#Also btw the italic text is the character's thoughts!

[blueepink07]

Checkmate

Posting this fic here too! But you can also read here.

Summary: Yuno notices a pair of crimson eyes staring at her match of chess with Mahiru. Scared that her older friend might remember the latest event in which she was attacked by the same pair of eyes, she swiftly leads her to Shidou's cell with the excuse that Mahiru needs to take her medications. However, when Yuno comes back, the same prisoner that disrupted their game demands another match with her.

"No fair… You are too good at this, Yuno! You really have to teach me, too!!"

"And… Checkmate!"

"Sure!! Let's put the pieces back together and I will teach you some tricks!~"

"Right! But… Where was the queen placed…?"

"Mahiru…" Yuno couldn't help but laugh, noticing her friend mistaking the queen’s place for the king's.

It's been a while since they stayed like this, relaxed and cheerful, despite the circumstances… Kotoko's attacks prevented Mahiru from moving much, forcing her to spend the days in her cell, without an occupation. Although Yuno was frequently checking on her, she grew worried, noticing that with every passing minute, her mental state was deteriorating, so the requested wheelchair felt like a rescue from this monotonous routine.

Exactly, when the two friends were finishing to set up the table, Yuno spotted a pair of crimson eyes staring in their direction. The same pair started to approach them, the high school girl's heartbeat slowly increasing with each step. She wasn't scared for her… She was worried for Mahiru, who hadn't still felt the presence of the other person. How would she react seeing the prisoner who hurt her just a while ago? What's Kotoko trying to do? She can't beat up anyone during the trial, but what if…

No, Yuno, these are just assumptions! The best thing you can do is to avert Mahiru from noticing the taller prisoner and get her to leave the chess table.

"Mahiru… I think it's the time to get your medications. Let's first go to Shidou and then we will continue, ok?"

"Ah… but I had thought there was still some time left until my next medication…"

"I understand why! We had such a fun time together, so it's only natural. Here, let me help you!"

"No!"

Yuno's flinch didn't get unnoticed by Mahiru, who, with an apologetic smile continued:

"I don't want to be a bother… You spent so much time with me… With this wheelchair I can move by myself… So, really, Yuno, I will be fine…"

"It's still annoying to move with that, isn’t it? You still haven't got used to… This. Don't worry, for me it's not a bother! I have nothing better to do, so let's go!"

Yuno didn't even wait for Mahiru's response, helping her instead to move as fast as possible, directing the wheelchair at an angle from where she wouldn't be able to see Kotoko. Her heartbeat started to slow down as she was approaching Shidou's cell, knocking on the door.

"I think I will retreat for now!! Don't forget about the match!"

"Ah.. Yuno?!"

"Sorry Mahiru… I should go back to see if everything is clear now…"

Yuno felt more confident when she came back, if not she became curious of what Kotoko wanted from them. She wasn't even surprised to see her sitting in Mahiru's place, staring at the chess table.

"Kotoko… Do you want to play chess too? Although I don't think that's why you came, right?"

"Actually, that’s why I'm here. I've noticed that you are quite skilled at it, so I thought it would be good practice."

"She hadn't even hidden the fact that she watched us for a while. But I guess she had no reason to, considering that she now thinks she is Es's partner."

"I'm surprised! I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be the type to play chess for fun!"

"I play once in a while… It’s relaxing actually, it also trains my mind and helps me keep myself more… composed."

How much Yuno would want to throw the chess table to a corner and leave. Keeps her relaxed, huh? What a lie, Kotoko's hesitation tells everything. The way her voice, usually powerful, has been slightly trembling at the last word.

She is after something, that’s for sure… Yuno heard before that the strategy you use when playing chess can tell a lot about one's personality. Is this Kotoko's attempt at trying to learn more about her, while making herself vulnerable? After all, this game of accumulating information can be played by two.

"Okay~"

"I will begin first, if it's alright…"

"Sure, go on!"

Making the first move… Usually the one who begins has a slight advantage. Is Kotoko not that confident about her skills…? However, the first two moves are usually the same regardless of who you play with. As expected, Kotoko moved the pawn that guarded the king. The muscle memory worked in, and Yuno, too, placed her own pawn with two slots.

The objective, in the beginning part of the game, was to make an opening for as many pieces as possible in a short time. Kotoko seemed to know this too as she started to move more pawns to make room for the pieces that were worth more points.

Just a few moves in the game, and Yuno could already tell Kotoko's style of playing. After quickly disposing of the pawns that kept the other pieces in place, the raven haired girl started to consider every move an opportunity to attack. Aggressive, but precise, fearless, no matter the consequences. If Yuno would take into consideration the latest events, she would think that this is how Kotoko usually plays. But… Something feels off. Kotoko analyses before she acts. Her moves right now are too reckless, the difference in points being quite large, Yuno having a considerable advantage.

Has Kotoko figured it out already…? That the way Yuno plays during their match is different from her usual style? The highschool girl likes to trick her opponents at every given chance, while also putting herself in a position that might mislead the opponent, creating a false sense of stability that would cause them to advance in the danger, becoming a victim of her tactics. However, with the possibility of Kotoko wanting to learn more about her, it forced Yuno to take a different approach. Instead of using tricks, she decided to play safe, maybe too calm and boring for her liking. Not attacking much, but having a good defense, while slightly predicting the opponent's moves.

Is Kotoko trying to push Yuno to her limits? Yuno is not a fan of long matches, and considering that Kotoko plays in offense, while she plays in defense, it will take some time until one of them wins.

To succumb to boredom and let Kotoko's strategy actually work, or continue this charade…

It will be easier if she would just stand up and leave… After all, Kotoko is not someone she would like to spend time with and she should really check on Mahiru.

"Hey, Yuno. You seem deep in thought, are you actually paying attention to the game?"

"Hm~? Chess is about strategy, so it would be natural to be deep in thought. Or is this your way of acknowledging that you let me win?"

