FUN)

somehow, i don’t feel like i’ve really gotten all my feelings written out clearly and there are definitely things i’m missing but, again, my ability to focus is NOT with me today and, the more i try to write, the more i start rambling. maybe it’s just as well, i’m sure there’s nothing to say that i haven’t said on previous anniversaries. still, i’m stunned this blog has lasted this long. looking through old posts from the very beginning of my blog is so funny to me because it was so obvious i didn’t really know who kael was yet, even if i got a grip on him quite quickly after. even so, he’s definitely changed in a lot of ways but i think the essence of the original character is always there, his core has always been the same. i don’t think he’s been an inconsistent character. there’s less enthusiasm here than there was in the past, maybe because he’s not a new character so there’s less to say or maybe because the rpc has become apathetic. it’s not for me to say. but my love for writing him has been the driving force here. i don’t feel like i need people to tell me whether or not this is a good character because the most important thing, at this point, is that i still care about writing him. sometimes, this blog has brought trouble & i haven’t always enjoyed it but, even if rp is just a hobby, kael has done a lot for me as a source of comfort and escapism and there’s no taking that away from me, babey!

i know i haven’t been as active here lately, especially over the last month. a lot of things in my real life slowed me down near the end of last year & i just wasn’t in the mood to bring my whole self into my writing. that’s less of an issue now but i also just haven’t felt as invested in indie rp as i used to. i don’t want to go into the reasons why because it’s really the usual boring stuff of not being great at reaching out to people and putting yourself out there as an OC writer being hard unless you’re someone with a lot of friends. i’ve been trying to get into closed rp, esp closed oc-based rp, on the side to keep myself going but i really want to use this milestone as an excuse to push myself! i owe replies here and i want to do them! please wait for me!

anyway, tldr; thank you sticking with me and this boderline-catboy bastard for 5 whole years! i’ll be here more often as soon as possible. i LOVE kael!

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 1 - 2

 Book: Empire of Storms

Author: Sarah J. Mass

Ah, my dear readers, what can one say about SJM? While I do admit there is some value in a few of her books (I quite enjoyed the early t0g novels) to say her writing has stirred controversy is a bit of an understatement. There are arguments for and against why her series are problematic and toxic, why her world building is atrocious and her characters overpowered and unlikable, but I believe every author deserves a chance. Let’s see if we can give EoS a good fair shake to see whether it holds up or not, shall we?

The prologue of this book starts right off with Princess Elena Galathynius and her broad shouldered boy toy Gavin (we all know SJM does enjoy herself a broad shouldered man or two) angsting over the inevitable doom and deaths of their friends while planning to flee the battle to buy themselves more time. I won’t bore you with details; it’s separate from the main plot, short, and doesn’t offend me that much. Moving on!

Chapter One

The real story kicks off with Elide Lochan, a character from the previous novel, running through the woods. Elide was one of the few characters I found myself endeared towards, for her sweet yet strong personality and her relationship with Manon.

Weeks. It had been weeks since Manon Blackbeak and the Thirteen had left her in this forest, the Wing Leader ordering her to head north. To find her lost queen, now grown and mighty—and to also find Celaena Sardothien, whoever she was, so that Elide might repay the life debt she owed to Kaltain Rompier.

For those not aware, SJM is extremely found of em dashes. Like, she uses them a lot. I’m guilty of this too, but at least I have the sense to edit them out before publishing works! Also oof, I can smell Celaena gushing coming up.

Unfortunately, Elide had learned the hard way about what water to drink. Three days, she’d been near death with vomiting and fever after gulping down that stagnant pond water. Three days, she’d shivered so badly she thought her bones would crack apart.

While I like the imagery used here, since you get the full picture of how cold she was..... Shouldn’t the sentence be “For three days”? Just stating three days and what she was doing has no connection.

She’d run out of food a week ago and had taken to scavenging for berries. They were all foreign, but a whisper of a memory from her years with her nursemaid, Finnula, had warned her to rub them on her wrist first— to see if they raised any reaction.

I actually really like this, It shows Elide is smart, has a good memory, and is resourceful. SJM, please don’t mess her up.

Maybe she’d made a wrong turn. How would she know when she’d crossed Terrasen’s border, anyway? And how would she ever find her queen—her court?

Unghhhhh she doesn’t mean Aelin does she? If Elide is used only to gush and fangirl over what an amazing queen Aelin is I’m gonna be ill.

Elide hears wyverns flying by and hides, before realizing....

Not witches or wyverns or beasts. But someone—someone was watching her. Someone was following her.

Manon has come to sweep her girlfriend off her feet! Right...?

Lorcan Salvaterre had been running from those gods-damned beasts for two days now.

Oh god no.

Here’s the thing; I like Lorcan as a villain. He was a threat that at least made the main characters sweat a little in the previous novel, to my memory. Surely he will continue to be a villain, perhaps Elide’s main rival in this novel? After all we have a paragraph describing how he tortured and killed some witches, so surely-

He’d been hiding here first, listening to the clamor of [Elide’s] clumsy approach, and had watched her stumble and limp when she finally heard what swept toward them. She was delicately built, small enough that he might have thought her barely past her first bleed were it not for the full breasts beneath her close-fitting leathers.

I’M... SPEECHLESS. Why is that what Lorcan notices about her?? Not her mature vibe, perhaps the determination on her face, but her breasts? He doesn’t even know this girl!! Also, just because a girl has big breasts doesn’t mean she’s older. I know girls as young as 14 with huge breasts. And while I like that SJM does acknowledge periods, which so many YA authors act like they don’t exist, the focus of it here makes me... uncomfortable.

The demon-possessed girl limped up the streambed, that useless knife still out, her grip on its hilt wholly ineffective. Good. And so Lorcan began his hunt.

Oh, so maybe he is going to be an enemy during this novel? I’d read a showdown between them. Preferably with Elide outwitting and kicking his ass.

Chapter 2

Crouched beside the brook, empty skins forgotten on the mossy bank, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius extended a scarred hand over the rushing water and let the song of the early-morning storm wash over her.

*inhales* Oh Aelin. A character most hate, and one I just honestly don’t know. There’s times where I like how arrogant and show off she can be, but other times she aggravates me, mostly due to the whole lost queen thing. 

She breathed in the chill mists and fresh rain, dragging them deep into her lungs. Her magic guttered in answer, as if yawning good morning and tumbling back to sleep.

I actually like the way SJM describes magic, as if its its own sentient being that lives within its owner. Too bad there’s no magic system or anything actually done with this imagery. 

Across the brook, atop a mossy boulder tucked into the arms of a gnarled oak, a pair of tiny bone-white fingers flexed and cracked, a mirror to her own movements. Aelin smiled and said so quietly it was barely audible over the stream and rain, “If you have any pointers, friend, I’d love to hear them.”

The Little Folk illustrate my biggest issue with SJM; she comes up with cool fantasy concepts and characters, and never does anything with them. The Little Folk serve little purpose (ha), but I love them!! I love this scene with the Little Folk mirroring her movements. But I’m willing to wager SJM is never gonna bring them up again.

But they’d left small gifts just outside the border of Rowan’s nightly shields, somehow deposited without alerting whichever of them was on watch.

I’m stanning the Little Folk. They’re magic and skilled enough to outwit even Rowan and they bring them cute handmade gifts? Give me a Little Folk spin off.

Soggy leaves crunched behind her, and Aelin knew it was only because Rowan wanted her to hear his approach. “Careful, or they’ll leave something wet and cold in your bedroll next time.”

*inhales* Hoo boy, Aelin/Rowan time. This should be... interesting.

