#ANYWAY the only thing i can figure out how to borrow from the library is non-fiction because i legit cannot process fiction choices there

[b-blushes]

can't wait to be well enough to leave the house more freely i NEED to go to the LIBRARY!!!!!! >:(

[escapismblue]

literally blame @neometalsilver for this but here’s how fucking unwell I am about Sonic being Tails’ parental unit.

context: this is using my own timeline of the games/headcanons so yeah. if shit doesn’t register as canon refer to that.

ANYWAY-

Sonic just found a kid when he was 11 while living in the woods and took him in because what was he supposed to do? he’s not a social person, he doesn’t know how to keep friends, but that’s a kid. a scared kid that needs someone to look after him. he doesn’t think he’ll do a great job, but he has to at least provide the kid food and safety. at least until he can figure out what’s best for the kid.

he’s lucky Tails is a genius and can already read and write because he can’t talk. he doesn’t want to. the sound reverberates in his head and makes him sick he can’t talk. Tails is okay with that though. he reads whatever Sonic hastily writes on paper and he learns sign language faster than Sonic had.

food’s already tight. it’s hard to scavenge and Sonic can only steal so much food without locking himself out of every town or village on the islands. he’s already malnourished as hell himself and now he has to find more food.

Sonic eats even less. he has to. Tails is 4, Sonic is 11. he can deal with less food. Tails is growing and even though Sonic can’t run as much because he’s so tired. his metabolism eats through whatever food he manages to eat for himself. his body hides it though. he looks fine and Tails is looking better and the kid is okay and that’s. enough.

Mighty and Ray meet up with Sonic again and Mighty sees Tails and He Knows. because that’s what he did. Sonic doesn’t know what to do when Mighty gives him a look that’s knowing because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he sure as hell didn’t know he and Mighty were still friends because he doesn’t know what friendships even are.

Sonic doesn’t understand people. he never has. he doesn’t trust people all that much. he can work with people when necessary but that’s… that’s all. people are scary and cruel but god there’s this kid that’s looking up to Sonic and maybe. maybe he should try and believe the world is good because he wants things to be good for his kid.

his kid?

the kid. he’s taking care of Tails but he’s not…

he “borrows” books from the library to read them. to teach himself about the world he’s bared himself from. he reads all the lessons kids are taught. he learns how the world works and then teaches Tails and sure he could just give the kid the books because god the kid is smart but he needs Tails to believe that he is capable.

Sonic needs to prove to Tails that he is reliable. that he’s gonna be there and get them out of whatever they get into. or whatever Robotnik forces them into.

he will do what he has to.

but he’s so scared. he’s not used to people relying on him or being attached to him. he’s so scared of that attachment he wants to run he has to be alone, alone is safe but Tails is there and he’s sleeping and he’s cuddled up to Sonic and Sonic cannot and will not be like the cruel adults that exist just to make his life worse.

when Sonic 2 happens he’s so proud of how capable Tails is. he’s not that nervous, Tails is doing great. sure, he doesn’t love Tails being dragged into stuff like this but it’s okay. it’s okay because Sonic will always be there to take the hit if Tails doesn’t dodge in time. and that’s fine. he’s a kid and learning. he can be clumsy. Sonic’s sturdy anyway.

when they meet Knuckles, Sonic is glad that the echidna seems to take a liking to Tails as a sort of older brother figure and it reassures Sonic that Tails would still have someone. Knuckles is not like Sonic, he is not going to take care of Tails like he does, but he's a protective figure, Sonic doesn't have to worry as much if he needs to be alone. which god he does. his skin is itching.

he loves Tails but he is itching to run.

when they move away from the islands, Sonic is quick to make sure Tails has shelter. he forges whatever he has to so that everything can be in Tails' name. both house and workshop. all of it. they're Tails', not Sonic's. Sonic can't have a house. he's been living in the woods so long that living in a house is so scary to him. he can't.

not yet.

when Shadow dies, Sonic mourns. death is not a foreign concept to him, but Shadow's sacrifice strings. Tails falls ill not long after and Sonic takes care of him. Tails has a high fever and in his delirium calls Sonic dad.

dad.

dad.

Sonic is aware of his own mortality, he almost died when he was 8/9. Shadow's death doesn't make him realize he will die someday, but it along with that keyword makes Sonic realize that when he dies he will be orphaning a child. his death will affect other people. he's not just some kid in the woods anymore. Tails will mourn like he does when he does.

Tails will be alone again when Sonic dies.

it doesn't matter how many of Sonic's friends take on a role in Tails' life, Sonic will be abandoning the kid in death. the thing he promised himself he wouldn't do. but what can he do? he's going to die young. it's only a matter of time.

he weeps amongst the trees. he is helpless to do anything besides prepare the kid.

things go on as normal. more adventures, more fights, more injuries, more fussing. it’s as normal as it can be. and sure maybe in the back of Sonic’s head he’s constantly trying to prepare Tails for when his only parent is going to leave him, but it’s minor. it’s fine.

when Sonic finds Emerl on that beach he knows the feeling that fills his heart. he knows that he’s gone from one kid to two.

everything about raising Emerl is rushed and a little different, but Sonic’s never had a normal experience raising a kid. weird is his home base.

there are a couple moments that get Sonic’s anxiety pumping. when Eggman says he has both Emerl and Cream hostage Sonic can feel the fear fill his veins, but of course Emerl gets both himself and Cream out of the situation. that’s his kid.

and it warms Sonic’s heart when he sees Emerl and Tails interact. something about Emerl brings out the childlike qualities of Tails and it’s endearing and so so heartwarming.

but nothing stays good forever.

Sonic had a choice. the world or his child. it wasn’t fair. but he couldn’t let Emerl destroy the planet. if only because he couldn’t force Emerl to deal with that amount of guilt. that wouldn’t be something the robot could live with. he prayed that he would be lucky and that Emerl would survive but…

“This was Gerald's final program... Should a weapon go out of control, the weapon will terminate itself...”

stupid fucking Gerald programming a self-destruct into a being with thoughts and feelings. stupid fucking Eggman gloating as if he won. as if this was something this was something to celebrate. stupid fucking Robotniks. stupid fucking world.

he didn’t regret the burning hot rage that took his over. he didn’t regret regret breaking Eggman’s jaw. he didn’t regret letting the dark energy blind him. he was blinded by tears anyway.

and god, Tails sounded like such a kid when he asked if Emerl would come back if the world was peaceful and Sonic couldn’t crush a kid’s hopes. especially not his own. his only. Sonic could barely keep it together as he agreed with Tails.

he made Tails stay the night at Vanilla’s house, too heartbroken to comfort the kid. tomorrow. he would do it tomorrow. when he had time to grieve on his own first.

turns out grieving was fighting with Shadow until they were both crying. Shadow lost his last connection to the Ark and Sonic? Sonic lost just about the worst thing he could’ve.

it wasn’t fair.

Sonic didn’t mean to be so much more protective of Tails going forward, hell of any kid he interacted with, going forward he just… he could deal with a lot of things. he had been through hell and back. pain was something he had learned to accept as part of his life. hell, maybe part of him would be lost without it. but he couldn’t lose Tails. for god’s sake if he was doomed to an early grave why was it so damn hard to have his kids outlive him?

he noticed Tails starting to doubt himself and that’s the last thing he wanted, Tails was so much better than him in so many ways, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t get over his fears.

was having Tails alive more important than him having a good self-esteem? Sonic was so lost. he had no frame of reference. Sonic had never had parents. no one to look after him. to show him what to do or what not to do in raising his own. he wanted Tails alive but he didn’t want Tails to have a miserable life. how was Sonic supposed to show Tails that he was more than capable without risking the kid’s life?

he didn’t know.

he tried but everything kept getting worse and Sonic didn’t know what to do and-

6 months of torture gave him plenty of time to think. too much time, really.

Sonic thought about plenty of things. but his mind always went back to golden fur and blue eyes. was Tails okay? sure, Sonic ran away a lot to do his own things, but never this long. had anyone taken up on taking care of Tails? did Tails blame himself? he shouldn’t. he’s just a kid.

safe to say he was not happy when he heard that Tails was missing when he got back. he was already upset with his boyfriend, and now his kid was just alone in an active war zone. Sonic knew Shadow had probably watched the kid from a distance but that wasn’t enough. Tails was 12 for fuck’s sake!

Sonic kept up the smiles, of course he did, but it only reinforced that Tails would be alone when Sonic actually passed and that… maybe Sonic was more mad at himself than anyone else.

or maybe the cruel workings of Fate. but no… that couldn’t be it. Sonic had defied fate before. but…

he didn’t know what he was mad at anymore. it didn’t matter.

Tails was in his arms again and maybe, just maybe, Sonic would teach Shadow about parenting.

just in case.

[shipcestuous-two]

How I Live Now

At long last, I finally managed to borrow my library’s copy of How I Live Now. I read your thoughts on the movie ages ago, but I haven’t seen the movie myself. So here’s my thoughts on the book!

First of all, shipping aside, I love Daisy’s narrative voice. She feels so much like any normal 15-year-old girl–mostly concerned with herself and her friends/family, compared to what’s going on on a nationwide/global scale–and so it makes for a really unique experience with the events of the novel. It feels a lot realer for that reason. Like, “sure there’s a war going on. I am concerned with hanging out with my English cousins and being without adults for the first time in my life and smooching a cute boy every chance I get (who also just happens to be my cousin). Also we have a kind of psychic soulmate connection.” You know, just normal teenager stuff. Except the last bit.

You mentioned that in the movie, there’s no commentary on “this is wrong, we’re cousins, we can’t” and how refreshing that is. The book is similar enough to that. There’s maybe a few mentions of how society would frown on it, but it’s not just the cousins thing. Daisy reflects that people would maybe be unhappy with her and Edmond hooking up every chance they get because they’re “too young and too related,” as if them being 15 and 14 respectively is just as much an issue as them being first cousins. It doesn’t seem to bother either of them on a personal level, just a vague background realization that other people wouldn’t like it.

(And of course, Piper and Isaac–2 of Edmond’s siblings/Daisy’s other cousins–are aware of it and don’t care. Piper is quite encouraging of it! We love her for this.)

Also, it subverts the usual incest trope of “this is only happening because we’re in a screwed up situation.” There are sparks between them from the second they lay eyes on each other. Sure, the situation probably speeds up the process of them getting together, but that’s more because they’re without adult supervision. It happens before the war stuff gets really bad, so it’s basically just the expected result of leaving two teenagers who are attracted to each other alone unsupervised (except by one’s oft-absent and barely-older brother).