"Hmph, let you win. What nonsense. I think you are the one who treats me lightly. From what I've seen, from your other matches, you could have already won by now."

Since when did Kotoko start to spy on their games? It's scary how easily she can make herself unnoticed and claim so much information.

"How sweet! An admirer!"

Surprisingly, Kotoko didn't comment about her reply, instead her face turning into a frown.

"Your skills at chess are really impressive, my only objective was to have fun with you."

"... Really? After everything that happened, what made you think that I will forgive or forget. I don't think I have to spell it out for you, why does no one want to sit next to you though."

"Then, why did you accept my request? I know that you aren't afraid of me. Were you scared that I might have hurt Mahiru? Do not think that your action didn't go unnoticed."

Why did Yuno accept the request… To gain information about the prisoner in front of her… Who was now watching her with the same crimson eyes that a few minutes ago, caused her heartbeat to be increased. Would it be a smart move to answer honestly? No, her intentions should be hidden for now. Who knows? Maybe if she will do this more times, she could figure out better what is the deal with Kotoko. And the next time, she would make sure that no one would be injured by her anymore. To predict Kotoko's next moves. Like in chess.

"Hm… I wonder! You are the only one with whom I haven't still played with, so I suppose I was curious about your skills! Especially, since you said that chess is relaxing…"

"Ah… The small competition you had last week. You won, didn't you?"

"Haha… Yes, but I'm wondering if Shidou actually let me win. His skills are truly impressive."

Kotoko's face showed little to no emotion, but Yuno could tell that she didn't believe her lie at all.

"Still, you should have played fair with me. Anyway, I'm done here. Next time, promise me to give me a great match, okay? I want to see more of the real Kashiki Yuno."

"..."

With Kotoko's departure, Yuno was left alone with her thoughts. "Next time… huh?" Her motive is still… unclear. It's not like Kotoko likes her very much, the feeling is mutual, so what does the raven haired woman want to achieve?

"Yunoo!!~"

"Mahiru!"

"See, I've told you that I can manage on my own!"

"Did Kotoko leave, because she noticed Mahiru approaching…? Would she be really so considerate of Mahiru's feelings, or is it pure coincidence?"

"Ah… Are you okay…? You seem spaced out…"

"Oh, yes! No worries! Let's play, shall we? I can't wait to show you some cool moves!"

"And maybe I would not be the first one eliminated, next time, from the competition!"

"That’s the spirit!"

All Yuno's worries about Kotoko's motivations dispersed as soon as the new match started. With a small, soft smile, she began explaining to her friend some of the easier tactics, as Mahiru was pretty much a beginner. Yuno couldn't help, but laugh seeing the eyes that were watching her with anticipation and curiosity. It is the first time, since Mahiru was injured, when her older friend displayed genuine happiness, her beautiful eyes seeming to regain their sparkle that she adored so much.

[tiltingheartand]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @hearteyestommykinard and @desert--moonchild <333

How many works do you have an AO3? 34.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 132,535.

3. What fandoms do you write for? at the moment, just 9-1-1, although i have a feeling as soon as i rewatch the sandman i’ll feel a renewed urge to write in that fandom too.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? let me in before the rainy season starts again (7337) i want to believe (3878) colliding with forever when you speak (3191) clouds the size of oceans outside and above our heads (3186) the symphony of what we are (773) (all five of these are for the sandman, btw. all dreamling.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why? Why not? so the thing is that i want to be the kind of person who responds to every comment, but they build up and then thinking about answering them makes me anxious so i avoid them, so more build up, so i get more anxious … it’s a whole thing. and i try not to get to the point where my hobbies feel like assignments? so.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? we were warm until we went to hell, with characters from star trek (2009) in the universe of repo! the genetic opera. it’s, uh. about as cheerful as the source material. (... i.e., major character death.)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i’m dying not to hurt you, a haven fic in which i said “fuck that” to the MCD in the penultimate episode, and in which i got the ot3 from the show together. finally.

8. Do you get hate on fics? not so far (fingers crossed).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? until a few months ago the answer to this question was “no”, but then i … started writing smut. apparently. it’s all been bucktommy so far (and probably will continue to be, tbh).

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written? well considering the answer to #6 is a crossover …. anyway. not my only crossover. i think maybe the "craziest", just in terms of which media were getting mixed, is the sound of her wings -- a crossover between mash and the sandman (the comic series; this fic was written in 2006).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? no (again, fingers crossed).

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? i have not!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no, although i help people brainstorm sometimes (or get help brainstorming). also, it's not quite fics, but i was in a bunch of text-based RPGs on LJ and DW in the long long ago.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? what a horrifying question to ask, thanks! uh. right now, probably bucktommy; ask me again in a year and that answer might change.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i have concerns about finishing the thing i'm calling "the frequency AU", solely because it's. a lot of plot. and i have a severe tendency to get myself bogged down in details that literally nobody else gives a shit about, to the point where all writing ceases. (... actually, i'll include "hob gadling vs the wraith" here too, for the same reason.)

16. What are your writing strengths? i'm pretty good at getting characters' voices right, i think, both out loud and in their heads (i write almost exclusively third-person limited).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? scene transitions. establishing scenes, so that the thing i have pictured in my head that i'm trying to get into words is accurately conveyed to other people in a way that i don't leave a big piece of information out. where to end scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? hasn't really come up for me actually? i feel like if it ever did i'd just end up going the "italicized words, and then "in [language]" after the italics" route, both for my sake and the sake of the readers.

19. First fandom you wrote for? sailor moon, the dic dub. thank god geocities is gone.

20. Favorite fics you've written? this one's a really tough call actually! i think probably a cross between we'll dance this fading life away (stargate sg-1) and the physics of this second sight has led me here (the librarians), because i was trying to write the both of them for such a long time and i'm really happy (and proud of myself, honestly) that i managed to finish them both.

tagging (with zero pressure!): @miriellesandthegiantpeach @mooshkat @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat @smallandalmosthonest @dadvans

[vaguely-concerned]

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 1

Basically exactly what it says on the tin! I kept making notes while I was reading and somehow it grew into this sprawling monstrosity that had to be split into three parts haha. In short: I loved this book, 10/10 incredibly gay and full of yearning Garak is there the whole time would recommend. 