Strong hands slid over her waist, tugging her into his warmth, as Rowan’s lips grazed her neck, right under her ear. Aelin arched back into him while his mouth roved across her throat, heating mist-chilled skin. “Good morning to you,” she breathed.

And already they’re acting hornier than teenagers right now. Great. I mean, I’m not opposed to characters being in sexual relationships or expressing this, but God, these two take it waaaay too far. They think about sex 24/7 and it gets exhausting after a while. 

“If you want to take a bath so badly,” Rowan murmured against her neck, “I spotted a pool about a quarter mile back. You could heat it—for both of us.” She ran her nails down the back of his hands, up his forearms. “I’d boil all the fish and frogs inside it. I doubt it’d be very pleasant then.”

(...)

A dark laugh against her now-burning skin. It was an effort to keep from taking one of his hands and guiding it up to her breasts, to beg him to touch, take, taste.

Like, can we get them having a nice romantic moment without them being so sex hungry for once? I barely have any feel of a connection between them aside from the fact that they are DTF. I wouldn’t have an issue if this was an erotica novel, but this is supposed to be epic fantasy.

Aelin expositions about how they’re planning to meet some lords from Terrasen, and how Lorcan is under the impression that he has the real Wyrdkey. Hopefully this means we’ll be getting some awesome fantasy content soon.

He gave her a wry smile and aimed a pointed look at Goldryn, sheathed across her back, and the various knives strapped to her. “And besides: I thought ‘cloak-and-dagger’ was your middle name.” She offered him a vulgar gesture in return.

Wait, why is SJM censoring the middle finger? I’d understand if this was an actual YA novel, but this book has graphic sex scenes. Why can’t she write Aelin flipping someone off? Unless Aelin is doing some other hand gesture?

No matter that Aelin was the bearer of a weapon capable of wiping out this entire valley, along with the gray Staghorn Mountains watching over it. And that was just her magic.

*sigh* We get it SJM, Aelin is the most special powerful sorcerer to ever exist. 

“You trust nothing.” She met his eyes. “I trust you.”

If this was for a ship I liked, I’d be squealing with delight. But then the two of them proceed to make out yet again, and immediately the smile on my face dies as I am forced to yet again read paragraphs of Rowan forcing his tongue down Aelin’s throat.

So Aelin kissed Rowan gently, his hands again locking around her hips. “Fireheart,” he said onto her mouth. “Buzzard,” she murmured onto his.

Okay, I will admit. Couples having special nicknames for each other is one of my favorite tropes. I’ll admit, Aelin calling Rowan buzzard is kinda sweet if you ignored how shitty their relationship is.

Evangeline howled, “Fooooood!” Fleetfoot’s answering howl followed a heartbeat later. Then Lysandra’s snarl rippled toward them, silencing girl and hound.

Lysandra!!! Another character I loved. She is so strong and overcomes her abuser and her trauma to become a badass warrior, and plus she has girl friendship with Aelin! I’d read a series about Elide and Lysandra traveling around the world together.

When she looked back, Rowan was halfway to the camp, Evangeline’s red-gold hair flashing as she bounded through the dripping trees, begging the prince for toast and eggs.

....... eggs and toast? In the middle of the forest? Not what I’d expect, but alright.

And Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, knew the time would soon come to prove just how much she’d bleed for Erilea.

Sure, sweetheart. Also, you’re not a queen yet. You haven’t been crowned or declared ruler officially.

We switch to Aedion’s POV. I suspect if SJM let him have a motive and personality outside of worshiping Aelin, he;d be a good character.

[Lysandra] had used these weeks of travel to try out new forms: birds, beasts, insects that had a tendency to buzz in his ear or bite him. Rarely —so rarely—had Lysandra taken the human form he’d met her in.

I love Lysandra. That is all.

[Aelin]’d grown quieter the farther north they’d traveled. Perhaps weeks on the road had sapped her. After tonight, depending on what the lords reported, he’d try to find her a quiet place to rest for a day or two before they made the last leg of the trek to Orynth.

Again, had this been any other characters, it’d be sweet of him to know his cousin so well that he knows when she’s tired and want her to rest. But like, Aedion’s entire character revolves around Aelin it’s tiresome.

“Darrow was your uncle’s lover,” he added, stretching his legs out before him. “For decades. He’s never spoken once to me about your uncle, but... they were very close, Aelin. Darrow didn’t publicly mourn Orlon beyond what was required after the passing of a king, but he became a different man afterward. He’s a hard bastard now, but still a fair one. Much of what he’s done has been out of his unfading love for Orlon—and for Terrasen. His own maneuvering kept us from becoming completely starved and destitute. Remember that.” Indeed, Darrow had long straddled a line between serving the King of Adarlan and undermining him.

Oooo, a LGBT character! Very nice! However, from that description of Darrow being a supposed bastard, I’m worried he might be the villain. Which wouldn’t be a problem if there were other LGBT characters, but since Darrow is the only confirmed one that comes to mind at current, this might turn out bad.

The flames pulled apart like drawn curtains to allow [Evangeline] and Fleetfoot, sensing the child’s fear and pressing close, passage to an inner ring that would not burn her. But would melt the bones of their enemies.

Um, why is that a fragment? Shouldn’t the phrase read, “(...) passage to an inner ring that would not burn her, but would melt the bones of their enemies”?

So they are startled by the arrival of a messenger and Rowan puts a knife to his throat. I’d understand if he did this until the messenger tells them who he is, but seriously? Keeping a blade at the guy’s throat? He’s the messenger of the people you want to be allies with!

Even as Rowan nudged him forward, that cruel knife still angled at his throat. Aedion jerked his chin at Rowan. “He can’t very well deliver the message with a blade at his windpipe.”

Lmfao it literally takes Aedion pointing this out for Rowan to chill out.

Her magic simmered in response. And that [amulet]—that hideous power hanging between her breasts—seemed to open an ancient eye at all the commotion.

Again, a nit pick, but why is SJM so fascinated with the amulet being between Aelin’s breasts? It seriously takes away from the impact of the sentence, which is trying to make the amulet sound dangerous but all I can think about is the amulet squished between her boobs. It would’ve been better to simply say the amulet around her neck or something.

So the messenger tells them the lords won’t be coming out to the forest, which is honestly understandable. They’re old and can’t travel as well as the younger characters, and it’s raining outside. 

So those were the first two chapters. Well, it isn’t too bad so far, but not great either. Honestly, I’m just weirded out by SJM’s focus on the women’s breasts. If this was an erotica novel, I’d have zero problems with it, but considering this book is supposed to be epic fantasy, it just pulls me out of the story every time it is focused on. But we’ll see if SJM can do better with the next chapters.

[honeyjimsfics]

Deep End

Another installment for Danny and Dash, this one taking place after “A Little Further.���  This is by far the most I’ve written.  Lots of Dash still being a powervers and being very convincing.  Also, I’m exhausted.

Danny let out a grateful sigh as he leaned against his locker.  “I mean, it’s just nice, ya know?  Getting in some quite time with the family gone?”

Tucker smiled, “I can believe that.  Another Ghost-Con, huh?”

He shrugged, “I guess.  This time in Wisconsin.  It’s just a get together of weird ghost fans, both the local and far out variety.  Mom and dad usually go just to try to sell their inventions and get more recognition in the ghost hunting community.”

“There’s a community?”  

“I guess.  Either way, it gets them out of the house for a few days.  Plus, Jazz decided to finally have a sleepover with her friends at their place.  Something about ‘enjoying my youth while I still can.’  Eh, I mostly think she’s just doing it so she has something to write about in her college essays.  So now I get a whole night to myself!”

“Huh, so anything planned for tonight?” Tucker asked.