Speaking of the attraction at first sight–I think you mentioned that in the book, Isaac is younger than Edmond? In the book, they’re twins, and other than their eye colors, they’re basically identical. Which I feel makes the Daisy/Edmond attraction more special. She isn’t just attracted to him because he’s handsome, or else she’d be hot for both the twins. She falls for Edmond because of how caring, attentive, and special he is as a person.

Even if they’re so young, it’s clearly not a fleeting crush. As evidenced by the fact that, even when Daisy is forced back to America for 6 whole years, she never finds anyone else, and vice versa. They’re still thinking about each other, imagining a future together, until at last, England finally opens its borders again and Daisy can finally come home to Edmond and the others.

You also compared the two to Katniss and Peeta from The Hunger Games, and that’s a really good comparison. Even if Daisy starts as an everygirl, she grows into a survivor–she keeps being jerked around by adults with power over her, but still moving forward and living on for the boy she loves and her little sister figure (more on Piper in a bit). And Edmond is so insightful and too kind-hearted for such a terrible war, and those events and being separated from Daisy break him apart. But in the end, they help put each other back together again, falling right back into place even after 6 years apart. It’s a wonderful love story that I’d ship even if they weren’t cousins, but they are and that makes it even more special!

Anyway, if Daisy is Katniss, then her youngest cousin Piper is her Prim. They’re cousins by blood, but become sisters by circumstance (Piper directly says Daisy is the sister she always wanted–not to mention, they’ll also be sisters-in-law one day). Their relationship is the focus of half the novel, when Edmond and Daisy are separated, and their bond is so sweet.

I do feel weird shipping it since Piper is 9 and Daisy is 15, and even at the very end, Piper is only 15. But I can at least see Piper as having a one-sided crush on her cool older cousin who’s always looking out for her. I mean, could you blame her?

And thankfully, unlike a certain other series we’re paralleling, they both survive. A really touching line near the end of the book is when Daisy says, “By saving Piper, I saved myself.” If Daisy had been alone, she probably couldn’t have kept going, but she had Piper to take care of. Piper to keep her pushing forward, to keep her occupied and keep her spirits from sinking too low. Neither of them could have survived without each other.

Even when they haven’t seen each other in 6 years, they also fall right back into the same sisterly dynamic when they’re finally able to meet again, even if Daisy also doesn’t recognize her at first, with how much she’s grown (I feel like it’s a deliberate choice by the author to make Piper now the same age as Daisy was when the events started, but that’s not relevant here). Piper has been forced to take on the role of an adult far too young, just like Daisy and Piper’s brothers did, and it sucks but at least now, she can have Daisy back for support.

Also adding to the Prim parallel, I love how Piper and Daisy’s personalities are different but complement each other well. Kind of like Prim, Piper is simultaneously the sweetest human being ever (especially in her narrator relative’s eyes) but also wise beyond her years, serious and devoted to taking care of other people. Her kindness endears people to her and Daisy, even when Daisy is more aloof. And even if Piper is young, she’s always looking out for people just like Edmond.

(The siblings’ relationships–while we don’t see as much of them–are still compelling in themselves, and if not for Daisy, I’d probably ship at least one pair of them. They’re sweet and have a lot in common. Not to mention that one spoilery thing where Isaac and Edmond disagree on whether to leave the group they’re with and fight for what’s apparently the first time ever, and it’s really difficult.)

sorry to talk at such length. I planned this to be half the length, but I just finished the book and I have so many thoughts. It’s a quick read, yet it has quite a lot to say. Even without the shipcest, I’d give it five stars, but the fact that we get a Katniss/Peeta-esque love story between cousins–and it’s never really viewed as an issue!–makes it incredible. Six out of five stars from me.

I was just looking up on the movie and a couple more changes: Isaac lives in the book. and also, I mentioned the 3 siblings have an oldest brother Osbert who's 16. I do see why they cut the latter from the movie for time--he isn't that relevant--but I don't know how I feel about the movie making the choice to kill Isaac. Maybe just to intensify Daisy and Piper's despair? but killing one twin (as they are in the book) is always too mean for me

--

[my movie commentary]

Thanks so much for sharing all of these thoughts with us and giving us a book report on the ships. It’s always really interesting to learn about the book, and differences and such. Sounds like a good read and what we like about the movie is in there. 

The sisters/cousins relationship between Piper and Daisy is really sweet, too. 

What a treasure this story is.

[motownfiction]

school bag

Sam’s school bag doesn’t look like Sadie’s.

Mom evaluates them everyday on the first day of school, even now that they’re going into their senior year. Sam wants to roll his eyes. You’d think with their eighteenth birthday looming, with their married best friends down a few streets, and their general trustworthiness, she wouldn’t have to inspect them like this. But she does it, anyway. Amazing what a little power trip can do for you.

Every year, it’s pretty much the same. Sadie packs all the books she needs for all of her classes that day, a plastic water bottle, and an apple in case she gets hungry at her locker. She’s perfect. She’s perfect, and Mom gives her a pat on the head to tell her so, sometimes literally.

Sam’s school bag does not tell the same story.

He hasn’t figured out how to get his textbooks yet. He usually borrows from Will or Daniel, whichever one he isn’t in class with during that period. Instead, Sam carries his subjects differently.

English is Dire Straits, Making Movies. No better understanding of Romeo and Juliet.

Math is The Exciting Wilson Pickett. No numbers more important than “634-5789.” Jenny and Tommy Tutone can both eat it!

Science is Sam Cooke, The Man Who Invented Soul. He might not know much about biology, but he knows enough. So does Sam. Just ask Steph.

He has the nerve to say that last one out loud in front of his mother. He deserves the daggers she’s staring at him now, but they are so sweetly worth it.

“I don’t know why you won’t just take your education seriously,” Mom sighs, still rifling through Sam’s school bag. “After that meeting with the professor in Ohio, who said you had more potential than some of her senior students … I don’t know why you wouldn’t take that to heart.”

“I tried to take it to heart, but I think I have a murmur,” Sam says.

Mom rolls her eyes. Typical. Even when he’s funny, it’s wrong. She pulls out the only book in Sam’s bag and shakes her head at it.

“And what’s this?” she asks, holding up his copy of Things Fall Apart. “I know this isn’t one of the required books for your English class this year.”

“No, it’s not,” Sam says. “You know my system.”

Mom scoffs a little.

“How could I forget?” she asks. “You do all the reading a year in advance, which actually puts you behind the other students, who are reading it fresh.”

“That’s how it seems to you. Anyway, I’m still getting a head start. I talked to Lucy’s mom, and she said she likes to assign this in freshman lit courses. Like college.”

Mom’s eyes light up a little bit.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re going to college?” she asks, too much hope in her voice.

But Sam just shrugs.

“It’s my way of saying I’m interested in what they read,” he says. “I’m less interested in shelling out all that money for classes when I can just walk into a library and read for free.”

Mom probably doesn’t need to look that devastated, but she can’t help herself. Sam understands that by now.

“All your potential,” she mutters. “All your potential, stuck in between cardboard and vinyl.”

Sam grins from ear to ear, and only part of him really means to smile.

“I know,” he says. “Isn’t it great?”

(part of @nosebleedclub september challenge -- day v! yes, i am a week behind. this is what happens when i go back to work)

[staghunters]

hey hey! 2, 8, 12, 14

hoi hoi!

2. Oldest book you own (as in the one you received earliest in your life)

This one!

I got it from my grandpa one pakjesavond (sinterklaas/the dutch boxing day) when I must've been around 8 years old? I can recommend it, though it is very much a children's book in that there is a lot of exposition that feels overdone at times. Still, it's got "fairy tales are real but a bit fucked up in this world", fairies with double agenda's, sibling love, a shapeshifter who's definitely queer in some way shape or form!!, and the main character is basically like an Indiana Jones but for fairy tale artefacts (hijinks included) on the background is this large-scale political conflict that makes it all very witcher-y.

You might know this author from Inkheart, btw! This one has also been translated into english.

8. Best cover

A tie between these two!

I got them both last year on my bday credit at the store and haven't read either of them, but they look very nice. The Bale one is a hardcover that has gold details, but just the whole composition of it all is perfect.

12. Weirdest book you own

Definitely "The making of The African Queen, or, How I went to Africa with Bogart, Bacall, and Huston and almost lost my mind" by Katherine Hepburn.

I couldn't get it anywhere physically except as an second-hand library edition from the states (shoutout to Boston Baptist College Library!) but read it beforehand on internet archive because you can borrow it there for free! It's just a personal account of making a movie, but Katherine Hepburn is hilarious. It really reads like you're sitting with her and she has to vent about this stupid flick she did but wowza. Please let the following passage convince you to check it out. The full thing is only 150~ pages long.

14. A book you love but wouldn’t really recommend to others

HEX by Thomas Olde Heuvelt! (I don't have the cover below but really like it so ordered it at work just now asjdkfhlsd)

It was review bombed big time on Goodreads. On some points I could see the validity, but there's something really cool going on in here but that either doesn't translate well cross-culture, or is in general a bit ambiguous. The climax and ending is WILD. Not in a way of "wow some crazy fucked up shit happens here", which it kinda does, but I'm talking fucked up like a Hieronymus Bosch painting, and not like SAW.

I believe Olde Heuvelt did change some things to make it more understandable for american audiences, while sticking close to what he meant in the dutch version. Putting the town in the Hudson Valley as opposed to somewhere near Nijmegen makes sense, but still doesn't cover the typical "dutch small town" feeling from the original, particularly because of how densely populated my country is, making the whole curse that confines you to your super small old town forever till you die thing a lot more frustrating when everything modern and big is within a half hour drive.

Anyways, if you'd still want a rec: A town (name might vary but it's called Black Spring in the american edition) is haunted by the figure of a 17th century witch. the gist of her curse is that anyone who stays in the town for too long or is born there will have to stay till they die, only being able to leave for short amounts of time. Over the years there's been a sort of witch-watch task-force that keeps track of the witch's movements (she otherwise doesn't really do anything). All goes well until some teen boys want to fuck around for a nice video to post online.