Quotes from the book in normal text, my reflections, reactions and self-indulgent bits in italics :) Please, please only click on that read-more if you're ready for some truly long-winded nonsense, I fear I have gone and been extremely myself about this and I can only beg your forbearance for it while I get it out of my system lol

Part 2, Part 3

- My dear Doctor:

Forgive my delay in responding to your kind communications. I wanted to give this modest chronicle I’ve enclosed a modicum of organization and update it before I sent it on to you. Thank you for your concern. I have thought of you often since our last meeting, and I am pleased to hear that your life on Deep Space 9 remains challenging and productive. Considering all the changes that have taken place I would have expected nothing less. And I’m certainly not surprised that your research proposals have been accepted. You’re a brilliant young scientist—even if you are genetically enhanced. As for my life here …

This is such a deceptively innocuous and normal-sounding beginning to what is about to be an extremely unnormal and unhinged thing to send a friend as a letter. He made it all of one paragraph of keeping it chill and I honestly think that’s pretty impressive all things considered. Thankfully Julian Bashir — who, let’s not forget, gave Jadzia his fucking diaries to read after much shorter acquaintanceship than what what we’re operating on here — is possibly the one person in the galaxy with the unhinged energy to take it.  

(‘I have thought of you often’ he says. And how., as we shall see)

- Yes—I’m afraid you weren’t expecting this response to your kind inquiry; it goes a bit further than “Greetings from Cardassia—Wish you were here.”

Fhksjdfhasdkj well. In spirit that is exactly what you’re saying tho garak fhdskjaas. It’s just that you’re also pathologically incapable of shutting the hell up and for this I love and treasure you. 

- So why Captain Sisko is so upset with me because I accomplished the goal (which he established!) of getting Romulus into the war against the Dominion baffles me. And it’s not because of the few lives that were sacrificed. Federation expansion has taken a toll in countless life-forms—about most of which they are blissfully unaware. The moment you step into a garden and begin to cultivate and prune, you become a killer. Perhaps the captain was upset because he had hesitated to do what was necessary to insure the integrity of his garden. Sentimentality is another trait that makes humans dangerous.

*Garak voice* Julian please tell me why your boss is so mad at me I literally solved all his problems for him. for which he’s wELCOME btw

Eyes open for recurring metaphors about gardeners, Tolan is haunting this narrative and it’s only polite to say hello whenever he shows up

- Indulge me, if you will; I need you as a witness.

Can I just say how fucking wild it is in terms of character development for Garak to openly admit he needs someone interpersonally. Incredibly fucked up that he writes both parts of this directly to Julian, though — both the part where he’s pretty sure he’s going to die trying to free Cardassia from the Dominion, and the ‘now’ timeline on post-war Cardassia where he seems to be dazedly coming to the realization that he might live, actually, and what that means to him. 

- As a child I would go to the Tarlak Sector with Father, and while he supervised his crews I’d play by myself amid the black-and-white angularity of the monuments, imagining myself a great gul or legate giving the funeral oration for a fallen comrade. 

Already we are starting to spot the thread, if you’ll excuse the expression, of why Garak might be Like That

I also came to admire Damar’s idealism, which led him to renounce his allegiance to the Dominion. If he had one weakness it was his propensity for long-winded speeches. But given the fact that none of us are perfect, the man would have made a fine leader.

As I stood at the memorial service, I thought about all the grand affairs I had witnessed here when I was a boy. None of our famed heroes and statesmen has ever had such a humble service—and none of them, from Tret Akleen on, deserved more than Corat Damar.

You are a species of long-winded speakers and Pythas Lok 

- Dr. Parmak, the unit leader, worked furiously to stabilize the little girl, and when she was evacuated by the transport unit he broke down. He’s a very good man, this Dr. Parmak; he reminds me of an older version of you, Doctor. 

Introducing Dr. Kelas Parmak, last seen in the then-noodle incident mentioned in The Die is Cast. Quite possibly the chillest person who has ever lived, considering he gets over the whole thing where Garak like tortured him pretty fast. (To be fair Garak DID say he was sorry. Between this case and Odo’s, that apparently goes a surprisingly long way lol) 

- But Garak, you’ll say, there’s no excuse for killing a defenseless woman. And there isn’t… unless you’ve been brought up in our system.

I love that he keeps a little Julian around in his head to talk to at all times. That’s one of the most freakishly intimate things in this whole book of freakish intimacy. Garak has a little Tain on one shoulder and a little Julian on the other shoulder and they have heated debates as to the validity of murder as a solution to any given problem that’s put before him

- I also thought about this Cardassian sense of duty and how it is largely responsible for bringing those of us who are left to these current circumstances. I asked Dr. Parmak how an entire people can come under the sway of this duty and blindly give allegiance to a state that goes mad and murders its own children.

“Poisonous pedagogy, Elim,” he replied. “We believe what we are taught.”

Poison/Disease contagion is a metaphor that will wind through this whole thing,and different people mean different things by it. Parmak means it about The Facism, which is the right one. You’ll be unsurprised to hear that Dukat Sr. has a rather different spin on it, and that he’s wrong! 

- But Tain at home was anything but mysterious. It was not unusual for Uncle Enabran to appear and take me away on some excursion that involved a long walk through a section of the city. During these walks he’d test my awareness, and challenge me to describe a house or a person we’d just passed. If I hadn’t been paying attention and couldn’t remember the details, the walk was over and we’d silently return home under the oppressive weight of his disapproval. He also seemed to know how I was performing at school, and if he wasn’t satisfied with my progress or behavior he’d punish me. I was a hard worker but I had a mischievous streak, and I enjoyed getting others involved in questionable activities and arranging it so they were found out and took the blame. On those rare occasions when I was caught, Tain would somehow find out and punish me—not for my misdeed, but for having been caught. And after he discovered my fear of small, dark spaces, his favorite punishment became keeping me in one until I had convinced him that I had analyzed and fully understood how my mischievous scheme had gone wrong. I found it odd that Mother and Father never had anything to say about these punishments.