“Not much, might just veg out, get a couple hours in on DOOMED, maybe order in some food from-”  

“Hey Fenturd!”

Oh no.  Danny’s face winced as he heard the voice.  He knew who it belonged to.  The same guy that turned his knees to pudding.  The same guy who’s face he couldn’t get out his head for a whole week after their last hallway encounter.  The same guy he couldn’t believe that he’d been messing and kissing around with.  He turned around to see Dash Baxter making a path towards him wearing his usual red letterman jacket and jeans.  Danny gulped.  Please don’t do anything weird in front of Tucker.  Come on Dash, don’t be that cruel.  “H-hey Dash,” he replied apprehensively.

“Aw why the long face?  Can’t I see my favorite dork every once and a while?” he asked as he heavily patted Danny’s shoulder.

“Heh heh, yeah...”  Danny said avoiding eye contact.  Jeez, he’s just touching my shoulder, why the hell am I getting warm?

“Now don’t get your panties in a bunch Fenton,” he teased.  “I’m just here to return your sister’s book, she left it at my place when she tutored me last week.”

Danny looked down towards Dash’s hands, there was indeed an algebra book in his grip.  Oh thank god.  “O-oh!  I’ll make sure Jazz gets this back.”

The book immediately fell from Dash’s hands to the floor, slamming to the ground with an emphatic thud.  “Oops, my bad Fenton.  Hahahaha!”  As Dash sidestepped from Danny, he grabbed Tucker’s hat and brought it down on his face.  “Good to see you too Tucker.  Heh!”  Dash then left down the hallway, high-fiving a nearby jock who managed to capture their whole encounter.

Tucker angrily rearranged his hat, “God, what a jerk.  Can’t you just zap him or something?  Just once?”

“No Tucker,” he replied as he picked up the book.  “No ghost powers on humans.  Not even Dash.”  Danny then noticed a bit of paper was sticking out from the algebra book, clearly a scrap from a notebook or something.  Opening the book he realized it was a note.

It was from Dash.

Lamppost at 3:30 sharp.  Don’t be late!

He wants me to meet him after school?  Why?  What?  What??

“What’s that Danny?”

Tucker’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.  “Eh-what?  Oh, uh, just some equations my sister had him do,” he said, closing the book.

“Oh, hah, what, did he get most of them wrong?”

“Ha, yeah.  L-like half of them.”

“Man, your sister has her work cut out for her,” Tucker said as they both began to make their way to class.

“Yup, heh.”  Me too...

The rest of the school day seemed to flutter by in a breeze, Danny being mostly preoccupied by his thoughts of Dash.  What could he even want from me?  Danny quickly turned red and shook his head.  Ugh, besides that.  I mean, there is no way I’m doing anything in front of the school!  Outside!  That’s just, I mean, he would never ask that, right?  As the school bell rang its final bell, Danny gathered his things and headed to the school’s library.  Sigh, might as well catch up on the homework, it’s only 2:30, I got some time.  As he entered the library he quickly settled in a nearby desk, pulling out several papers and books and tried to focus as much as he could at the non-Dash related problems at hand.  Several pencil scribbles and page flips later, he stared in confusion at one particular passage.  Confusingly trying to decipher what the author’s symbolism could be, he glanced at the clock on the wall.  What?!  It’s 3:38?  Shit!  Shoving all his belongings back into his bag he rushed to the front of the school and out to the front steps.  Bursting through the doors he gasped for air.  Scanning the air, he hoped to see no sign of a red letterman jacket.  

He had no such luck.

Danny saw Dash quietly leaning against the lamppost, arms crossed as he stared out towards the street.  Oddly enough, he wasn’t wearing his usual red jacket.  A duffle bag laid at his feet, with one of the sleeves of his jacket peeking though the zipper.  With out the sleeves to cover him up, Dash looked bigger, his arms no longer confined beneath a thick fabric.  Danny let the thought pass and trudged up to the lamppost.  “Uh, hey Dash.”

Dash stared straight ahead.  “You’re late.”

Danny’s stomach dropped, “S-sorry.  I was doing homework in the library and lost track of time.”  He hoped his excuse was reasonable enough.

Dash looked down at him for a moment, his brows furrowed in a knot.  He grimaced, “Whatever Fenton.”  He picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “Come on,” he said behind him as he started to walk away.

Danny just stood there.   “Huh?”

Dash turned around, “What, you need me to hold you’re hand?  Come on already Fenton.”

“But where are we going?”

“My truck, where else?  Come on, I gotta throw my stuff into the back, hate lugging this stuff around,” he said as he shifted the duffle along his shoulders.  “I’m starving, so hurry it up.”

“Uh, ok,” he said, shuffling along side Dash.  Where the hell is this going?  Starving?  Wait, does that mean...  Oh jeez.  The two walked in relative silence as they made their way to the school’s parking lot.  Few cars were around, save for a couple staff cars huddled in a far corner.  Dash’s car seemed to be the only’s student car in the lot. Reaching the truck, Dash clicked open the driver side door, moving the seat aside to shove his duffle bag behind it.  Danny stood silently in front of the hood.  “Umm...”

“Ya know, the doors are open now.  You can go inside,” he said not bothering to look at Danny as he moved his duffle around.

“Oh.  Uh, ok.”  Danny opened the car door and hoisted himself inside.  The truck’s interior was relatively plain and clean, except for the papers and food wrappers scattered on the floor.  Everything else seemed made it seem like a car fresh from the factor except for the little plastic football glued to the dashboard.  Dash hopped into the car and slammed the door shut.  He looked at Danny and said nothing.

Danny swallowed the saliva in his throat, “Um, what are we doing here?”

“What do you think we’re doing, Fenton?” Dash replied, his voice thick with intent.  He swung his arm over the passenger side headrest.  

Danny reddend, “O-oh.  Uh, um...Ok.”  Well, at least you’re sitting down this time.  And it’s sorta private...   Danny reached down and started to unzip his pants.

Dash burst out laughing, “Jeez Fenton!  What, didn’t get enough of my mouth last week?  Man, you should see your face!  Priceless.”

“I-wh-what?” Danny stuttered.

“Relax.  I ain’t gonna have you for lunch again.  Well, at least not here.  Pretty sure I pushed my luck to the limit last week.  Surprised no one caught us with you being so loud.”

“I wasn’t being loud!”

Dash side glanced at him, “Sure you weren’t.  Besides, I told ya I was gonna share with you, right?  So I was thinking of more of a...home meal?”  His smile widened.

“Wha...What?!  You mean your house!?”

“No dork, I mean your house.  My parents are home all the time unless it’s for one of my games.  And the hallway has its charms, sure.  But being able to fuck around with you in your own bed?  Make sure that every time you sleep in it you can’t stop thinking about what you did?  Oh, yeah, definitely your bed.”

The thought of Dash being under his covers, his bed filled with Dash’s scent burned him from the inside out.   “N-no way!  My parents are h-home all the time, just like yours!  What makes you think they wouldn’t notice?”

Dash just let out quite sigh.  “Fenton, I know you’re parents are gone for the weekend.”

Shit.  “H-how did you-”

“Your sister, remember?  She’s been tutoring me and during one of her insanely hard equations, she off handedly told me her parents were gone for the week for something about a weirdo convention and her one chance to regain her youth, or blah blah blah.  Look, either way, your sister isn’t home.  Your parents aren't home.  You’ve got a house all to yourself.”

Darn it Jazz!  “That doesn’t mean I want you to come over!”

The jock let out a groan.  “Really Fenton?  This argument, again?  How many times do we have to do this?  How many times do we have to make out in the hallways?  How many times do I have to experience you sticking your tongue down my throat first and swinging your little arms my neck?  How many times do I have to have your cock down my throat and you clearly pushing my head down to the frigging base?”  