Bookish Asks

[timbrrwolfe]

Alright I'm /pretty/ sure I already talked about part of this on here (unless it's sitting in my drafts which is also very possible) but I figured I may as well expound on what I was alluding to in the tags of this post.

So in 6th grade I had a habit of forgetting my pencil. Because I had a habit of forgetting a lot of things. Because I had undiagnosed adhd. So, when i was in need of a pencil, I'd sometimes have to borrow one from a teacher. And my homeroom teacher had a policy of requiring collateral when borrowing stuff (which like. Fair enough if he's paying out of pocket for stuff). And in one of those instances I used the book I had out from the school library (Goosebumps: Why I'm Afraid of Bees iirc) as collateral. And then promptly forgot to return the pencil. And somewhere in my kid brain which was terrified of getting in trouble for things, I thought something along the lines of "Oh no, now that book is gonna be out forever and I'll have to pay *gasp* a fine or even for the entire book, I can never use the library again." Which was followed up (at some point) by my bad habit of losing my keys leading to someone finding them and using the library card on them to borrow a bunch of stuff they never took back (including, ironically, a goosebumps dvd we already owned and, for some reason, some book on Hitler). So I stopped using the library nearly as much for a while.

Anyway, in 8th grade I got into a situation that was a confused mess. At my lunch table we were doing some banter, and I was just staring to get comfortable in jumping into these situations (because, as it turns out, I also had undiagnosed autism. Which also explains a lot). Unfortunately, in this particular instance, I made a(n admittedly convoluted) jab at someone that essentially boiled down to calling them ugly. Something along the lines of "your face is like a car crash. Horrifying but I can't look away". Except that instead of my intended target, one of the girls at my table thought I was talking about her and started SCREAMING obscenities at me. At which point I just kinda put my head down instead of like. Trying to explain the situation or any other kind of response. So, because there had been enough of a scene made that the rest of the cafeteria went silent, the teachers on duty naturally came over to find out what happened before fists started potentially flying. And so after some discussion in which I did nothing to defend myself, I ended up getting punished. By....being forced to sit on the outer edge of the cafeteria instead of with friends at the table. But the confusion doesn't end there, no no. See, the teacher (who had been a teacher I'd had) had me pick a number between 1 and 10. And I chose 7. So I had to spend 7 days on...The Perimeter. Except that I wasn't...entirely sure whether that 7 days counted the rest of that lunch period or not. And it was a Friday so that completely threw off my understanding of how long my punishment was going to last. As a bonus, it turns out the punishment wasn't much of one. I didn't mind being on my own, and I even got to get up and get my lunch whenever I wanted, instead of waiting until it was my row's turn to get up and get food. So I just...stayed there for the rest of the year for lunch (at least, when I didn't have "lunch detention" for being late. Which was mostly only a punishment because it limited what I was allowed to eat because for some reason they only let lunch detention kids get the daily hoagie option? I dunno, it was a very strange system. Also, I digress).

My point in this whole story is that if I hadn't gotten spooked out of going to the library (both in-school and public) I probably would've read WAY more books sitting on The Perimeter for lunch for however long the rest of the year was. But instead I was mostly reading gaming magazines and game guides. Which, as an aside, I almost got more out of than playing the games themselves, depending on the game and guide in question. Like, Golden Sun was a pair of RPGs and (thanks to the aforementioned undiagnosed adhd) I did not have the attention span to play through them completely. Still haven't. Maybe someday. But I sure did read through the game guide a bunch. And spent a lot of time daydreaming about having different psynergy and using it in my day to day life. Which is why for a long time I considered Golden Sun one of my favorite games only to put 2 + 2 together when I was older and realize that a lot of my enjoyment was just in the daydreaming about it.

[aliform]

ending 2024, rhythms and threads

On the online presence, on preserving the self

I've been scrolling back through my likes (I felt a stupid sort of trepidation once I hit almost 1k) and have been queuing them up and unliking them as I go; one of the reasons why I love tumblr and won't leave it in the digital scrapbook/commonplace book sense is that no matter how old I get, how I drift through the months and from job to job, no matter how much I am bored of my life or invigorated by some small new thing, there's still undercurrents that have been me, been Samantha, since I was a teen and are visible here. I still love cake the most, I still love pink roses, I'm an teaboo Anglophile forever, reading/book collecting/libraries are woven into my very essence, and I still latch onto a few subgroups/cultures every year and read about them and then move on (this year: I discovered there's a lot of British men who blog about the different pubs they visit, love that for them, and me).

This tumblr was created 16 years ago (2008 -- I was 21, and my LJ account is now 19 years old as of last month) and is the visible record of my online presence through my 20s: fandom, connections, events etc. My face is on here, snide confessions, inappropriate battles between other users, that one viral post I made about self-care -- anyway. I'm not leaving anytime soon but what does the internet feel like for almost 40-year-old me?

I feel in-between. There's middle-aged blog owners who've been typing away since Usenet was a thing; there's Gen Z who uhh...I don't know how they blog or if they want longform content of any kind. I feel like I don't fit anywhere digitally anymore.

There's Substack, which for weird reasons I refuse to go near (those reasons are that I am suspicious of anyone on there; it's like a NLOG version of influencing and I could be totally wrong but there's a vibe to it that is too commercialist, me-me-me my personal thoughts are better than the other persons...come on, there are only so many ways to teehee over pop culture or dissect girlhood or whatever).

But I did follow through and do what I've wanted to do for years (decades) and make an actual real grownup blog this year. In March! 10 months ago! There's like three whole entries because I can't figure out how to widen the width of the posts and I want to do that before I start writing "for real." Of course I should ignore that and keep on prattling to no one.

On waning, on growing, onto 2025

What has 2024 been? I feel myself age: my face is longer, my hands are older, cuts take ages to heal. We lost Gordon, my husband's soulmate in cat form, to cancer. I've started doing quarterly staycations -- first the Midwest and then New England. Next, the southwest. It's my way to not hate being where I live.

My goal for this year was to only read books I owned. Since I mostly read by listening to audiobooks (all borrowed through the library) that was a fail. My book goal for next year may be to read through everything in my childhood bookcase, from Mary Poppins to His Dark Materials to Ouran High School Host Club.

One major surprise this year was that I started bullet journaling again. Because I'm an idiot I never put years in the old ones (are years not aesthetic enough??) and I think they were from like...2017? to 2019? Maybe? I fell down a rabbit hole of a studytuber and then all the snark about her and was like, why am I not doing this when I have all the supplies; there are 20-year-olds taking time out of their lives to do this and I can too. It's part of my daily routine now and I crave it and even though I am literally writing down the most banal bits of my day.

What do I want out of the next year? More reading, a new fandom or some sort of pull towards something, to not be tired all the time. A house. A bigger apartment. To finally learn how to knit. To keep going and not become some stretched, grey and surface-level version of myself. I can't create more time.

[lesbienneanarchiste]

Okay library was a success/bust bc I didn't find anything good and also everyone there was acting in a manner calculated to make me have a panic attack but I did borrow a couple books including a knitting chart collection from 1993 that is very fun but anyway this is not my point

My point is that I wish my mother were more consistent bc I spent like a full 30 minutes in bed working myself up to tell her I was going to cancel that gyn appt and then I came downstairs and said 'im gonna cancel that gyn appt' and she was like yeah okay. And then i have been trying to figure out how to convince her I need to drop this new idiot doctor for weeks and finally in the car to the library was like "I hate that guy and I'm not going back" and she was like "yeah he doesn't seem to know what he's talking about so that's probably for the best when it's only making you more miserable" like bitch how come sometimes I can get the support I need and other times I will make a single decision and my mom puts me on trial in front of judge and jury and I cannot tell which of those things is going to happen until I actively take the leap and enter into The Situation.

I am. SO miserable and suicidal. My period is due this week and I had a gyn appt on Thursday that I already was sick over going to so I canceled it and now I am 89% more human so maybe I will go to the small book/craft supply swap at the library even tho I have already bought/received more books in 4 months than I wanted to add to my TBR all year. And have only read 11. And have spent the entire month reading only a 650k x-files fanfic from 1999 and even then it was an accomplishment to hit 50% last night. And also I am praying gd will smite me from the heavens and put me out of my misery every moment of every day. So really why the fuck should I drive the 30min (plus getting ready time) to the library to get more books I won't read or yarn I don't need.

[ofieugogyshz]

me: mmmm, i’ve been kinda on/off about wanting to rewatch Boogiepop lately, maybe I should do that since it might help me with some things...

also me, when boogie appears: IT’S THEM!!!!!

i love them and also thank you aoi yuki aka eevee for voicing this enbity, your range is amazing.

[willowser]

okay but. easily nerd bakugou could be so angsty. because he really doesn't think you see him like that !! why would you !!

okay, yes. he's had you in his room and shown you all his hand-painted warhammer miniatures and you kissed him stupid after that and you both may have gotten a little handsy in the historical non-fiction section of the library and that's why the arm of his glasses is bent, just a little out of whack.

but.

"it ain't like that." is what he tells mina, begrudgingly, when she won't stop asking.

"well," she drawls, eyebrows raised as she leans in too close, as if she could squish the answer she wants out of him. "what is it like then?"

and bakugou just shrugs, digging his fingers into his eyes under his lenses. it's hard to know what you even want out of this, why you're doing any of it with him. doesn't make much sense, 'cause you could have anyone on campus you wanted and for some reason you're toying with him, of all people.

"it's—" he shrugs again, pressing his thumbs into the ends of his pencil until the tension threatens to snap it. "nothin', i guess."

and that is so not the right thing to say.

you find him on the second floor of the library, looking through different lectures on physics for his thermodynamics presentation that's coming up, and he does see you first. between the shelves, standing at the end of the aisle with your arms crossed—but the conversation with mina has been heavy on his mind lately; where is this going, anyway?

it's surprising, and bothersome, to think nowhere is the answer. so he pretends he doesn't see you, because he's not ready to face this.

but you are.

"bakugou."

he peeks around a shelf, just enough to show off his eyes, and—you're fucking pissed. and it doesn't help that you look so cute in your summery shirt and the way you've done your hair today and—

"nothing?" you're not being quiet, at all. whole library is watching already. "this is nothing to you?"

and bakugou doesn't really like having his shit aired out, so he fully comes out to face you, walking forward so you'll maybe lower your voice, but you're only stepping back, further and further from him.

"you're such an ass."