. . . 

At first I thought I was in trouble, and my face must have reflected this fear because Father attempted to reassure me with a forced smile. But the uncharacteristic falsity of his behavior and his barely concealed agitation only made the situation worse. I had never seen him like this. Mother’s face was a mask; it revealed nothing. She spoke as if I needed to clean off the day’s work before we ate.

Garak treats him and Bashir ‘drifting apart’ the same way he describes his young self being trained by Tain to go over his ‘mistakes’ — what did I do wrong? You also see it (almost most heartbreakingly to me) from Tolan when he gets sharper out of worry at the end of the scene where the agent comes to take Garak away to the Bamarren Institute: 

I was stunned. I wanted to ask more, I wanted to ask about the dedication ceremony that afternoon, but I didn’t dare. Father had that look when one of the workers didn’t get it right the first time. But what had I done wrong? 

Oh buddy. He’s so fucking confused. The only thing you’ve done wrong yet is having been born with some connection to Enabran Tain, Elim, I’m so sorry

- We were the “missing pieces”—and in order to find our place in the mosaic of civilized society, we had to be broken down and reconstructed from the bottom up.

Keep your eyes open for ‘broken down and reconstructed’ too, it will be on the final test lol

- The good captain gave me one of his bemused stares.

Sisko ILU. He’s not in this book a lot so I’ll take the chance to say it here, because I do. 

- It was explained to us that until we became disciplined in our relations with the “complementary gender” we would make better progress this way. When I asked One Tarnal how we would learn this discipline without interaction between the sexes, he blinked and mumbled something about “distractions.” When I asked what that meant I was told that I had a loose mouth and given five days of hygiene-chamber maintenance as punishment.

“You don’t know enough to ask so many questions.”

Elim 'Genuinely & Guilelessly Too Deeply Pansexual To Be Able To Follow This Logic’ Garak

- Pythas/Eight descriptions because this is a bad mutual crush situation: 

- Unfortunately, the only student left was quiet Eight Lubak, who kept completely to himself. He agreed to accompany me and quickly moved to the door. He was short and slender, and his dark eyes and long lashes made him look younger than the rest of us. He was almost too delicate for a Cardassian. I was not encouraged … but I had no choice.

‘Dark eyes and long lashes’ huh lol

I started to follow him, but he made it clear that I should stay where I was and wait. All during this, Eight was quiet and controlled—and as sure of himself as if he’d done this many times. How did he know where he was going?

. . .

His face was dark, intense with concentration; his brow ridges, which were unusually pronounced, cast shadows over his eyes. My heart began to pound when I realized what Eight was planning. These were certain to be older students, but he expressed no hesitation, no doubt.

. . .

I didn’t know then if I could ever call Eight a friend. Something about him was strange and impenetrable. But it didn’t matter. At least I knew there was one person in my section I could trust. How I had misjudged him. It was obvious that Eight had what Cardassians call a ferocious spirit—and that I could learn a great deal from him.

. . .

Eight also came from a “service” family background, and it was soon clear to everyone that he should have been designated One Lubak, a fact not lost on the actual holder of that designation who, judging from his behavior and speech, came from the highest echelons of our society.

. . .

Five was an athlete who also did well in class. I could see that he was attracted to Eight. As indeed I was. 

Big round of applause for Andrew Robinson managing to sneak the skywritten subtext into the text like this, it’s an exceedingly rare gift to get to have from the media of this time 

. . .

But by then the group had passed. What murk? Me? Have all the others been captured? Surely not Eight. I couldn’t believe that was possible.

. . .

The only member of my group who performed as well in all areas was the taciturn Eight.

. . .

The truth, of course, was that I didn’t know how to forge those kinds of bonds. I wanted to be closer to Eight, and to a lesser degree Five, who besides being one of the great Pit strategists Bamarren ever had was fair in all his dealings.

. . .

Eight remained for a few more minutes. I had the feeling that he wanted to say something more to me. Suddenly he turned and disappeared behind a barrier. The air was filled with whatever went unsaid. He was as shy as anyone I had ever known.

The boys are being useless lesbians at each other omg……… what must this whole mess look like from Pythas’ POV tho. He’s been keeping an eye on his friend/crush so he doesn’t get himself killed by running his mouth off too much to the wrong person and before he knows it the guy is embroiled in an inadvisable bisexual sandwich of betrayal and savage intrigue. I wonder if anything would have been different if Garak and Pythas had managed to actually talk to each other here.   

- Eight was the only person who deserved number One as much as I did—maybe more. My solitary behavior was not always in service to the group. Eight and I exchanged encouraging looks. The support of my one constant friend was all I wanted. I sat there and shut out everything else.

*Garak whenever someone prefers Pythas over him* understandable honestly I’d do the same thing he’s the best have a nice day

End Pythas/Eight teen crush corner

- My mind wandered. I was sure that I heard sounds of the women students gusting with the winds. Suddenly mother materialized … she looked like she was apologizing. I wanted to tell her how much I missed her, but her image dissolved and … Father took her place. I knew he was telling me something very important, but I was growing dizzy and afraid that I’d join Six on the ground … his words were carried away by the winds.

Suffering and agony

Some assorted 'Just assure me that I'm not going mad, Doctor'/Garak's ever-tenuous grip on his mental health moments:

-I don’t know why I wasn’t surprised that he knew. Instead, I was grateful; it told me I wasn’t going mad.

A recurring worry for him I’m sure it means nothing! I feel the same fellowship with him as I do with Harrow in The Locked Tomb series, which I’m sure says even less, don’t worry about it.  