Danny shut his eyes.  You don’t have to describe it like that...

Dash cupped Danny’s cheek with his hand.  It was rough and warm.  “You want me.  Just as badly as I’ve been wanting you.”

“Dash, you, you want me?”  Is he really saying these words?

The jock let his hand drop and sighed.  “It’s been a long freaking week Fenton and I have been dying to kiss you and push you up against the lockers again.  But we were pretty wild last time.  Figure a couple of days to get your breath would be good.  Gotta say, I’m pretty pent up.  Pretty sure you are to.  Seen the way you’ve been fidgeting in the hallways every time you see me.”

“Well, what do you expect?  It’s not like I can act calm around you anymore.”

“Ha, exactly!  I can’t either!  I just keep wanting more and more with you and I know for damn sure you do to.  That’s why you have a golden opportunity here Fenton.  So what do you say?  Want an after school snack?” Dash smirked.

Danny winced.  Ugh, he’s so awful.  But...Is it that bad to really just admit that I really having sex with him?  He looked towards Dash, his eyebrows were raised as if he already knew the answer.  To just let go and admit I want this jock of an asshole...ugh.  I can’t believe myself.  Danny let out a long sigh and looked out his window.  “I guess some...food wouldn’t be too bad right now.”  God, I really shouldn’t have said that, that was way too cheese-

Dash suddenly clasped Danny’s head in his hands and turned him towards himself.  His lips met Danny’s in a rough grind before pulling apart an inch or two.  “God, I’m so freaking hard right now, you have no idea,” he said in a low growl.  He then returned back to the driver seat and took in a calming breath.  With a twist of his keys, the engine coughed to life.  “Alright then, food at Fenton’s,” he laughed.

Danny coughed, “Um, ok.”

“Oh and Fenton?”  Dash’s voice was soft and quiet.

“Y-yeah?”

He smiled, “Put on your seatbelt loser.  I’m not getting ticket because you’re busy daydreaming about my cock.”

Danny’s face reddened as he scoffed.  He clicked the belt into place, “Jerk,” he said with a chuckle.  Dash just laughed again as they drove out of the parking lot.  

A few red lights later the arrived at Danny’s house, the red bricked building looking as obvious as ever with the ops center jutting out from the top.  Dash parked along the side of the street and turned his car off with a click of his keys.  “Man Fenton, your house still as crazy looking as ever,” Dash commented as he stepped out his truck.  

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before Dash,” Danny quipped as he grabbed his pack and started towards the front door.  He fumbled with his keys for a moment before opening it.   “It’s not much but this is the living roommph!” 

Wasting no time, Dash quickly shut the door behind them and immediately started kissing Danny.  Darting his tongue inside Danny’s mouth, Dash let out a quiet growl as he stepped closer to him, closing the distance between the two to only a few inches.  

Jeez, he sure is in a frigging hurry!  Breaking the kiss, Danny caught his breath.  “Can’t, can’t you slow it down for once?”

“Like I said.  Long week.  Where’s your room?”

“Ahh, it’s um, upstairs.”

“Well then, lead on Fenton.”  Dash eased his grip on Danny’s arms and instead let his hand form a solid hold on Danny’s hand.  

Danny blushed, “Gah, um...”

“God, you are so easy.  Knew this would get you all flustered.  You like that classic shit, huh?  Well, I’ll hold on to your hand and you lead me to your room, how’s that?”

Danny just looked away, “S-shut up.  Come on, it’s this way.”  The jock snickered quietly as the two headed up the stairs.  Danny couldn’t help the stray thought invade his mind.  His hands are really warm.  I mean, I’ve felt them before but this is...nice.  Lord, I’m pathetic.  Dash almost reading his mind gave his palm a light squeeze.  Letting the need to let out a small squeal pass, Danny lead the way to his room’s door.  “Uh, welcome to my room, I guess.”  

Pushing open the door, Dash quietly stepped inside and took in the scene.  A few space posters littered Danny’s wall, beneath which was a simple wire frame bed with a trunk at the foot of it.  A mostly cleared desk was off to the side and despite a few clothing items scattered along the floor the room was clean.  “Not bad, Fenton.  Plain and simple.  Like you.”  

Ignoring the obvious jab, Danny turned around the close the door behind them. “Yeah, thanks for the compliment Dash.  Didn’t think you could be so nice.”  As Danny turned his attention back to Dash, the jock somehow managed to already get on top of his bed without making a single noise.   

He was stretched out on his bed, filling most the space with his large body.  His head leaned against Danny’s pillows which were propped up against the steel bars of the frame.  He let out a sigh as his hand started to grope his cock through his jeans.  Dash lazily glanced towards Danny as he stretched and wriggled into a comfortable position.   “Well, what are you waiting for?  Come and get it.”

Danny gulped.  Seeing Dash taking up so much space on his bed, it made the jock seem so much bigger than he actually is.  The way he laid on his sheets his black shirt had already risen up a bit revealing a light blond treasure trail that disappeared beneath his denim.  Ok, that is way too much for me.  He looks like straight out of some porno or something.  Danny tentatively walked to the side of the bed, considering what he should do first.   Biting his lip and hoping he made the right decision, he let his hand graze and feel Dash’s stomach, each of the jock’s wispy hairs soft the touch.  Dash’s breath came out low and slow as he stared lustfully towards Danny.  I don’t think I’ve ever actually felt him like this before.  Usually my hands are wrapped around his neck holding on for dear life or pressed up against the lockers, I never get a chance to feel what he feels like.  He’s so smooth...  

“For fuck’s sake Fenton, how the hell are your hands so goddamn soft?  Like silk, man,” Dash said through gritted teeth.  The young man let Danny feel his stomach a bit more before becoming a bit impatient.  “That all you gonna do, Fenton?”

“Um... I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”  Really, I hadn’t.  

“Ya know, I think you can get a better feel if you were more like this.”  The jock grabbed Danny by the waist and threw him over himself.  Suddenly, Danny was straddling the young man, his hands on his pecs and Dash’s on his ass.  “See?  You can feel a lot more like this.  Just like I can,” he said as his began to fondle his butt.

Holy crap, I’m on top of Dash Baxter.  He’s in my bed.  He’s grabbing my ass.  How the hell are any of these sentences true?  “Y-yeah, you’re right,” he said absentmindedly.

“Well, come on.  Keep it up.  Feels nice you groping me like this.  Finally getting some in return.”  

Danny’s breath was heavy, he could barely think straight with the well toned jock beneath him.  Get a grip Danny!  Just calm down and go with it.   Steeling his nerves, he did his best to even his voice.  “Dash, can I, um, take off your shirt?”

“Pssh, don’t have to ask me twice.  Go ahead.  Undress me, Fenton.”  Dash’s last words were a mix between a dare and an order.  Danny followed suit.  Gripping the black fabric Danny lifted the young man’s shirt over his head and tossed it to the side revealing a well toned body.  A few years of football and training and some added fine genetics had left Dash’s body in prime condition.  His pecs were full and smooth and his shoulders were well defined, like he was chiseled out of marble.  His nipples were two delicious looking pieces of flesh, both hard from excitement.  Such definition had given him a strong V shape, as if his entire body was an arrow leading straight to his dick.  There was hardly any hair on him save for his fine trail of hair coming from his crotch.  Dash smiled, “Like what you see, Fenton?”

Danny could hardly speak, it was as if his mind was a dial tone at this point.  He simply nodded his head.  He let his hands continue to roam Dash’s chest, feeling every curve and mound.  His fingers brushed up against the jock’s nipples more than once, eliciting a few winces and inhales from Dash.  “Watch it Fenton, you’re gonna get more than you bargained for if you keep that up.”  