"what?" now his face goes red, temper flaring at the challenge in your tone—though as much as he wants to let you have it, too, it's you. and he doesn't want that. not really.

you, who has snuck into his classes just to watch his presentations and has sat idly by until he was done studying, patient as ever. you, who asked to learn how to build a model x-wing and wants to borrow his worn out copy of the last wish, simply because it's his. who wants to be invited to his next dnd game at the apartment and doesn't seem to mind—just watching, even—when he schools denki's ass in battlefield 3, match after match after match.

you, who is obviously hurt and frustrated and fucking pissed. you, with your bitten lips and watery eyes and clenched fists.

"you think you're so much better than everyone else," your words bite, even if they're weak. "but you're just like every guy ever. you and shindo can trade fucking stories, i'm sure."

ouch. "hey, how the fuck was i s'pposed to know this meant—fucking anything?"

"oh, i don't know, maybe when i was topless in your room! maybe that should have been some indication that this was serious!"

and he really, really hates having his shit aired out like this; the flush on his cheeks spreads to his chest, has him shifting uncomfortably under his sweater—both at the memory and your broadcast of it all.

there's really—nothing he wants to say, because he doesn't want to do this here. so he doesn't. just shrugs, pushing his frames back up his nose when they start to slip.

all you give him is one bitter laugh, a cold nod before you're tossing something onto a nearby table: a figure from his room, a piece from his set of battle sisters that you thought was cute. "kiss my ass, bakugou."

and then you're gone. and then it really is nothing.

[dragonmuse]

I'd love to see some wmits Izzy and Alma interactions.

(you've got it!!)

“Charlie!” Alma called as soon as she walked in the door.  “I need to borrow your husband!” 

“How did you get in here?” He called back, coming out of the office with a frown. 

“I made a copy of your key, obviously,” she tossed her braid over her shoulder. Dressed down today, just a little black dress, acid green tights and her lowest heeled boots. “What if you had an emergency and I needed to get in?” 

“I’d call Read,” he said dryly. “What do you need Iz for?” 

“Ugh, you know Mom’s whole charity thing?” She perched on their couch, reaching down to untie her laces. Apparently she was staying a while. Charlie headed for the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot.  

“Which one?” He asked wryly. 

“The warming centers thing, you know? Help the homeless?” 

“She’s got the arts education thing too,” he reminded her. “But okay, warming centers. What about them?” 

“She’s doing a big fundraiser and asked if I would help her out with some of the admin. It’s been fine. You know how much I love to part stupid old men from their money.” 

“It’s one of your best hobbies,” Charlie agreed. “Mocha or caramel?” 

“Mocha,” she kicked off her boots. “Anyway, the actual event is in two weeks and I cut Kyle loose yesterday.” 

“Oh ouch, I thought that was going well.” 

“Turns out, he’s a dick and a half,,” Alma sighed. “People are such fucking liars, it’s exhausting. But he would’ve made a bad date to this anyway. All those old men are going to be all over me.” 

“So you want Izzy to growl at them?” 

“It would make my night,” she beamed at him. The machine started to grind beans, filling the air with the sharp bitter smell.  

“He’s at work for another hour. Stick around for dinner and you can ask him yourself.” 

“That was the plan. I’m not in the mood to figure out food anyway. What’re you up to?” 

“Addressing my advisor’s latest round of critiques,” Charlie sighed. “I think I’m almost done. We’ll see. I don’t know how you survived this.” 

“Who says I did? I’m a shell of my former self. And what was left has been devoured by adjuncting. But I got an interview for a tenure position. Came in this morning.” 

“Holy shit, where?”  He poured the coffee slowly. “What exciting flyover state can we plan on visiting?” 

“Oh, I think you’ll find I might be quite close to home.” 

“...no fucking way.” 

“Way,” she laughed. “I’ve got to get it first, but can you imagine?” 

“You’ll move here!” Charlie beamed at her. “Really?” 

“Really really, if I get it. Can you imagine? You’ll probably get a gig on the oppisote side of the planet as soon as I do though.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I’m thinking of looking for virtual teaching positions, honestly. Something that leaves me enough time to research.” 

“Ah, ‘the book’,” Alma nodded. “Sure, why not?” 

He stirred in the chocolate syrup and brought her the mug, settling beside her with his own. Within a few minutes, they were both on their phones, doing their own thing, but Alma turned around, resting against the arm of the couch, her legs draped over Charlie’s lap. That was the scene Izzy came home to.  

“Am I cooking for one more?” He asked wryly. 

“Yep,” Charlie looked up, beamed at him. “How was work?” 

“Fine,” Izzy set his shoes next to the door then crossed to kiss him. “Can still keep you in style.” 

“Oh, you’re keeping me now?” Charlie ran a hand down Izzy’s arm slowly. “How novel.” 

Alma’s toes poked into Izzy’s stomach and he caught her foot, “What, princess?” 

“Charlie said I could borrow you.” 

“I said ask him,” Charlie corrected. “He’s not a library book.” 

Izzy dropped her foot, “What for?” 

“I’ve got this fundraiser thing I have to go to for mom and you would be an excellent shield against gross old men.” 

“I am a gross old man,” Izzy pointed out. 

“You’re not that old and you’re definitely not gross,” Charlie squeezed his hand. 

“Anyway, blending in can only help,” Alma sniffed. “Be my date?” 

“Do I have to be diplomatic about it?” 

“Not on my account,” she shrugged. “I’ll do the schmoozing, you bring the glaring.” 

“Send me the date then.” 

A month later, Izzy picked her up at the Bonnet family home in a black on black suit, no tie,  silver embroidered black vest in a pattern of roses, one button undone at his throat, the silver chain he always wore catching the light. He looked like a very classy mobster. 

“Did you dress to match me?” Alma asked, clearly delighted. She was in a silver dress, hugging her slight frame with shining jet black accessories. 

“Charlie bought it,” he shrugged. “So probably.” 

“Amazing.” 

When they reached the venue, he opened her door and offered her his arm. 

“Oooh giving me the full treatment,” she said happily, taking it, resting her hand butterfly light on his forearm. 

“What’s the use unless you sell it?” he acknowledged. “Your mother know I’m coming?” 

“I had to tell her,” Alma sighed. “Can you imagine how funny it would’ve been if I didn’t? But alas. Sitting arrangements etc.” 

“She must’ve been thrilled.” 

“There was a lot of deep breathing,” Alma agreed. “Too bad for her. I reserve the right to make this bearable for myself.” 

It was stuffy inside which felt a little on those nose symbolically. Most of the attendees skewed closer to Izzy’s age than Alma’s, affluent and boring as hell. There was a ten-piece band and a lovely woman singing ballads. 

“They’ll have to stop when they give out all the ridiculous awards, patting people on the back for making tax shelters for themselves,” Alma murmured. “I need to talk to the man in the hideous blue number first.” 

“Sure,” they approached and it was actually easier to keep pace with her. They were of a height and Alma wasn’t the kind to dash ahead. 

“Miss Bonnet!” the man exclaimed. 

“Mr. Landon,” she acknowledged. “Thank you so much for coming tonight.” 

“I would never miss an invitation from a lovely young lady to such a well put together event. I haven’t spotted your mother yet, but you’ll have to give her my compliments. Truly an outstanding showing,” he plowed on before Alma could say a word, “there used to be a time every night out was quite like this. When I was a young man, there used to be a dozen events like this a month. You were spoiled for choice, now you’re lucky to get a ‘thank you for your donation’ letter. Just leaving money on the table for good causes.” 

“I hope you got my thank you note,” Alma said lightly. “Parties are good, but I do like a personal touch.” 

“I did,”  Mr. Landon realized they weren’t alone at last. “And this is your-” 

“Date,” Alma supplied brightly. “Izzy, this is T. Landon, CEO of Metro Formation Banking.” 

“I’m familiar with them,” Izzy held out his hand. Mr. Landon glanced down, taking in the tattoo, and shook once very lightly.  

“A pleasure,” Mr. Landon glanced between them. “How did you two meet?” 

“My brother introduced us,” Alma said merrily. 

“Oh,” Landon’s face closed down. “I see. Give my best to your brother. If you’ll excuse me, I see Amanda and I’ve been trying to catch her for weeks.” 

“Of course.” 

Izzy watched him go, amused. “What did Charlie do to him?” 

“His son was selling steroids to the jocks at the high school. Charlie called the cops on them,” Alma smiled faintly. “No idea if he actually was or not. Charlie always hated him. There’s Mrs. Donogue. Try to look extra disreputable. She’s a beast.” 

Izzy went around the room with her. He stayed at her side, except to fetch her a glass of champagne that she used to punctuate statements rather than drink and nursed his own along. Each time she introduced him as her date, there were crestfallen looks from the men, followed by a sizing up. He’d meet their assessment with his toothiest smile. Go ahead and ask. I dare you.  

The women kept their council better, but he heard the flurry of whispers as they moved around the room. 

“Evelyn!” Alma said brightly as they neared the end of her circuit. She sounded genuinely thrilled. “Have you met her before?” 

“Charlie has mentioned her, but no.” 

“You’ll love her. Aunt E!” 

“Don’t call me that in public.” Evelyn was in a billowy deep purple dress that set her breasts on display and hid most of the rest of her. Her eye patch was in the same fabric. She wore no jewelry except for a single ring on her middle finger, an aggressively large diamond. “People will think I’m old enough to be your aunt.” 

“You are,” Alma laughed. 

“Stop that,” Evelyn groaned. “Or at least stop sounding so happy about it.” 

“You have to meet Izzy,” Alma told her. “Izzy, this is Evelyn, Evelyn, this is Izzy.” 

“Izzy,” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “As in, Charlie’s husband.” 

“That’s right,” Izzy held out his hand. She shook it, strong and even.  

“And where is the problem child?” Evelyn asked Alma though her eye stayed on Izzy’s face. 

“Probably reading past my bookmark so he can spoil the ending,” Izzy smiled faintly. 

He’d solemnly promised he wasn’t going out alone. Izzy gave it a 50-50 chance of being true. Charlie did not do well in an empty apartment. 

“That sounds about right. Tell him that I missed him at the birthday bash this year.” 

“I will,” Izzy agreed. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” Alma declared, holding her still mostly full glass. “Anyone want anything?” 

“A negroni,” Evelyn said evenly. 

“No,” Izzy held up his own champagne, still half-full. Alma moved with purpose across the room. 

“Not content with just one of them?” Evelyn asked coolly.  