And how do we even begin to rebuild a world that doesn’t exist anymore? A world that exists in my mind with the same arid bitterness as the dust in my mouth. I have never lived with despair, Doctor, the way I live with it now. It’s almost like a phantom companion that shadows me and casts doubt on whatever I do.

“Why save him?” it asks, as we remove a young boy from the rubble of a school. “You’re only keeping him alive for a future of privation and chaos. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to join the burial unit?”

I want to scream at this phantom, to shut it up. Once I turned around suddenly and raised my hand to strike it. When I realized it wasn’t there, it was too late. Everyone in the unit was looking at me; I’m sure I must have looked like a madman. Dr. Parmak tried to send me home, but I refused—alone it’s even worse.

I’m just imagining Julian arriving on Cardassia like ‘hey yeah I got your letter and we should fuck about it right now but first of all have you told Parmak you’ve been having vivid hallucinations again because that’s very relevant medical information Garak!!!’ 

- But it was in the Pit and my work with Calyx that I suffered the most. My dreaming made me “an air man.”

“You have no grip, no focus. How can you find your strength if you can’t hold your place? Living in your dreams is like living in exile.”

*whisper* pls don't...

- As I tried to put faces on the shadowy children, they began to approach me. They became more distinct as they moved through the rain and haze. Can you believe it, Doctor? They weren’t my schoolmates; they were the Cardassian orphans from the Resettlement Center on Bajor we once visited. The orphans left after the Cardassian occupation forces withdrew. The same young girl was their leader and her lips formed the same question.

Have you come to take us home?

I jumped up. I felt the shed closing in, threatening to swallow me. I ran out into the rain and gloom.

“There is no home anymore! Can’t you see that? Look around you! It’s gone!” I screamed at them and fell to my knees in the sodden waste. They continued to stare back with that same look of fragile trust that I would somehow relieve them of their fear and bring them home. I couldn’t look at them anymore and dropped down into the muck. My despair was no longer just a voice; it was this monstrous world the evil had created, and it surrounded and overwhelmed me.

I don’t know how long I remained curled up in the mud. I felt myself being lifted and half carried, half dragged back into my shed. It was Dr. Parmak. He cleaned and changed me as best he could. He prepared a cup of Tarkalean tea, which made me think of you, Doctor. How ironic, another doctor pulls old Elim out of the muck of his despair, but this time he’s a Cardassian.

The fact that in the episode itself, Garak (in a haze of endorphins and practiced dissociation) is barely like ‘yes yes I’m sure we’re ALL very upset about the orphans. Or whatever. Well what do you want me to do about it Doctor it’s just the way of the world’ and then it just haunts him horrifically for the rest of his life forever and ever the end! Very on brand.  

Garak does seem to genuinely like and care for children in general, which makes my heart all weird and sad

Also Parmak making Tarkalean tea and Garak being like ‘oh. Like Julian :’(‘ about it my HEART. The fact that he’s a serial befriender of very patient kindhearted doctors willing to put up with his nonsense is probably the only reason he’s still alive lol. Thank u Parmak

- A difficult move under pressure against strong physical resistance from an opponent … and something would snap. A painful blow might set it off, a whispered insult, perhaps just a thought or a feeling of hopelessness, and I would suddenly lose control and lash out like a madman. I became suffused with a raging, crimson anger that poured out from some black hole somewhere deep inside me.

I feel like we see the outlines of this still in him by the time of the show — more tucked away and harnessed, but definitely still there. He’s got an instinctive Fight response a mile wide, it’s just that these days he mostly expresses it by becoming incredibly fucking MEAN when he feels threatened rather than outright physical attack. 

- And there was a soothing quality as it spoke of dry legal definitions. It acted as a balm for my bruises and bitterness. I began to feel such longings. It was like hearing music that you love when you least expect it. How I missed Mother, and working with Father in the flower beds. How I longed for home. I dropped my guard and surrendered to the voice. The tears I was determined never to shed accompanied choking waves of shame and relief, sadness and joy. I finally was able to admit to myself how unhappy I was.

*me with my magnifying glass studying the Palandine/Bashir parallels* listening to Bashir talk about Federation nonsense things presumably fills much the same niche in Garak’s psyche as this haha

- “I assure you, I am not in the habit of attacking people I don’t know in public places. We got our feet tangled in the crush, and he went down—just as, moments before, I nearly wiped out the scent display when he ignored the fact that I was standing in his path. I trust he’s not hurt.”

“I expect more from you, Garak,” Odo lectured. “We’re all under a great deal of strain.”

“As am I, Constable. Please, sit down at least. I feel like a schoolboy being disciplined by the docent.”

Odo sighed and awkwardly perched on the barstool next to mine. 

Their dynamic is. Everything to me. Also we learn later that the guy Garak picks a fight with here because he’s upset Julian is hanging out with Miles (lmao oh… buddy) isn’t just anyone or on impulse, but is one of the most hostile-to-Garaks Bajorans on the entire station with a small gang behind him, and Garak knows exactly who he is. Which lends it a certain… something. Almost an edge of very roundabout self-harm.  

“I can’t stay long. I have to finish dealing with this …”

“ … situation,” I finished. “You’re very fortunate, Odo.”

“How so?” he asked.

“These people have come to trust you. They rely upon you. You’ve made a real connection here.”

Odo merely grunted. I was careful not to mention Major Kira, knowing how reserved he was on the subject.

“Do you still want to go home?” I asked.

The question startled Odo, and for a moment the mask of official reserve dropped from his face. This was the first time I had brought up the subject since his admission to me during the “interrogation” in the Romulan warbird and Tain’s ill-fated attempt to destroy the Founders’ homeworld.

“ I … can’t say,” he replied ambiguously.

“Well, I can. There’s certainly nothing here to keep me.”

“I never told you how sorry I was about Ziyal’s death.” Odo could be quite sensitive in such matters.