Like I’m not already over in my head at this point.   Danny took it as a challenge as he bravely pinched Dash’s nipples, giving each one a gentle twist.  Dash let out a low groan as he shut his eyes and threw his head back.  

“You fucker...” he said with a low growl.  “It’s your turn Fenton.”  Deviously, Dash grabbed the back of Danny’s shirt and hoisted it over his head, pulling him through and tossing the shirt across the room.  

Embarrassed, Danny covered himself with his arms.  “Dash!  Ask first or something!”

“Haha, what?  This is what gets you embarrassed?  You’ve done far worse.  Hell, I’ve done far worse.”

“It’s not that!  It’s just, I’m not as impressive as you,” Danny admitted.  You’re like a Roman solider or something, as if you didn’t already know.

The young man shrugged.  “No you’re not.  Doesn’t mean you aren’t still cute to me.”  Dash propped himself up so Danny was straddling his lap.

Dash reddend at his words.  Cute, really Dash?

“Wow, didn’t think your whole body turns red when you’re embarrassed.  Now that’s cute,” he said as he played with Danny’s butt again.  

“You are the absolute worst,” Danny spat as he wriggled from Dash’s gropes.

“Yeah yeah, I know.  Now come on, you’ve seen me shirtless.  Let me see what I’m working with.”  Danny sighed.  Reluctantly, he let his arms rest at his sides.  Dash let out a small whistle, “Fucking hell Fenton, looking good.  Small, sure, but damn are you smooth.  And sexy.”  Dash let his large hands roam Danny’s chest.  His hands alone almost spanning the whole width.  

Sexy, really?  God, why does his voice have to drop so low when he talks like this, it’s too much.  “You’re just saying that...”

“Am I now?  Would I just say that if I didn’t want to do this?”  Leaning forward and pushing Danny back a bit, Dash took Danny’s nipple into his mouth, flicking it and kissing it in a hungry attack.  

Fuck that feels so weird!  It’s like each lick is going all over my body!  “Dash!  Please, slow it down a bit!  It’s too much!  Ahh!”  Feeling warm and lightheaded, Danny kept on letting out moans with every lick and every twist.  The heat of Dash’s breath kept Danny completely on edge as he let out a warm breath on his nipple before giving it a soft bite.  The slight twinges of pain sending signals straight to his cock saying I want more.

“Heh, told you were gonna get some.”  Letting his hand drift to Danny’s crotch, Dash began to grope him through his denim, teasing and feeling the length of his cock.  “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, huh?”

“Unf, I g-guess you could say that.”  Damn it, his hands feel just as good as last time.  

“Well, can’t let you have all the fun now.”  Reading Danny from his clutches, Dash laid back down on the bed, settling his head on the frame as Danny straddled him once again.  The young man smirked as he unzipped his fly and let his crotch finally meet air.  

Oh fuck.  

HIs cock was securely in place in a white jockstrap, practically bulging from beneath the fabric.  While not entirely hard like Danny, he was clearly at half mast, causing his package to look particularly hefty.  Everything about it seem in proportion, albeit slightly big.  His balls alone seemed like there were barely contained by the underwear.  “It’s my turn Fenton.”

Jeez, does everything on him have to be big? It’s like he has a softball stuffed in there!  Danny could feel his heart race as Dash gazed at him, his eyes telling him what to do.  “You want me to uh, touch you?”  Danny struggled to make sure his voice didn’t crack.

“Yeah, Fenton.  I want you to touch me.  I want you to feel me in your hands.”  Dash’s voice came out soft and commanding, like an enchantment.  

Danny could only obey.  “O-ok.”  Laying himself down between Dash’s thighs, Danny was only inches away from Dash’s crotch.  Ok, ok, calm down you got this.  Dash did this to you and it felt great.  So how hard could it be?  Gulping nervously, began by letting his hands glide up the jock’s thighs.  Dash responded in a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.  So far so good.  Grazing his fingers up to the young man’s crotch, he let his thumbs brush up just behind Dash’s balls.  

“Unf, fuck Fenton.  Knew your hands would feel good there.  Keep on going.”

Hey, maybe I’m not so bad at this.  Feeling encouraged, Danny crept closer to Dash’s cock and groped it with his hands.  He could feel the heat emanating from it and the pure heft of it in his palm, it made Danny whimper with lust.  

Dash just let out a quick huff and smiled, “Fucking finally.  Like that feel, Fenton?”

Danny nodded diligently as he placed a small kiss on the cock just before giving it a slight lick.  While the fabric of the jockstrap was rough against his tongue, he could not deny the excitement building up in his chest.  Millions of thoughts were running through he mind at that moment but only one seemed to stand out among them.  

I really want to see his cock.

Giving in to his lust, Danny pulled aside the jockstrap freeing the cock beneath.  While the same length as his own, it was easily twice as thick with a pair of balls to match.  The head was a nice light pink color and it already had a small drop of pre coming at the tip.  Let his thirst overwhelm him, Danny pressed his face along the length of Dash’s cock, breathing in Dash’s scent and letting his tongue lap at his balls. 

“Holy fuck, Fenton!  Didn’t realize how fucking hungry you were.”  Dash then placed his hand on Danny’s head, his fingers running through his hair.  “Though this isn’t a bad look on you, I gotta say.”

That feels...oddly nice.  Comforting, even.  Relishing the moment, Danny moved his attention from the jock’s balls to his dick.  Brushing his lips along the length, Dash tensed from his touch.  He then trailed his tongue from one side to the other, lapping up the precome that was already leaking from earlier.  It coated his mouth with a slightly salty film, but it only made him want more.  Dash was now fully erect, his cock laying stiffly along his stomach.  Gripping it slightly, Danny began to stroke the young man, his other hand gently playing with his balls.  Dash moaned in response, grinding his hips in time with Danny’s strokes.    Seeing him feeling so good, it feels...rewarding somehow?  Like, I want him to feel good.  I want to know that I’m the one who makes him feel like this.  Is this what he felt last time?  After a few more strokes, Danny began to lick at the head of Dash’s cock, squeezing out a few more drops of precome in the process.  Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, Danny took the head into his mouth, guiding it as best he could with his tongue.

“Fuck that’s warm.  Feels real nice, Fenton.  Real nice.”  Dash’s body seemed to completely relax in Danny’s hands, as he settled into the bed more.  

Only taking in a few inches, Danny began to bob up and down, savoring the taste of the young jock as he let his hand make up the rest of the work.  God, does he have to be so freaking thick?  My jaw already is getting sore and it’s only been a few minutes!  Letting it pop out of his mouth for a second, Danny focused on the base, letting his tongue trial a circle following the hairs gracing it.  “Dash...” Danny moaned as he began to touch himself though his pants.   

“Yeah, you like that don’t ya?  The taste of my cock in your mouth, the scent of my crotch?”  Dash’s voice was filled with smugness.  

Danny helplessly nodded his head.  Has me in the palm of his hands, literally.  I don’t think I mind that anymore now.  Taking the cock back into his mouth, continued his motion from earlier, only now trying to take a little more each time.  The furthest it seemed he could take was three inches into his mouth.  

“Come on, Fenton.  I know you can take more than that.  What, need a little encouragement?”  Dash then tightened his grip on Danny’s hair and thrusted forward, jamming his cock down his throat.  He held him firmly in place for a few seconds.  

Danny slapped Dash’s leg repeatedly.  Air damnit!  I need air!  Finally releasing him, Danny gasped and gulped for his breath.  “D-damnit Dash...” 