Izzy snorted, “I’m here as a distraction, not a real date. Alma can do better than me.” 

“So can Charlie,” Evelyn shrugged. “And yet. Here we are with my best friend trying to figure out just where she went wrong.” 

“He’s in a long term stable relationship,” Izzy said mildly. It was nice, actually. To have someone be honest about their distaste instead of hiding it in pointed questions. “About to get a doctorate. Most people would consider that a very successful turn out.” 

“It has lasted longer than I predicted,” Evelyn admitted. “I kept telling Mary ‘oh, just wait it out’. And then you got engaged and I told her it was a stunt. And now here we are. You’re very serious about him.” 

“Yes,” Izzy snorted. “That’s why I married him.” 

“People get married for many reasons, Mr. Hands,” Evelyn gestured at the floor. “It’s a lucky few that do it for love.” 

“I consider myself lucky,” he agreed. “What about you?” 

“Oh, I’m very unlucky,” she said without any change in her tone. “I’ve lost two husbands.” 

Izzy nodded slowly, “Charlie mentioned.” 

“I’m not a very maternal person. Never grieved not having children, but I’ve enjoyed being something like an Aunt to those two. Alma always had a million questions and Charlie took an interest in the business.” 

“I’ve heard. He talks about that autopsy a lot.” 

“He snuck in,” Evelyn said, a hint of fondness creeping in. “In any case, I take an interest, you understand?” 

“I’m glad someone does,” Izzy said dryly.  

“I didn’t come to the wedding because frankly, I hate weddings. I hated my own, hated every one I’ve ever been too. So I didn’t get a chance to say this then, but I think it still applies.” 

“I’m listening.” 

Evelyn shifted her weight, coming inches closer to him. “I have no issue with dead bodies, Mr. Hands. Least of all the ones that deserve to be dead, yet insist on drawing breath. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes,” Izzy smiled at her, pleased as anything. 

“I’m...not sure you do?” She straightened. 

“No one has threatened me over him yet. It’s fucking great,” Izzy sipped his champagne. 

“You...I’m lost,” Evelyn decided. 

“Your Mary was furious. Stede-” 

“Oh, don’t even mention him. We’ve had words,” Evelyn spat. 

“He’s an asshole,” Izzy agreed merrily. “Who blustered at me. No one else has had the guts to do more than that. Even Alma just rolled over to it and she’s the kind of girl that brings an automatic weapon to a knife fight. No one else seemed to give a shit.” 

“Guess that makes me special.” 

Izzy saluted her with his glass, “Very. A fucking pleasure to meet you, honestly.” 

“Here, Auntie,” Alma returned, holding out a glass for Evelyn. “Have fun?” 

“You know what,” Evelyn tipped her fresh glass at Izzy. “I think I did.” 

They had to sit to eat dinner after that. Izzy ignored his plate, in favor of listening to Alma schmooze her way around the table. Mary was sitting one over, apparently listening intently to some blowhard though Doug kept interrupting with guileless jokes that she laughed over and the blowhard winced at.  

There were speeches and awards as dessert came around, then at last the band started up again. 

“Dance with me,” Alma demanded. 

“Yeah, fine.” Izzy got to his feet. 

“We can just do a stomp and sway,” she offered as they got to the floor. 

“Fuck that,” Izzy decided. “You know how to foxtrot?” 

“No?” 

“I’ll teach you.” 

“How do you know?” She asked amused as she settled her hand at his waist. 

“Long story. But it serves you, so don’t ask questions.” 

Alma was a good partner. She moved gracefully, picking up the steps. Charlie liked his dancing dirty and had little interest in the formal. Would he if they came to an event like this? Maybe they’d have to crash a party one day and find out.  For now, Alma flew lightly on her feet. 

“We make a good couple,” she said impishly to him as they swirled around the floor. 

“I look even more like a predator with you then I do with him,” Izzy countered. 

“Because I’m a woman?” She asked tartly. 

“Because idiots think I could convince you of something. Or force you,” he spun her out, then reeled him back in “If they haven’t met you. They see a guy like Charlie, think he can fend for himself.”  

“If only they knew the terrible truth,” Alma snorted. 

“Which is?”  

“That without Charlie, you’d be lost at sea. And without you, Charlie would be dead.” 

“I don’t-” 

“Please,” Alma rolled her eyes. “I know my brother. I know what he was like when you met him. I like you a lot. Probably would’ve anyway. But I only love you because you keep him on his feet.” 

“Does the same for me,” Izzy offered helplessly. Hurricane Alma. What a force. 

“Can’t get divorced then. Mutually assured destruction. Anyway, no one thinks you're a predator tonight. Just a guy with enough cash to turn my head.”

“I’ve got fifty bucks and a triple AAA card.” 

“Great, we can have a breakdown and get fast food.” 

“It’s a date.” 

They left not long after. The Bonnet house was dark. He turned off the car, but she made no move to get out. 

“What is it?” 

“If I get the job...Charlie says he doesn’t want to leave the area. You think that’s true?” 

“We like it,” Izzy considered. “The apartment is a good deal. Know all the decent spots. I’ve got a good amount of clients. Could move, but not a lot of incentive just yet.” 

“I want you both to stay,” she kept her eyes on the house. “I might need you.” 

“What for?” Izzy frowned. “You don’t need anyone.” 

“That’s not the same as wanting to need someone. I don’t....I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” 

“About the job?” 

“And my entire fucking life,” she snorted. “Ingrid is barely talking to me. Owen is never going to move back to the area. Shawna travels so much, it’s impossible to pin her down. I was counting on that. On them. And now it’s just...gone. So I need to know you’ll be around.” 

“I’m not making promises,” Izzy sighed. “But I can’t see where we’d go.” 

“Good,” she looked up at last with a half-smile. “If I need a ride in a few days, would you take me somewhere and not ask any questions?” 

“Any day,” he said carefully. “Are you all right?” 

“Not sure yet.” She leaned over the console, suddenly in his space. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Iz. For tonight. And the maybe ride. You headed home?” 

It would be a long drive. He could get a hotel room or at least, catch a nap here before going. 

“Yeah,” it wasn’t even a question, really. 

“I figured,” she grinned. “You’re both so predictable. Don’t fall asleep behind the wheel. It’d be a loss to the accounting community.” 

“Fuck off, princess,” he said fondly.  

“Night!” 

He waited until she was safely in the house, lights flickering on one by one, before turning the car around and headed back home.

[twistedbloodstain]

sergeant kyle “gaz” garrick x reader : waves meeting your shore, ever and evermore | “how you two met” headcanons: civilian edition

plot : the one where after an exhausting operation, kyle decides to wind down at the local library in his town and meets librarian!reader who was on her shift when he arrived.

tags : time to give kyle garrick some love, pining if you squint, nothing bad rlly, mentions of mw19

masterlist

after the operation in georgia, kyle was sent home by his superiors. kyle inquired for an assignment but told he’s going to have one soon. they insisted for him to take a rest before he takes on the mission.

kyle expressed his desire to be on the mission right away but it was dismissed.

the temporary leave irritated and perplexed him.

there’s nothing he can do so he just listens.

hastily unlocking the door to his flat, twisting the door knob then shoving the door open with his left arm carrying his duffel bag, kyle welcomes the sound of silence to his ears.

he does a quick scan of his living room, a dusty coffee table and television, the jacket hanging on one of the hooks fastened on the wall doesn’t escape his line of sight.

making his way to the bedroom of his flat, he opens the door ajar, a messy bedroom greeting him.

he lazily tosses the duffel bag on his bed, contemplating whether he should change first or fix up his things.

he opts for the former, heads for his closet then puts on some grey sweatpants and a blue shirt.

walking back to his bed, he unzips the bag and takes out the dirty clothes, briskly dumping them in the laundry basket.

he delves deeper into the bag and finds a few of his favorite books.

a smile finds it’s way to his face, reminiscing the excitement and suspense it brought him back then.

they were his safe space when the world he lived in was in peril, his moral compass when his ideologies were challenged.

he walks up to his wooden bookshelf, books on hand delicately stuffing the books into the smooth hemlock bookshelf.

after putting the books back, on the spine of a book there was a thin paper attached, it caught his attention. he grips the upper spine of the book pulling it towards him.

he realizes its a book he borrowed from the town’s local library. he borrowed it a week before he was tasked in the al-qtala fiasco, he was supposed to return the book a few days after he borrowed it. the assignment had him unable to return the book on it’s due date.

he decides to return the book today, the idea of a walk appeasing the idea. he needed to be alone with his thoughts after the previous mission.

a sigh escapes his lip, as the idea of the recent missions crossed his mind.

he felt like it squeezed all the energy out of him, the burden of his job sometimes weighing too heavy for his shoulders to carry.

kyle knew what he signed up for, he knew all the shit he went through was for the greater good anyways.

it did little to soothe him nevertheless he accepted it.

he clasps the book on his left hand, exits his room, walks up to his jacket on the hook and puts it on.

he walks down the patio of his flat, greets one of the neighbors, madam shelly who gave him some of the crumb cake she bakes and continues towards the location of the library.

the brick-made library enters his sight so he jogs up.

as he entered the library, a sweet earthly scent greets his nostrils. the well-lit library had a few people sitting with their books at the wooden tables stationed at the middle. last time he was here, it was only him and the grumpy librarian who lended him the book.

walking up to the librarian’s desk, he sees that no one’s around to station the desk, and reluctantly rings the bell.

a figure immediately rises behind the table, expecting the grumpy woman from last time rather a young lady welcomes him.

she sheepishly smiles at him apologizing for her sudden appearance.

“hi, how can i help you today?” she starts, dressed in a black turtleneck, a golden necklace hanging on her nape and a black and white plaid skirt to finish with.

“um, i’m here to return a book i borrowed months ago.” he returns a smile to her, a warm feeling agitating in his chest.

“oh, just hand over the book and then you can be on your way.” she replies with a radiant tone.

he hands her over the book while he does a subtle gaze at her features. the librarian takes the book shyly taking a few glances at him, a small smile forming on her lips.

“this book’s been gone for four months,” she comments while scrolling through her computer, “where have you been?”, a chuckle leaving her.

“work.”

kyle didn’t know why the hell he was still doing there, but the enticing librarian seemed to have him glued on the spot.

“you must’ve been very busy, did you bring it with you?” she curiously remarks while propping the book at a tray with wheels.