“You did, actually,” I nodded. “But thank you.”

“Still, you and Dr. Bashir have created a strong bond.”

“Not really,” I answered quickly. “I’m afraid that what I have to offer has run its course. It’s certainly no match for darts.” I heard the bitterness of my tone, and so did Odo. We sat in silence for a moment.

“I understand you’ll be involved in the invasion. You must be pleased.” Odo steered us away from the heaviness that had descended.

. . . 

“When do you want to schedule your consultation?” I asked. Odo—no doubt influenced by his budding relationship with the Major—was about to branch out sartorially. But it occurred to me that Quark was the last person he wanted to know about it.

“We’ll talk,” he replied, nodding to Quark as he briskly marched back to the Promenade.

AHdorable all around. Hilarious that Odo picked up on trouble in human/lizard paradise and, with the vigor of a person who has freshly had love work out for them for the first time, going ‘not on my fucking watch you’ll talk to each other if it’s the last thing I do’. Also the sheer readiness with which he expects Julian to be Garak’s safe place. What on earth does this relationship look like to outside observers. Especially to Odo, practiced observer of humanoid folly, who completely nails Garak’s whole deal in Improbable Cause to the point that Garak lashes out defensively over it.   

- My solitary confinement was agony. The only way I got through it was to rethink all my attitudes about the Pit and the Wilderness and to focus on how I could make my stratagems more effective. Just as I had learned to do when Uncle Enabran locked me in that suffocating closet. Was this the universal torture for failure, I wondered?

Going through the whole book it is so stunningly awful that this IS the logic his inner world is shaped around for the vast majority of his life, right up until the ‘present’ part of the storyline where it’s being slowly deconstructed and reassembled. 

- I apologized to the others for disrupting their family; I explained that I had great need of this creature. Not only was Mila (as I eventually called him) the answer to my current problem, he was as important as any of the docents at Bamarren, with the possible exception of Calyx.

;_______________________________________________________________; there’s no part of this that isn’t crushing

Unlike the last time, I had preparation and an ally.

Tain really had to work at deadening Garak’s ability to form loyalty to anything else but him, because left to his own devices and natural instinct Garak will clearly packbond with ANYTHING. He’s so desperate to belong to someone and be loyal to them. 

- As the sun came up, the otherworldly beauty of the Wilderness was gradually revealed by each succeeding gradation of light. I was deeply moved by the presence of so much color in what had initially looked like a dead world to me. Beginning with a cold pale gray, the dawn flowed through a range of blues and into the softest rose and pink and then to a hot red that soon gave way to the merciless bleached bone-white of midday. I was able to see how much territory I had covered the previous night.

Can I just say how unspeakably tender it is that he takes the time to write this out in this. It serves literally no purpose in this narrative but sentiment — to be beautiful. He saw something beautiful once that moved him and he wants to share it with someone. What the fuck. 

- I became increasingly concerned; the sun was getting higher, and the overhanging ledge was now my last source of shade. At one point I took Mila out of his wrapping to check on his condition. At least that’s what I told myself. I was afraid that if I was honest and admitted that the real reason was to solicit help from a regnar, the slide into total insanity would be swift and sure. I was getting desperate.

The funniest and saddest thing I’ve ever read fhdskjfas emotional support regnar that he names after his fucking MUM hours. There are things going on with Garak no psychologist could ever hope to get to the bottom of 

- Three more members of the Furtan group were on the other side of the rock formation, but Mila had found a hidden depression that required some quiet digging to get into, and we avoided detection. We settled in and resealed the opening with sand and loose rocks. After an indeterminate period, the Furtan hunters left. As we waited for nightfall I fell into a deep sleep. 

BB!Elim and regnar Mila like ‘OUR secret hiding spot’. (Seeing how much garak both craves and thrives on getting to have that sense of ‘we’ and fellowship tho. And knowing that’s going to be not only deliberately kept from him but made psychologically impossible for him for a very long time. We should bring Tain back to life so we can kill him again and more painfully actually. Mercymorn acid jail for a thousand years time.)

- While I understood that I would have to watch my step with One Charaban, I also acknowledged that I had never been in a manlier or more attractive presence. It was like encountering an ideal that I’d only dreamed about. As I walked back to my section and accepted the congratulations of my mates, I was baffled not so much by the appearance of this new and commanding person in my life as by my recognition of his strong connection to me. But what connection?

Baby pansexual disaster at his finest

- The other day, the Doctor, Odo, and I were at the Replimat having lunch, an event that Odo, after our conversation, had taken it upon himself to organize.

. . . 

“But what about you, Doctor?” I asked, returning to the business at hand. “It seems there’s a movement afoot to have you replace Captain Sisko.” The doctor winced.

“Is this true?” Odo asked. We both looked to the doctor for confirmation. He sighed.

“There’s a group of … genetically enhanced people who feel that one of their own should be guiding the station during this emergency, and they’ve petitioned the Federation Council, but it’s Jack and his group, and no one takes them…” Exasperated, he broke off. “Garak, how did you hear about this?”

“My clientele talk and I listen.” This was also true: an idiot savant who wears his presumed genetic superiority like a badge of privilege walked into my shop and never stopped talking. Of course I encouraged him, and by the time he left I had heard all about some organized attempt to elevate Dr. Bashir to the leadership position. I could see that the doctor was upset that I’d divulged this information. Clearly this genetic business was not his favorite topic of conversation.

“Is this something we should keep an eye on?” Odo asked, studying us carefully.

“No, not at all,” the Doctor assured him. “It’s just Jack’s people. This was nearly a year ago, and I’m afraid they have too much time on their hands—like some other people I know.” He pointedly looked away from me as Odo continued to study us, trying to decode the undercurrent of this last exchange between us. No wonder he was such a capable security operative. Odo registered every change in tone and temperature and tracked the change down to its cause.