“Hah!  Need a break already, Fenton?  I was able to deep throat you just fine last time.  What, my cock too big or your skills too weak?  Which is itmmmph!”

Silencing his insults, Danny quickly kissed him causing Dash to taste his own precome which still coated Danny’s mouth.  “You’re such an asshole” he said through gritted teeth.  

Dash smiled, “Heh, yeah I am.  Now how are you gonna shut me up?” he dared.

Accepting the challenge, Danny shimmied the rest his body up to Dash’s chest, resting his legs on either side.  Saying nothing he unzipped his pants and took his cock out from his underwear and presented it squarely in front of his face.  With this, you jerk.

Dash smiled deviously, “That’ll work.”  Greedily, Dash took the cock into his mouth, eagerly slurping it down his mouth.  

The sensations ran all over Danny’s body, his entire being feeling like static.  With every movement of Dash’s head, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.  God, it feels just like last time.  So warm and inviting.  I just wanna go deeper and deeper.  Steeling himself and closing his eyes, he gripped the head frame of his bed and began thrusting into Dash’s mouth.   A muffled “Fuck yeah” escaped from Dash’s mouth before being replaced by more slurping noises.  Dash began to stroke himself as his mouth continued to get fucked by Danny, pre dripping down the side of his cock.  Holding onto the back of Dash’s head, Danny upped his speed, thrusting faster and faster.  Beads of sweat began to fall from his forehead as his body trembled and ached for release.  Barely opening his eyes, he glanced down towards Dash.  His face was flushed with lust as he saw him hungrily take in his cock.  The sight was too much.   “Dash, I’m gonna!  Fuck!”  He let the word hand in the air as he thrusted one last time down Dash’s throat, unloading his come.  He held Dash’s face close to his crotch as felt his cock spasm, once, twice, then finally letting go as the final white rope spurt and filled the young man’s mouth.  “Dash...” he moaned weakly.

Gulping down the cum in one go Dash licked his lips.  “We ain’t done yet, Fenton.  I’m fucking close and you are not missing one drop.  So get back down there,” he commanded.

Still hazy from the release, Danny obeyed and brought himself back to Dash’s cock.  Opening his mouth, he panted as he waited for Dash’s release.

“Here we go, Fenton!  Take it all in fucker!”  Gripping Danny’s head, Dash brought his open mouth right over his cock.  Suddenly, thick white ropes of cum shot from it, spattering Danny’s cheek.  Quickly maneuvering, Danny took the cock into his mouth and it was then thoroughly coated in white.  Pulling him down, Dash thrusted a few times into him, each time another shot of cum.  Danny gulped down what he could before releasing Dash’s cock from his mouth.  He cursed, “Fucking hell, Fenton.”

Exhausted, Danny rested his head in Dash’s lap for a moment.  He looked up at Dash to see him totally lost in bliss.  Huh, not bad for a first time.  Pulling himself together, he brought himself back up to Dash’s face, pausing only for a moment before kissing him.  It seemed to break the young man from his stupor as he laughed.  

“Looks like you missed some.”  He then licked away the shot of cum still on Danny’s face and gave him a small kiss.  “So, what do you say?  You still hungry?”

Danny just laughed as he settled into Dash’s chest, cuddling closer towards him.  He’s still an asshole.  “No, I’m full thanks.  Also, can we drop this metaphor now?  It’s been stupid for awhile.”

Wrapping his arm around Danny’s slight frame, he brought him closer.  “Oh a cuddler, huh?  Figures.  And sure, no more food innuendos.”

“What, what’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing.  Nothing at all,” the young man replied.

Danny scoffed as he nuzzled his face into Dash’s neck, “Well alright then.”  Maybe this isn’t so bad.  Maybe this will be just fine.  The two closed their eyes and shared a moment of exhausted bliss.  Which was then immediately broken. 

“Danny my boy!  We’re home!” Jack’s voice yelled.

Danny’s eyes bursted open.  Shit!  The hell are they doing here so early?!

Dash’s whole body tensed, “Fenton, what the hell.”

“Ghost convention was bust, had to leave early.  Just a bunch of fake ghost researchers in jumpsuits.  But hey, look at this new gadget we made on the way back!”  The voice boomed from below but stomping footsteps up the stairs didn’t make it seem it was staying down there.

Dash was in panic, “Fuck!  Fenton, what are we gonna do?!”

Well, we’re half naked in my bed, our cocks are still out, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing we can do...except...  Swearing a thousands curses in his head, Danny calmly took Dash’s face in his hands.  “Don’t make a sound.”

“Wait, what?”

Danny immediately turned the both of them invisible the second his dad threw the door open.  “Danny!  Huh, he’s not here.  Eh, maybe he’s at Tucker’s.  Jeez, kid needs to clean up in here.  His shirts are just on the floor and it reeks of sweat.  Told him to keep tidy while we were gone.  Ah well.”  Jack then left the room with a slam of the door.   

The two of them kept as quiet as they could as they heard a few pairs of footsteps fall further and further away, presumably into the basement.  Letting their breath go, Danny dropped the invisibility cloaking the both of them.  “That was a close one, huh?”  he said trying to calm the mood.

“Fenton.  Why couldn’t your dad see us?” Dash’s voice was quiet and controlled.

“Um...”

“Fenton, your dad isn’t blind, I know that for sure.  So why couldn’t he see us.”

“Uh...”

“FENTON.”  Dash’s eyes were livid.  

 Well, fuck.  This is gonna be fun. 

[fe14fiction-blog]

Submission: Attempt at Pregnancy Headcannons: Azura & Selena

Hey there! Love your blog and the FE Fates games, so I decided to take a crack at writing some. Lemme know if you think I did any justice to the characters, of which I only use two of in order to work my way up (also, I tend to be a little rambly or wordy - sorry in advance XP)

Mod Lilith: Because it was very long, just to help keep the dashes alright, I put the actual headcanons under a readmore. Thank you for submitting. I am glad you enjoy the headcanons and fics. These are very detailed. You did a great job.

Azura

Motherhood was not something Azura had planned on, what with the issue of Valla hanging over her head. She’s not unhappy about bringing a new life into the world, but she IS anxious about what kind of world is there to meet them.

Azura has a surprisingly big appetite, so one of the things she secretly enjoys about her pregnancy is the free pass to eat her fill without reservation - downing a large ramen bowl in one sitting draws a lot less eyes if you’re expecting (not that she ever cared what others thought of her, but it can still get annoying when people stare; especially strangers). That being said, she balances it out by keeping active with walks and dancing - being able to indulge herself more often doesn’t mean she’s going to let her health and fitness fall by the wayside.

Being a dancer also makes her very aware of changes to her center of balance, so she’s more easily able to notice and compensate for the changes in her weight distribution. Unfortunately, it can also make her hyperaware of her state, which can lead to overcompensation - simply put, she’s much less naturally coordinated than she’s used to, which is harder to deal with if the mood swings are in effect.

Said dancing experience also makes it very disconcerting if she can’t keep track of her footwork. For instance, the day Azura realized she couldn’t see her own toes caused an abrupt burst of tears, and Corrin’s confusion on the subject doesn’t do her any favors.

Azura is used to being reserved, calm and generally in control of her emotions, so the mood swings and potential lethargy are very difficult on her for the first few months before things taper off - especially in regards to her “worst bedhead in the army” issues, which she now has dwindling patience for if she wakes up sick. Corrin’s likewise not used to being the least emotive of the pair, so having to be the couple’s sounder source of stability has a bit of a learning curve.

Azura has singer’s lungs, so it a bit easier for her to move around late-term without getting short of breath. Her calm temperament mixes with this to give a good proficiency in the breathing exercises she does in preparation for labor. 