“yeah brought it wherever i went.” he replies, softly eyeing her movements while stowing the weight of his hand on the table, almost as if he’s leaning on it.

she notices his gesture and beams at him, she slowly walks up to him. her eyes never leaving his form.

“so,” she slowly voices out, “there’s this nice cafe down the street and i was wondering if you’re free later? after my shift of course.” she nervously blurts out.

it was his turn to chuckle, their eyes maintaining eye contact.

“absolutely.”

author’s note : please leave a like or reblog!! feel free to drop your thoughts 💭 also feel free to put out a request :D

[hobidreams]

may 1869.

just this once, you let yourself be a little braver.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 1.4k contains: someone new, something new.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 20. start from the beginning?

A balmy wind drifts through the open window of your bedchamber, making ripples upon the freshly made spread. You stand in sunlight before the mirror, tracing the faint remnant of the bruise on your collarbone, left by the king’s hungry mouth too many nights before, and wish absently that the mark will stay for at least a few hours more.

As the days grow longer, his visits have become far less frequent, though the minutes he spends indulging in your heat seem to extend ever so slightly in turn. The explanation that leaves your heart intact is that he is occupied by overseeing the administration and results of the national civil exam, the gwageo that took place a few days ago and will bring a new group of eager scholars into the palace. You try very hard not to think about the possibility of his finding his way to another woman’s bed, even though he is well within his rights to. Even though it is expected of a king to have handfuls of consorts in his court. He has, thankfully, spared you of such truths, like he continues to spare you of any details about his life. Theoretically, that makes it easier to not get so attached. Theoretically.

With an exhale, you re-adjust the collar of your blouse to hide the mark and put on your hat before stepping out into the sun, holding a book that you intend to return to the king’s library.

As you walk towards the building, you soon realize there’s a man you’ve never seen before in green scholar’s robes in front of the shuttered doors, pacing back and forth as the dark samo on his head bobs from the effort. What’s he doing? While people may pass by here, they rarely linger.

When the man spots you, his gaze seems to brighten. “Excuse me, uinyeo-nim!”

You come to a stop before him, taking in the wane of his eyes that are like friendly crescents. “Good morning. How may I help you, Scholar…?”

“Park.” He smiles. “I’m one of the newly admitted scholars.”

“Scholar Park. Congratulations on passing the exam.” You return his smile with a small one of your own though you remain on your guard, no matter how kind he seems. Most of the current scholars treat you with disdain (though they at least attempt to veil it on the king’s account, you are certain), as you are a woman and thus beneath them, no matter if the texts you’ve read could rival theirs. This Park must be brilliant though, if he passed the rigorous exam at such a young age.

“Thank you. I’m excited to begin my work! But…” He bites his lip. “The head scholar asked me to obtain a copy of Bang Si-Hyuk’s latest text, and the royal library said that only the king has a copy…” His expressive face falls and you, with a twinge of endearment, think he might be an awful liar if he ever tried. “Would you happen to know how I might borrow from the private library? Should I request an audience with the king? Are there official forms to follow? I really don’t wish to misstep.”

You stare at him quietly, contemplating whether or not you should reveal that you have such access.

He nervously seems to take your lack of answer as confusion. “Yes, I am aware that I should have asked my fellow scholars but they are all so much older than me and I’m afraid that they will take me less seriously than they already do if I cannot complete such a simple task on my own... But no one else has walked by here and I do not want to go back empty-handed and…” He trails off, giving you a look of absolute desperation that warms your heart, despite your reservations.

“Scholar Park. I can retrieve the book for you, if you promise to return it within a few days.” The king wouldn’t notice that it’s missing anyhow, not with how busy he’s been. That, and you get the feeling that the older scholars have been playing a bit of an initiation joke on this poor boy.

“Really? You will? Thank you, uinyeo-nim!” He breaks into a huge grin. “Oh, but uinyeo-nim, how do you have access to the king’s libra…”

You can practically see the moment it clicks in his mind that you are that physician, the one who’s name is irrevocably tangled up with the king’s.

It seems palace gossip is not exempt even from those who have only entered the grounds the day before. You can literally feel the turmoil going on within him as he tries to figure out how to address you, whether or not he should give you the respect of the king’s consort even though you are technically not one in the slightest. Just a lowborn, a hole, even a witch doctor that has bewitched jeonha, as those less polite than this boy have put it when they thought you were out of earshot.

“Hm?” You prompt like a masochist, wanting to see what he says. Wanting to see if it’ll hurt you some more, or if you’ve finally gone blissfully numb.

“N-Nothing, uinyeo-nim.”

You were right. He’s an awful liar.

But you get the book for him anyway, and see him off with promises to meet you back here two days later for the return. Your reality is none of his fault, after all.

That night, the king drops by with little decorum. Opens the door to your chambers and strips off his robes, like he always does. Though this time as he kneads your bare chest in his calloused fingers, pinching the peaked nipples so hard you whimper, you are filled with a need for some scrap of certainty. You want to wipe that coolness from his eyes for even one second, to stoke some intimate fire from him that says he still remembers how you used to be together. How it used to be easier than this. Closer, even though now you know how thick his cock feels as he robs you of air.

“You—ah—you’ve been busy, jeonha?” It’s been getting marginally easier to talk to him like this in the moonlight, his hands making a mess of you. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve come.”

“What, are you that needy for a fuck?” He smirks, but it’s a look more dark and dangerous than playful as he reaches down and finds you soaked. You think you feel the ghost of that word lingering around his question, but it is a small blessing that has not said it aloud since that night in April.

Your face flushes hot. “I-I was just wondering…” You shouldn’t mention it. You really should hold your tongue, but you’re sick of being trapped in your own mind, going in circles with your own insecurity. Just this once. Just this once you want to let yourself ask— “I thought… That perhaps you had taken another conso—oh!” You’re cut off by an abrupt inhale as he sinks two nimble fingers into your cunt. One smooth stroke takes him so deep, only for him to pull out to use the translucent wetness he’s gathered as lubricant along his shaft.

“You think I have time for other women?” He snaps. His stare is intense, but you can’t see a single lie in their depths. “Never have.”

Then he takes you so roughly, you think the bed might break from all the rattling. You have to blink away white spots in your vision when you come and he doesn’t say much more to you for the rest of the night, but you’re smiling almost deliriously all the way through with your nails scratching faint red down his back, the bracelet he gave you dragging over his skin from its home on your wrist. Never, your mind echoes, again and again.

Against all the odds. Against anything you would have expected. Even if he keeps you at arm’s length to the thoughts in his heart, it’s still the chance three-step skip of a grey stone across a rippling pond.

You’re the only one.

a/n: wow. drabble 20. it’s taken us half a year to get here & it honestly feels like a dream that i’ve made it this far. yet there is still so much on the line. so much further to travel together. thank you, if you’ve been here since the beginning. thank you, if you’re just picking up the series 💜 please do come let me know your thoughts on the series as we slide into the present time, with all the tension of the past lingering too closely by. i truly couldn’t have gotten here without all your support ♡

[junowritings]

Hi! I love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I figured why not give it a go? I'm not too sure you if accept specific characters or just dorm leaders/vices/other characters as a group so if I'm wrong, please let me know!

May I request Riddle, Floyd, Leona, and Idia walking in to find a gender neutral reader singing and dancing their heart out to a spanish love song? And when the reader sees them, they begin to sing to them?

(I know this is a bit of a specific ask and I understand if you don't do it! Either way, thank you so much! Keep up the amazing writing:D)

Dw hun you're not wrong at all I do all kinds of characters not just specific groups~! This ended up being a potluck of reactions and honestly were really fun to write I sure hope you like it~!

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

Riddle

♡ Riddle hears the soft croon of music filtering out from your room before he even enters. It’s not the first time that he’s heard this particular song, nor is it the first time that he’s heard you singing along to songs - it’s just that most of those instances have been behind closed doors, so he’s only had the chance in passing to hear your singing voice for himself. This time the door’s open however, and your voice is just soft enough alongside the music from your phone that he doesn’t quite hear it until he steps inside and sees you.

♡ Your arms are pulled close to your chest, hands resting over your heart and head tilted back as the lyrics flow from your lips in a soft tune; you sway along to the beat as though your very heart moves with every dip and crescendo - you know this song word for word and it shows in the way that you sing and dance around the room.

♡ He knows he should announce his presence, it’s the polite thing to do rather than just standing around gawking after all, but you’re so immersed in the moment that even Riddle is hesitant to break you from your reverie just yet. In the end he doesn’t need to, as the next time that you make a show of spinning around you catch sight of him standing in the doorway; your surprise morphs into a soft smile, and Riddle’s momentary embarrassment of being caught watching fades when you swivel to face him and motion him to come over.

♡ Still singing along to the music you beckon him over, watching him linger at the edge of your room for a few moments until your coaxing finally convinces him to move over and join you. He’s rather awkward approaching you, if only because he has no idea what to do when you’re standing face to face. It becomes apparent quickly that you’re not just singing to the air anymore; you don’t look away from his face as you sing, and when he’s close enough you move to brush a hand against his, not quite touching but the gesture is obvious enough.

♡ He does his best to keep his reaction in check, but there’s a tremble in his expression when you finally take one of his hands, holding it between both of your own and bringing it up between you as the song rounds onto the final chorus. Your voice softens just enough for him to still hear you sing by the time the last notes filter off, and beneath your gaze he fidgets, suddenly bashful with the attention that you’re directing his way. Riddle’s quite easy to fluster despite appearances, so having such undivided focus directed at him as you sing a love song directed towards him is flustering, to say the least.

♡ The song has long since finished by then. But you continue to hum the tune under your breath for a little while longer, and Riddle makes no move to shift away from you as you give the hand still clutched between yours a gentle squeeze, smiling at the sight of him flustered at the small act of affection.

Floyd

♡ Wherever there’s fun to be had, you’ll find Floyd; or, more accurately, Floyd seeks out anything that catches his interest. Something that peaks his attention requires investigation, and he’s more than happy to snoop a little if it means finding something interesting. It’s for precisely that reason that once he hears the sound of music coming from somewhere in the building he just can’t stop himself from wanting to find out exactly where it’s coming from.

♡ It’s not a song that he knows, but that only interests him further as he lets the noise lead him to an ajar door where the tune is coming from. If he wasn’t immediately going to peek inside and see what’s going on before, the sound of your voice coming from inside certainly seals the deal as his head peeks around the doorway. He spots you easily as you spin around the room, singing along to the lyrics of an upbeat melody that plays from the speakers, and Floyd immediately perks up at the sight of you practically beaming as you belt out the words.