“Tell me something, Garak.” It was clear that he had found an opening for one of those deferred questions he kept on a prioritized list somewhere in his changeling head. He was still a basically shy and tactful person, especially when it came to other people’s business, but lately he’d become more openly inquisitive. I wondered if it was Major Kira’s influence.

Matchmaker/self-appointed and woefully under-equipped marriage counselor Odo……….you are Everything to me you dumb beige bitch. Garak goes a bit aggro in return when he tries to get too close to something tender but honestly odo buddy gooey friend of my heart maybe you shouldn’t barge into this particular glassware shop like a rampaging elephant huh someone’s going to get cut. Also Garak could have refrained from pressing on Julian’s bruises for attention here and we may not have had the rest of the scene, but alas. 

This must be the lunch where we deal with uncomfortable subjects.

“But if Cardassia is liberated from Dominion control …” Odo went on.

“When Cardassia is liberated,” I interrupted.

“Would you return?”

“Would you return to the Great Link?” Odo reacted with sharp annoyance to the question.It wasn’t a fair one, because although we were both exiles, we were in very different circumstances. With the humanoid shape he was still learning to live with, and his deepening relationship with Major Kira, Odo was discovering a new mode of existence, a new link. He had an alternative, however difficult the choice. I didn’t.

“Yes, I know. You can’t say.” I was sorry I had asked again. It was a question he was obviously struggling with.

The feeling Garak seems to have towards Odo in this period where like… you know when you have a friend who has a lot of the same mental health issues as you do and you see them get better and start to flourish and you are genuinely so happy for them but also feel just how deep in the muck you yourself still are with no prospect of getting out. And the way Garak consistently wistfully includes Odo’s romantic relationship to Kira when he observes how he’s coming out of his shell and why he has reasons to stay. 

“Would you return to the same Cardassia?” the doctor asked.

“What do you mean ‘same’?” But I knew perfectly well what he meant.

“To a Cardassia containing the political and social elements that made the current situation possible.”

“My dear Doctor, that’s also the Cardassia that made me possible.” I half-hoped my joke would end this conversation … but I knew better.

Julian baby please read the room and take this up some other time somewhere private maybe (and yet I understand how you wouldn’t think of that until later once Garak’s had a rare public freakout)

Absolutely heartbreaking in every way that garak seems so convinced he must have done something wrong or simply doesn’t have anything more of interest to offer julian and that’s why they’re drifting apart, when a just as likely reading from what’s actually on the page here is that julian feels he keeps getting it wrong and hesitates in case he makes the damage worse. Garak have you considered who this man is before you decided you must have fucked up and resigned yourself to the dark closet of self-isolation tain put in your head. I’m in shambles. 

Also Julian is saying a lot of very true things about Cardassia in this scene that Garak needs to hear and that he’s clearly processing all through the rest of his time on DS9 and beyond, as angry as it makes him, and the good doctor means so well but he IS being incredibly condescending, and he keeps pushing even as Garak is signaling he’d rather not go in depth on this, especially in such an exposed public setting. (This is a conversation they SHOULD be having in private, both for emotional reasons and b/c Garak’s position on this station is a lot more vulnerable than I think Julian realizes, as the hostile comments he immediately starts getting during this convo show.) I mean I guess it’s not this man’s fault he is fundamentally British and autistic what can a bitch do fdjslkfhasj (I say this with all the love in my fellow autistic heart, please do not misunderstand me here). But it’s a very Julian well-meaning but flawed thing to do — he’s focusing on the principle and intellectual side of it, but he’s not taking into account that just maybe having to deconstruct the entirety of your worldview and belief system and then feel responsible for implementing them to create a better world afterwards could be an emotionally fraught process that requires not only reasoned political debate but personal, emotional support from a friend. He isn’t getting that Garak isn’t so much categorically resistant to the basic ideas he’s setting forth — it’s that he wants to be convinced on a practical level that it could even work, because otherwise it’s just a useless pretty picture. 

(Which is a big part of their dynamic on many levels, I’ve always felt. All those times he challenges Julian’s more hopeful and idealistic world view — ultimately he doesn’t do that because he wants to break Julian’s faith down until he agrees with him, he does it because somewhere deep down Garak wants to be convinced. He wants there to be hope somewhere in the world, even if he won’t buy the quick and glorified ‘it’s easy to be a saint in paradise’ Federation version of it. And Julian’s version isn’t that, in the end; it gets tested again and again and he really, genuinely means it, even when it’s hard. Which is one of the most healing things about his presence in Garak’s life overall.) 

Ironically I also think Julian believes so much in Garak and his capabilities that it simply doesn’t occur to him that Garak as a private person might just be like. Too scared and overwhelmed to even contemplate this, at least until Garak is upset enough that he can’t gracefully hide it. (“With your background and experience, Garak, I’m certain that you could serve as a liaison between a new Cardassian government and the Federation.” The Doctor paused and waited for a response. None was forthcoming. “I once suggested that you visit Earth as a member of the Cardassian government-in-exile….” oh so no biggie then Julian that sounds easy and painless and I’m surprised no one has thought to do this yet, this Obsidian Order wilted leftover sandwich of a guy is surely going to be welcomed with open arms wherever he goes among his people fhsdakjfas!)

I feel like this is one of Julian’s less sympathetic traits that he would probably feel such intense self-loathing about once he realized it’s one he shares with his father — this instinct to try to shape someone into a ‘better’ version of themselves. I think Julian’s version of this primarily comes from a much, MUCH kinder place than in his father; he has the will and ability to see the best in the world and in people, and he can’t help but want them to live up to that once he’s seen it. He fundamentally believes people can be better, can be good, when given the help and tools they need, and that’s such a beautiful part of him. BUT along with that there is also a danger of that tipping over into becoming paternalistic and controlling, of overly privileging the ideal you see over the person who is actually there right now, and trying to forcibly change the one into the other ‘for them’.  