Azura sometimes sings to her tummy in private, getting easily flustered and embarrassed if anyone sees her - even Corrin, though she gets over it with him easily enough. Interestingly, Shigure and Kana both had different responses to her singing - the former was calmed, if not lulled to sleep by it, while the latter seemed so excited by it that Azura would half-swear the unborn babe was trying to dance to her songs.

Both labors were relatively straightforward affairs, with Azura showing a model calm throughout the process - moreso than Corrin, at least. Actually holding each child brought tears to her eyes, which in turn brought tears to Corrin’s.

Kana sometimes used Azura’s hair as a blanket. That or her hair literally tried to eat her - who knows how it gets so tangled up and tussed about like that.

Selena

Kana was definitely not planned, considering Selena’s time in Nohr was always meant to be temporary. So to say she’s terrified is an understatement, no matter how much she tries not to show it, with Corrin having to make sure she takes it one day at a time.

As always, Selena is pretty insecure about measuring up to her perfect mother - something else she always tries to hide. Thankfully, Corrin can reassure her that she’s got greater experience with positive parental figures compared to him (Garon wasn’t exactly an ideal parent after all).

Having little chill at the best of times, all the annoyances of pregnancy’s first-term are magnified tenfold in Selena’s cause - and everyone is aware of it. The morning sickness and digestive trouble is bemoaned throughout the day, the aches and pains are fussed on throughout the night, the cravings are as fickle as the wind, the mood sings are borderline apocalyptic - and the order these can happen are about as reliable as Setsuna’s memory.

Even when the worst of the symptoms level off, Selena often feels torn on how to feel. On one hand, she hates feeling like an invalid that other people have to take care of and stubbornly insists on doing anything she’s still cleared for on her own. But on the other hand she really enjoys being spoiled and pampered by Corrin (no matter how much she won’t admit it or will complain outwardly about it). 

Already insecure about her body, pregnancy makes Selena even more critical of herself - except with the upscale in her bust-size, even if it mostly temporary. And Gods help you if you so much as suggest she’s forcing the buttons closed around her stomach, because you will be lectured about how said item “clearly still fits.” Even to the very end, she she never stops being annoyed at outgrowing most of her wardrobe.

Thankfully, the above also lead to one of the more enjoyable parts of maternity for her; the shopping sprees, which become both therapeutic and compulsory as she’s hellbent on Kana wanting for nothing - baby clothes, baby toys, baby food, a crib, maternity clothes, accessories for said clothes, clothes and accessories for Corrin to match hers with; you get the idea.

Selena’s competitive streak sometimes comes out whenever she thinks it’s a contest between her and the baby for Corrin’s affections (“If you’re gonna stare at my stomach so much, maybe you should have married IT instead of me!”, for instance, is one of many ill-thought-out lines she may blurt out now and again). There are also more lighthearted instances; if Kana starts kicking, Selena will sometimes push at each spot she feels a kick in what almost approximates a game.

While the childbirth itself had no complications, Selena is not at all prepared for the realities of labor - which results in no small amount of half-crazed rambling, ranging from pleas to gods Corrin doesn’t recognize (“Oh, Naga, please get this kid out of me!”) to vows against ever getting pregnant again, smattered with the occasional curse. All while crushing the hell out of Corrin’s hand while saying things like “Don’t you dare let go”.

Of course, she also apologizes for her frenzied rambling during labor in her roundabout way - which the big softie Corrin accepts - but she does reaffirm on wanting to, at the very least, wait a fair bit before having any more kids; she wants to focus her attention (i.e., love) on the one she has first.

Selena’s number-one priority is to ensure Kana never has to want for anything the way she did in the Grima Timeline - not for food, not for clothes, not for a home and, above all else, not for parents. This means that leaving Kana in the Deeprealms was completely heartbreaking for her (though she would never say so openly) and reuniting with them was hugely overjoying (which she’s a bit more likely to say in private).

[oddyssea-a]

RPC POSITIVITY WEEK DAY 1 & 2

DAY 01: favorite portrayals of a character in your fandom [ Since I’m technically fandomless I’m just gonna do this for muses who fall into the ‘adventure’ category or fall into the ‘Greek Myth’ category uvu ]

@baagha ( Ajay Ghale / Far Cry 4 ): OK! SO listen I’ve only seen glimpses of the Far Cry characters, primarily because I’ve never had the chance to come around and play it myself but from what I have seen of Far Cry 4 & what I’ve heard about the game itself I THOROUGHLY enjoy Ajay ok?? Like it’s always so tough to write muses who are the player controlled character because it could be really tough to make them your own still but I absolutely adore this portrayal. Ajay has a really great personality and he strikes me with that adventurous spirit that I think really fits the Far Cry Franchise ( mostly 3 & 4 as I recall ) and I just love how well Ajay seems to fit into the adventure scene <3. He meshes excellently with Karter and over all he’s an awesome character who I am thoroughly enjoying seeing on my dash

@storyfound ( Elena Fisher / Uncharted Franchise ): I want to first point out that I absolutely LOVE Elena Fisher in literally every sense of the word. She is the kind of character who is still a bad ass but manages to be a relatable kind hearted person. I’ve always enjoyed Elena’s excellent chemistry with the ENTIRE cast of Uncharted and finding someone who does her justice is honestly wonderful. Elena is also amazing because I always believed that motherhood suited her! This portrayal genuinely makes me happy for all the best reasons. Elena maintains her quick wit & skill that made her strong but also manages to capture her more endearing and motherly side without having to sacrifice either one for the other. It’s a wonderful balance and I adore seeing her on my dash to be honest.

@vindictiveolympianqueen ( Hera, Queen of Olympus / Greek Pantheon ): Now HERA is especially wonderful in my opinion because of a GREAT DEAL of reasons. The first of which being that she, I’ve found, is rather under appreciated by general media. Thus far the only two instances I’ve seen her is in the game ‘God of War’ which likely falls more akin to her ACTUAL personality & behavior in Greek Mythos, and then we have Hera from the ‘Hercules’ Movie by Disney which admittedly IS a children’s film thus she’s sorta watered down I feel? Either way, this blog makes me so SO SO Happy because you get the best of both words with this portrayal. She’s got her VICIOUS and ‘vindictive’ side but she’s not just CRUEL like I feel God of War made her, she is still that MOTHERLY figure that we got in Hercules and it really makes her an all around more well rounded muse I think and I thoroughly pleased to see someone giving Hera the justice & attention she deserves :)

@maourljoss ( Apollo / Greek Pantheon ): The thing I’ve always loved about Greek Gods is that with a modern touch on them there’s a lot of creativity to be had especially since MANY gods are often left out of media due to the focus being on a set few! That being said Harley’s interpretation of Apollo is perhaps the only one I’ll EVER really love to be honest considering she maintains a lot of APOLLO as a character while still giving him twists that make him interesting and unique feel to him when writing with him. He feels NEW but still familiar and I think that’s what I honestly love most about him! 

DAY 02: favorite portrayals of a character in another fandom

@seesgood ( Caroline Forbes / The Vampire Diaries ): When I was still into TVD I remember vividly ADORING Caroline for the sole reason that both as a character & as a person she made SENSE! She had valid reasons for many of her reactions and in general she just made more sense to me than some of the other characters in the series ( albeit that was more of a personal opinion than anything ) but LIA does such an amazing job capturing every essence of Caroline right down to the simplest of quirks. Caroline is a genuinely complex and interesting character because she was ‘human’ in MOST senses of the word ( obv she’s a vampire soooo LOL ), but she felt real and Lia is literally ASTONISHING with how well Lia manages to bring all those fantastic elements and even some added ones to give Caroline that same GENUINE feel and I just cannot express how much I love this blog ok!!