♡ He doesn’t watch for very long, because he’s much more interested in joining in since you look like you’re having so much fun. So Floyd does exactly that, and you don’t even notice that he’s there until he calls out to you and crosses the space to reach you. Your voice falters when a hand grabs onto yours and spins you around, causing you to momentarily pause mid-song when you catch sight of Floyd. He gives you a toothy grin when he sees your surprise, but he eagerly encourages you to keep going - he loves the sound of your voice and you look so happy, he wants to see you smile even more!

♡ Whilst startled by the sudden audience, your voice slowly picks back up where the song left off, gradually working your confidence back into the words as the lyrics come back to you. It doesn’t take very long before you’re singing as you were before, a small smile coming back to your face when Floyd tries to match your movements until the two of you have settled on just swaying back and forth in tandem.

♡ Even though he doesn’t know a single word of the lyrics it doesn’t stop him in the slightest; instead, Floyd just plays it by ear and starts trying to sing along with you as best as he can. He butchers more than a few words but it’s the spirit that counts and he more than makes up for it by enthusiasm alone; he nails the chorus pretty well though, and takes any opportunity he can to get a laugh out of you. At one point you break mid-song when he dramatically pulls you into his side crooning out one of the lines, grinning triumphantly when you have to pause to snicker at the display.

♡ The moment the song ends Floyd whines about it being over too soon, and he’s quick to amble over to where your phone is to pick it up. You’re guessing that he’s going to find another song that peaks his interest, but you’re pleasantly surprised to hear the same song start up again from the speakers after a few moments of him messing around with your music library. You give him an inquisitive look, but the Octavinelle student only flashes you that same toothy grin you saw earlier in response as he hums that he wants to listen to it for a little longer - after all, why would he want to change it when he loves the way that you sing along with it~!

Leona

♡ Leona recognizes your voice over the music. He knows the song - you’ve hummed it under your breath when you think no-one can hear you more times than he can count so he knows that it’s you the moment that he hears your voice. Usually he wouldn’t be fussed and just leave you be; instead, he finds himself nudging the half-open door with his hip and stepping inside to see it for himself.

♡ Just like he suspects, he finds you in that room, swinging and swaying along with the vibrant melody of what Leona quickly realizes is some kind of love song. Your eyes are closed as you sing, simply enjoying the lyrics that flow in tandem with your voice - you look surprisingly peaceful, and the passion behind your voice is hard to miss. It’s a song from the heart, that much is clear to see, and it’s a surprisingly captivating tune that Leona spends longer than he would like to admit listening to as he folds his arms over his chest and stops by the door.

♡ He’s not exactly quiet, but it still takes you a hot second to notice that you’re not the only one in the room anymore. Your eyes flutter open upon noticing, and when you spot Leona watching you dance and sing you flash him a smile, turning your focus upon the dorm leader as you begin sliding over to where he’s standing. He raises a brow at the action, but doesn’t immediately move away and instead settles for watching to see what you’re going to do.

♡ You reach out to him, urging him to come over with the joking wave of your hands and a cheeky grin on your face. Leona rolls his eyes at the display, though he doesn’t make any moves to pull back or shift away when you take the initiative and approach him anyway. You reach for his hand, and with a gentle tug he relents and allows you to guide him to follow along with you as you backtrack into your previous position in the center of the room.

♡ Leona’s not one for dancing though he does know how, so you settle for singing directly to him, shifting your grip on his hand until you can slide your fingers between his. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you’re doing this, but he humors your performance and watches as you start swaying along with the music again, listening to the croon of your voice upon reaching the chorus of the song.

Idia

♡ Idia’s attention is buried in his phone already listening to music when he comes barging into the room, as if his mind wasn’t already occupied he would have heard the telltale melody from a mile away. He’d ended up coming to your room only because you’d borrowed something earlier in the day and he needed it back - usually you’d be happy to bring it back to him yourself, but with today being one of the few instances he’d willingly left his room he thought little of just dropping by, picking it up and being on his way back to the Ignihyde dorm. It would’ve been a quick trip, he’d thought, and didn’t even expect to run into you outside of asking for his stuff back.

♡ His own music drowns out most of the other noises he would’ve heard if he was paying attention, so he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s walked into until he’s stepped through the door and spotted you mid-chorus, running a hand through your hair as you spin around. The two of you come face to face, and neither one of you apparently expected the sight of the other, as you both freeze up with a shout of surprise and it’s only when Idia yanks off his headphones that he finally hears the gentle cues of a spanish love song filtering through the room.

♡ Immediately his first reaction is to assume that he’s intruding and he spins on his heel fully intending to walk back out the way he came and promptly forget ever walking in. However, at the sound of you calling out to him Idia freezes up again, and he just about ready to sputter through any apology he was going to say when you take hold of his arm, offering him a blinding smile and asking him to stay for a little while - how about a dance~?

♡ Idia goes to refuse at first, and yet in the second that he looks between the door and you looking imploringly at him the boy caves, agreeing before he even clocks onto what exactly he’s agreeing to. You beam and beckon him to step further into the room, humming along to the song as he follows your lead and awkwardly shuffles alongside you.

♡ He doesn’t recognize the lyrics, but he’s heard enough lovey-dovey music online to know a love song when he hears it. Idia tries not to read too much into it - you could just be singing along because you like it, there’s definitely no reason why you’d be singing a love song to him right? Right???

♡ But it doesn’t help that you’re still holding onto him as you shift and sway along with the melody that plays from the speakers, and your smile is so warm and bright each time you look at him to check if he’s okay Idia fears that he’s gonna burn up if you keep giving him your undivided attention. He tries to just focus on the music, and how practiced the words flow from your lips as you sing along with the melody - you look happy, and he’s trying to burn the image into his head as a special event even after the music has faded away.

[write-orflight]

Light the Lamp: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader (Friends to Lovers, College/Hockey AU

Rating: M

Words: 2.2K

Warnings:  College kids being college kids, drinking, swearing, talk of sex(No smut yet but will be)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:  Love and Hockey were kind of the same, everyone’s just rushing to score. So why couldn’t you?

A.N Summary bad but I literally couldn’t focus on writing anything else until I finished at least the first chapter of this. let me know what you think, Message/reply/inbox to be tagged.

  Chapter 1: 1st Quarter

Hockey wasn’t the sport Bucky wanted to play originally. He wanted to play baseball like his old man but when Steve decided he wanted to take ice skating lessons, he made Bucky tag along so he wouldn’t be the only boy in the class. Soon, they found themselves recruited in the junior rec hockey team and had been playing together ever since. It wasn’t a surprise that when recruitment came around that school’s were trying to pick up both of them. People knew better than to separate Cap from the Winter Soldier. Steve’s nickname was easy to figure out. He had a natural authoritative nature that made him the Captain of almost every team he played on. You never knew why they called Bucky the Winter Soldier until you played against him. Bucky was like an assassin on the ice. While everyone was focused on Steve in Center, Bucky was on left wing scoring the goal before you knew what hit you. So both of them getting recruited to play for the Avengers at Wilmington University wasn’t surprising. 

Meeting you was. 

At first, it was a sort of form of hazing. When they were starting their Freshman year so was the Coach’s daughter. He had asked senior members of the team to ‘keep an eye on her’ and make sure she didn’t get herself into any trouble. The seniors’ thinking that was lame, were more than happy to pass the task off to the two eager freshmen trying to make a name for themselves. So that’s how it started, The two boys walking you to classes and home from the library late at night, much to your demise. 

“I should’ve known my dad was going to do something like this.” You complained when you saw the two boys waiting outside your dorm the first week of classes. “Thanks for coming. But you can tell my dad that I’m not going to be the freak being escorted by hockey jocks everyday.” 

“No can do, Doll.” Bucky says. “We leave you, we’re doing drills the rest of practice.” 

“Doll? What’re you? A 40s newscaster?” You say, with an annoyed expression walking passed the boys who just followed suit behind you. “Ugh, this is such bullshit. He literally begged me to go to Wilmington and promised I’d be able to have a ‘normal college experience’. What about this is fucking normal?”  

“I know it’s less than ideal but hey, we can make the best out of this.” Steve smiles. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He says extending a hand. 

You shake it. You couldn’t blame them for your dad not trusting you. “Y/N. You?” You asked the other boy next to you. 

“Bucky.” He provides. 

“Bucky?” You question. 

“Well, it’s James but my friends call me Bucky.” 

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You ask. 

“Might as well be, since we’ll be seeing each other a lot this semester.” 

And that’s how your semi-unconventional friendship started. Pretty soon, even though your dad had eased up on the 24-hour watch, per your mom's request, you still found yourself walking and getting coffee with the two in the mornings. Even, found yourself waiting in the rinks watching practices so you could hang out afterwards and that became your life for the next two years. Now the three of you we’re entering your Junior year of college. Steve was right back in his title role of Captain, Bucky was now first string Left Wing and you were… still watching from the bleachers. You didn’t mind though, you grew to love the sport due to it being your dad’s profession. Hell, you were on skates before you could even walk. But you never found yourself on the women’s team, Hockey wasn’t something you really wanted to do. You still supported the girls team though, which is why you found yourself watching their practices too. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Carol said, skating to the end of the rink where you were sitting next to her girlfriend, Maria. A position you often found yourself in, entertaining player’s girlfriends while they practiced. Maria was cool though, at least you knew about the sport. 

“Hey, Marvel.” You called her by her nickname. Thing about Hockey is everyone was called by their nicknames. 

“You going to the Sigma Pi party later?” She asks. 

“Uh, no one told me about it.” You say, awkwardly. 

“I’m telling you now.” Carol says like it's obvious. “You never go out anymore and I refuse to let you become a cat lady before you turn 25. Come over ours at 7, we’ll pregame and head over at 9. What do you say?” 

“Fine, I’ll come.” You say. 

“Great!” Carol says, pumping a fist before signalling her girlfriend to come closer to the rink. You look away as they kiss. Couples made you uneasy, especially hockey couples. You wanted that more than anything, for your guy to skate up to the gate just to sneak a kiss from you. Not that dating anyone from the team was even an option with you dad coaching. The team saw you as a little sister and if anyone was caught even looking at you in any way, their ass was grass by either your dad or Bucky, who’d become protective of you over the years. 