@southsidelover ( Toni Topaz / Riverdale ): From the moment Toni Topaz made her first appearance on Riverdale I have ADORED her to absolutely no end. She’s genuinely my favorite character on the show and Z is like some sort of Toni Topaz master since everything about this portrayal SCREAMS genuine true blue Toni. I adore her so much because she’s smart & witty but is a genuinely kind and caring person and stands as a DIRECT antithesis to the idea that the Southside Serpents or South Siders in general are LOWLIFE CROOKS. Toni is the type of character that I would kill to have on EVERY show because she’s so excellent! She has her flaws but she is a genuinely well rounded character who even manages to add representation in a graceful and meaningful way! I LOVE TONI TOPAZ guys seriously like this blog is a fave.

@ofangelicblood ( Jace Herondale / Shadowhunters ): So I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know a whole lot about Shadowhunters ( I could never really get into it whole heartedly tbh ) BUT I am already enjoying this blog thus far! From the convos I’ve had with KC & what I’ve learned about him I am thoroughly enjoying the depth that is being given to him thus far! I really enjoy the sort of internal conflict that seems to come out in each reply, as though he’s fighting an internal battle which always add a sort of extra sense of conflict from the character that makes them a lot more interesting to see / interact with! On top of that his personality is one that staunch & disciplined which is A BEAUTIFUL complement to Karter’s chaotic & otherwise dubiously aligned personality which has made out chats / interactions SO FUN thus far and I absolutely cannot wait for more stuff between us!

[shikuchi-blog1]

oh boy i havent done one of these in a WHILE !  time to ramble & hope for the best.

blah blah hey its ya boi andy here with a whole bias list !!! DANG !! okay so like ??? im surprised that i hit 100 already honestly !! i admit, i'm used to hitting that Hundred(tm) mark pretty quick as i'm usually in bigger communities but in one that's as small as go.rillaz & with a character thats so common ?? i'm shook ! noodl.e has been one of my most productive & strongest muses yet. i'm surprised that ive been so on top of things lately when i've been busy with school & my usual muses die down within two to three weeks. but we're just about to hit that 1 month mark and she's still kicking which is absolutely fantastic. i've had a blast with the friends i joined this community with & with the people i've spoken to along the way. now that we're talking about them , let's start the part everybody actually cares about !!

M'HOMBOS  .  SHORT  /  people ive been talking to often OOC & who i consider friends ! check the bottom for the sappy shit because i RAMBLED abt these 4.

@bassled   /   @fractzure   /   @igninecari   /   @twodented

HEART EYES  .   /   ppl i've spoken to / thread with but i want to get to know better ! ( aka hmu whenever u want bleas ,,,, )

im also throwing m'boos in here that i didnt talk abt bc we dont interact as much on this blog or some other reasons

@nuorii  /  @reallyblah  /  @blackfiire  /  @russeld  /  @kaboooms  /  @wondcrkid  /  @appxssionato  /  @airfcil  /  @riffrcffed  /  @solhearts  /  @iimpious

EYES EMOJI x 100  .   /   people who i've hardly spoken to if at all but would like to eventually interact with more !

@leggystu  /  @bubberu  /  @littlebadger  /  @crackerpaula  /  @starwished  /  @endangcred  /   @cinderella-esque  /  @wargod  /  @teenghcst  /  @halfpact  /  @tankbitch  /  @dirvnitas  /  @gangguro  /  @kitanosuzume  /  @toriiel  /  @scaramouchc  /  @candieds

M'HOMBOS  .  LONG   /   under the cut because i wanna RAMBLE.

@bassled  .

I LOVE REN SM. she's literally my best friend i've known her for about 6-7 years & she's absolutely fantastic ok this entire fuckin bias list could be just her but im gonna try not to write an essay on how much i love her. she's been there for me for so long & the fact that she isnt tired of my petty ass yet deserves a damn award. i admire her a lot. this dude goes through so much shit irl and i'm amazed that she's still doing as well as she is, even if she doesnt realize it. if i was in her position i wouldn't even be writing let alone doing everything that she does. & boy her m.urdoc ?? is so good ?? i love him sm and its not me being biased BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY her muds is so fuckin good. ren isnt the most active, sure, but whenever she is i always stop to read her posts because i just !!!! love her sm !!!! she makes murd.oc realistic & makes him more human. she doesnt just focus on him being abusive or an asshole or gross but she definitely doesn't dismiss it either. she's so good at analyzing every little movement he does and turning it into something more and i just !!!! if i keep going this gonna go on for years just know that i love ren a lot :^}

@fractzure  . 

squidy's ugly ok moving on

JK FJKH no but actually !! ive known squidy for a hot minute too. we've been friends for a good few years now ( met on a .... fucgkign minec.raft server................. ) and i love them sm !!! every call that we have inevitably turns into a shitfest where we're wheezing our asses off. i may get on their ass every second & try to roast them for every little thing but its mostly because i just love their reactions and i love talking to them in general ??? and im petty but we're not talking abt that rn LMAO. but yea squidys such a fun person to hang out with & i appreciate talking to them lots !! and even though theyre not the most active either, i love what they have of their 2.D so far and i cant wait to see more of him once summer starts because i really like squidy's writing and im suuuper excited for that. also theyre making a russ.el probably and im.... so gay...... our thread rn is cute af and we gotta talk more abt them Um Squidy Hmu Bit.

on a final note; Ooga My Booga Is A Social Construct.

@igninecari  . 

i love !!! bones !!!! i havent known them for long, only a few months maybe, but talking to them every day has been a blast and our convos are usually filled with Chaotic Plotting and us talking over each other and its just. Gr8. we originally met on our a.va's dem.on blogs and i remember loving her m.aggie so fuckin much dude everything she said abt her was so !!! dang !!! good !!!! and even now with her emb.er & her ecla.ir i can see how much care & thought she puts into all of her muses. dude even thinks into their family and develops those characters which makes everything SO MUCH MORE REALISTIC. her writing is a joy to read also ?? its so pretty i love how she describes everything and i love all of the little references she sticks into her descriptions that fit her characters perfectly. im glad i dragged them into g.orillaz hell w/ me because we've got such a good thing going on w/ em & noods it makes me so happy !! also callout for bones WE GOTTA THREAD SMTH ASAP OR IM SPAMMING ASKS

@twodented  .

KIT IS AN ANGEL. i've only actually spoken her for maybe ??? two ?? three weeks ??? but we hit it off super quick and shes such a nice & supportive person ! i believe we first followed each other on our a.vas d.emon blogs but, seeing as we were both the same character, we never really approached each other 'til joining g.orillaz. i am so glad we actually started talking bc BOI !!!! I LOVE HER !!! she's so fun to talk to & to plot with. we'll just throw lil concepts at each other every once in a while and its Gr8. and !! her 2.d is so fuckin spot on let me tell u she's one of the ppl that, when i see her on the dash, i stop and read her writing even if it isnt for me because im so gay for her writing style. its so descriptive and eloquent and i love the way she formats ! i feel like she does his dialogue perfectly every time because its never been hard to understand for me but it still reads in his voice in my head which is (ok emoji x20). her hcs are a joy to read & i just !!! dont get me started on what we've talked about for 2.d and noodle im SO FUCKIN HEART-EYES FOR REALLY CLOSE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS AND THEY GOT ME SO EXCITED TO REPLY TO EVERYTHING ?????? PLATONIC 2N.U IS MY SHIT.  tl;dr i love kit & i love kits 2.d sm,,,,,