“Marvel, stop flirting with your girlfriend and GET BACK ON THE ICE!” You heard your dad scream. 

“Sorry, Couch!” She called. “Sorry, baby i’ve gotta jet. Y/N, don’t forget. 7 o’clock!” She says before skating off. 

“I won’t!” You call after her. 

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

You can’t help but look at yourself in the mirror awkwardly at the tight Satin dress your roommate, Wanda practically forced you in. You were just going to wear a sweater and jeans, your regular wardrobe but Wanda insisted everyone had seen you in that and what they haven’t seen is you in a dress. Especially, with your new body, you had gotten over the summer working at a sports camp. Who knew running after kids would be such a great form of exercise? 

Wanda also did your makeup, something you didn’t typically wear, giving you a natural glow eye, a layer of mascara, and sticky gloss that made your look ‘dewy’ as Wanda described it. You tried to keep your hair in the bun but Wanda insisted you keep your hair down. Saying it made you look hotter, you shrugged knowing you’d have to take her word for it. 

The two of you made your way to Carol and Maria’s apartment. Carol swung the door open and looked at you in surprise. “Woah, Ice Baby, you clean up nice.” 

“Don’t start, Marvel. And you know how I feel about being called that.” You hated the nickname but since you were the coach’s daughter and you stuck around the rink any chance you got, The seniors had started calling you Ice Baby your freshman year and the nickname unfortunately stuck long after they had gone. 

“Right, sorry, I always forget.” Carol said moving out the way for the two of you to come in. 

The four of you drink and play games until it’s time to head to the party. You’ve got a pretty strong buzz going as you enter the party and you regret the strappy heels Maria made you borrow before leaving. You’re sitting in the corner when someone comes to sit way too close to you. You look up to see Brock Rumlow, or Rum as the team liked to call him. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Ice Baby. You look good.” 

“My name is Y/N but thank you.” You say, annoyed. 

He holds his hands up in mock surrender “I forgot you hate that nickname. Let me bring you a drink to make up for it. What you want.” 

“Rum and coke, please.” 

“Oh, so you like Rum?” He says, obvious double entendre hanging off his tongue. 

“The drink? Yes.” 

“You’ll like the man soon enough.” He winks, smirking at the flush that spreads across your cheeks. 

The two of you spend the night like that. He brings you drinks and shamelessly flirts with you as you get drunker and drunker. The two of you even dance for a bit in the sea of grinding bodies. Soon you’re telling him a story and a hand drifts to your leg. You turn and he’s much closer to your face than you thought he was. 

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks. You nod but before you can even stand, Bucky is there towering over Brock.

“You can leave, Brock. But I’m taking Y/N home.” He says. 

Brock rolls his eyes. “Forgot you had a Winter Soldier guard dog. No worries, dude. I’m leaving anyway.” He says, before turning to you. “You’ve got my number, call me if you wanna hang this week.” He says, nodding to Bucky before walking away. 

“Ugh, Bucky. What was that for?” You whine, drunkenly. 

“You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” Bucky says. “Come on, stand up.” 

You shakingly get up and Buck is there immediately under your arm, his arm around your waist helping you walk out. 

The cold breeze hits you as soon as you step foot out the party and take the long trek home. 

“I think I drank too much.” You point out. 

“You think, kid?” Bucky says. “You’re lucky, I was here meeting Sharon otherwise you would’ve been shit out of luck.” 

“Brock would’ve taken me home.” 

“Brock’s a lowlife. Don’t worry about him, I’ve got you.” 

You sigh. “Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her when I make sure you get home so if you could pick up the pace.” 

“My feet hurt.” You complain. 

“Yea, I bet. God, when did you start wearing heels, Doll?” 

“I wanted to look good tonight.” You sigh. 

“You always look good.” 

“Fine, I wanted to look hot.” You provide. “For once, I wanted to be the one guys paid attention to at parties.” 

“You can be yourself for that, Y/N.” Bucky says. “You’re a catch.” 

“If I was, someone would’ve fucked me by now.” You drunkenly admit. That makes Bucky double-take. “I mean, think about it? 3 years into my college career, I turn 21 in a couple months and still it's where no man’s gone before down there.” 

“Y/N, are you saying you’re--” 

“A virgin? Yea, Bucky catch up.” You groan at the pain in your feet. Bucky looks and takes sympathy on you. 

“Here take off your shoes.” He says, toeing his off as well and sliding them over to you. 

“You’re just going to walk barefoot?” You ask, putting on the shoes, holding your heels in your hand. 

“Better than you walking barefoot.” He shrugs. 

“Anyway, I decided over the summer that maybe I was putting too much thought into it. I mean almost everyone loses their virginity in high school and it's never good, no one ever says their first time was good. I just thought maybe I should just, you know, get it over with.” You slur. “Which is what I was trying to do until you chased my date away. God, you always do that, Bucky.” 

“I’m not fighting with you while you’re drunk.” Bucky says, trying to get you to drop the subject but you persist. 

“Every time I try to talk to a guy, you butt in--” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t butt in if you picked the right guys for you.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the guys I pick! You’re just a cockblock.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Yea what about Charles? He asked me on a date freshman year and took it back not even an hour later. I had to beg Steve to tell me why and it turned out that you threatened him if he even thought about going out with me.” 

“Y/N, you had just turned 18 and X was a 24 year old senior! I didn’t trust how he was just waiting. So yea, I told him to fuck off. And Rum is an asshole who can’t get a girl to sleep with him unless they’re shitfaced. So yea, I told him to fuck off.” Bucky exclaims as the two of you make it up the stairs to your apartment. “Y/N, you’ll find someone right for you and that right person will make your first time special. I just want you to find someone who’ll make you happy.” 

“And I just want you to remember for next time that if you want to tell a girl who she can and can’t fuck, you have Sharon for that. Not me.” You said, taking off the shoes as you arrived at your front door. 

“Y/N, wait--” You hear him say but you don’t care, you slam the door in his face regardless. 

Who did Bucky think he was? Sure, he was your best friend but so was Steve and he’s not nearly as protective as Bucky was. You honestly couldn’t tell who was worse at this point, your dad or Bucky. You loved both of them but they had the fatal flaw of forgetting you weren’t a kid. You were a woman, a woman with needs. And one particular need you needed to get rid of.   

So you picked up your phone and called Brock. Bucky couldn’t be right about everything.

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @riverofcrestmont @babymango-writes @astralsaf @gabi-socio @hereforalongtime512​

[sulky-valkyrie]

What about “you want books? how many? screw it, i’ll buy you the whole damn store.” I'm not saying I'm on one braincell when it comes to ships regarding Merrill but I like Meribelahawke what can I say

I'm a terrible person and stuck only to the spirit of the dialogue, not the dialogue itself. Please forgive me. For @dadrunkwriting

~~ Hawke was reading in bed, half upside down with their legs propped up against the wall, when they heard the front door slam open.

Bodahn, naturally, was fit to be tied, but since Dumat hadn’t started barking, it was probably fine.  Probably.  They closed the book and listened carefully.

“Kitten, fancy seeing you here!”  Just Bels then.  Why was she actually using the door though?  Most times she stopped by, she swooped in through the bedroom window to surprise them in the most delicious of ways.

“Really?  Where else would I be?”  Merrill asked from the library.  “Oh no, I haven’t forgotten to be somewhere, have I?”

“You’re fine, sweetpea, I promise”  Bels laughed as her voice neared the bedroom.  “Hawke upstairs?”

“They said something about a bath, but I haven’t heard water running.”

“Thanks, Kitten!”  The door burst open.  “Hawke!  Sweetie, darling, have I mentioned you’re my favorite human?”

Needy Bels was always a good time.  They tossed the book onto the nightstand and rolled over.  “Not lately,” they said with a grin, then patted the bed next to them.  “What does the infamous pirate need nobility for today?  Something dirty, I hope?”

Isabela threw herself onto the bed, nearly bouncing Hawke to the floor.  “Yes, but not for me.”

They flailed dramatically then grabbed at her to steady themselves.  Then grabbed again for good measure.  Okay, maybe one more little -

“Stop, Hawke, this is serious,” Bels laughed, pulling their hand out of her shirt.  “It’s for Merrill.”

“Merrill needs something dirty?”  Hawke asked.  “It’s not like her to -”

“I think it’s supposed to be a surprise, but she’s not having any luck with Anders.”  She nipped at the mage’s fingers.  “I can’t decide if he doesn’t keep it written down or if she’s just that shit at sneaking in to look.”

They pulled their hand away.  “Look for what, exactly?”

Bels leaned close to their ear.  “Dirty spells,” she breathed, pitching her voice to sound like the adorable little blood mage, and well, if that didn’t make them shiver all over, what possibly could?  She continued in her normal voice, with only a smirk to show she knew exactly what effect she was having.  “Remember that electricity thing he used to do?”

They snorted.  “I didn’t sleep with him, remember?”

Bels humphed and rolled off the bed.  “Fine, remember the electricity thing I told you he used to do?”

“You haven’t stopped talking about it for nearly seven years,” Hawke snickered.  “You’ve also tried to convince me at least twice a month to try to figure it out, but I’m shit at lightning and really don’t want to explain a dead woman in my bed again.”

“Just ask Anders, it’ll - wait, again?”

“Idunna, remember?”

“You weren’t in her bed, just sort of around it.”  Isabela waved a hand at them dismissively.  “Anyway, the point is, I think I have a lead on where to find a dirty magic book.”

“Please tell me this isn’t your relic.”

She shook her head.  “No.  Well, probably not?  I don’t think Orlesian shops like this would . . . anyway!”  She tugged at Hawke’s arm.  “We should go look, you know magic-y things, so you can tell if it’s real or not.”

“But if Merrill wants to surprise us -”

“Just leave it downstairs with the . . . I don’t know, something Fenris wouldn’t borrow - he doesn’t need anything else to spook him.”

Hawke eyed their lockbox thoughtfully.  Alternatively . . . “Hey Merrill!”

“Coming!”  Her footsteps barely made any noise as she raced up the stairs.  “You didn’t start without -” as the door opened, she stopped.  “You’re still wearing clothing?” she asked, disappointed.

“C’mere,” they said, holding a hand out.  Merrill took it happily and wound it around her waist as she rubbed her nose in their hair.  “You wanna buy a book store with me?”