Considering Garak’s past experiences of being shaped and controlled by someone else’s idea of what he should be, I’m if anything surprised he doesn’t react worse to this, honestly! I think it speaks to the basic trust and goodness that exists between them that he doesn’t. Julian is clumsy but not malicious, and even here Garak does recognize that on some deep level.   

(Probably because he’s also been touched by Julian at his best, in The Wire — where his support and acceptance is absolute and unconditional, free of the instinct to control anything.)

My voice had risen to an uncharacteristic pitch. It was still ringing in my ears as the Doctor stared at me as if he were studying a baffling microbe. I, too, was baffled. I had no idea where this outburst came from. I know that a distance has widened between us during the past year or so and I know that the holosuite program incident and the revelations of his genetic enhancement are the symptoms of this distance rather than the cause. It’s only natural—we’re very different people. I also know that he had only the best intentions in suggesting that I use the Federation model in order to influence the future of Cardassia. Misguided, yes, and somewhat patronizing and arrogant, but hardly sufficient to elicit this embarrassing and public loss of control.

I mumbled some sad excuse which the good Doctor and Odo were kind enough not to challenge and left the Replimat to return to my shop. As I passed Quark’s I caught his eye and we nodded. Why I included him in my outburst also puzzled me; I rather admire his industry and resourcefulness. I especially admire the way he consistently bends Federation rules so that they work for him.

That’s such a fair evaluation of Bashir’s intentions and personality honestly. Even this upset and feeling that distance between them, Garak still has complete trust in the Doctor’s basic good intentions and nature. (Are you really such very different people at the end of the day, though, Elim. Should the genetic enhancement arc maybe be telling you something here.)

Also such a hilarious element of the Garak-Quark relationship.’Sorry to get you caught up in the crossfire bro I’ve never thought of you as anything but an avaricious opportunist (complimentary)’  

What is important is that I feel that I am necessary, that I function with all my faculties in the service of a greater cause. And while I wait for this invasion, is making Odo more attractive to Major Kira a greater cause?

It is in fact nothing but the greatest cause Garak. Getting Kira happily lovingly laid is priority one at all times. 

- I had no real friends to speak of, and told myself that loneliness was the price I had to pay for success. I considered the games and behavior of my mates to be childish, and that any unnecessary interaction would only distract me from my work. The truth, of course, was that I didn’t know how to forge those kinds of bonds. I wanted to be closer to Eight, and to a lesser degree Five, who besides being one of the great Pit strategists Bamarren ever had was fair in all his dealings.

(I feel like this whole part is going to hit Julian in some kind of way lmao)

Literally just. Put me in a little box on the bottom of the ocean and leave me there forever I can’t go on. Also he’s SUCH a clever-but-socially-inept teenager in this part around the people in his group he doesn’t like fhdkjsa. Ugh they’re all so annoying and fake just leave me alone *eyeroll emoji* I didn’t want to be included in their idiotic conversation bb elim… I would die for your lightly insufferable but entertainingly snarky teenage butt in a way that actually makes me feel more kindly towards my own inner idiot 16 year old.

Also it’s no wonder he’s so out to sea when it comes to interacting with his peers — by all accounts he didn’t play much with other kids as a child and then he’s dropped straight into a social Lord of the Flies piranha tank shot through with Class Shit. 

Inspired by my guide Mila, I would experiment at withdrawing my presence when I had to remain in the same room with people I didn’t like.

Honing his future customer service worker smile 

Here follow some Bamarren and beyond observations I’ve elected to call ‘Sex Stuff’:  

- Oh ok so garak gets some sexual Thing out of being beaten to a pulp after mouthing off through the same mechanism that made spanking known as the ‘English Vice’ across Europe when that was the go-to punishment in British boarding schools. I see. Many things are revealed to me

I looked from the pale, frozen face of Three to the others. They all looked like statues commemorating fear. And I was pleased. I realized at that moment that they were in my control, and that I would no longer have any trouble with them. Especially Three. I felt the power like a drug surging through my system.

And then, of course, the other side of the masochism/sadism scale smoothly coming in, he contains those multitudes. In Garak’s defense idk if you could go through a psychosexual development that wasn’t deeply, deeply weird in this sort of environment 

“What do you want me to do?” I was trembling as if my body were chilled.

Well, I mean. You know fhkdsjha. And he’s rewarded with the first non-aggressive physical contact he’s had here, you say. (For reference he’s talking to Barkan, of the aforementioned ‘manliest presence’.) I’m sure this didn’t awaken anything in him or anything.

“Elim, why do you think we have these ridges?” She stroked the scalloped cords of cartilege and bone that ran along her neck and down her shoulders with a delicacy that stopped my breath. The energy had turned into molten liquid that was now flowing into my groin. The rest of the world was swallowed by complete darkness and I was back inside the tunnel.

“Because … we do,” I replied stupidly.

Fhdjskfhsdjkfhadskjfhas he’s so easy fdsjkfhas. And what a one-two punch of sexual confusion he got there. That one afternoon did irreparable damage to the libidinous development of this poor man and now he has to live like this.

For the second time tonight I was spellbound by another’s passion. In very different ways, Charaban and Palandine held me in their orbit, like powerful suns.

I was learning something new about myself—an emerging desire for power, but a power that had less to do with mastery over others than it did with connecting to them. The way I felt the connection to Charaban … and especially to Palandine.

And, I’m so sorry to have to break it to you like this, your biodad. I’m sorry Elim you’ve got something truly unfortunately Freudian going on here. It’s not your fault.  

“I love the Blind Moon,” Charaban said softly.

“Why is it called that?” I asked, deeply relieved by the mysterious change that had come over us.

“It’s the time for lovers’ assignations,” Palandine answered. “The moon will give them enough light to meet, but not so much for them to be discovered.”

“So if you and Elim were true lovers I wouldn’t have been able to find you,” Charaban teased.

“That’s right, Barkan,” she said with a direct look. I shifted position in the ensuing silence and tried to hide my disappointment with Palandine’s reply, but at the same time, the pleasure I felt in the company of these two people kept growing.

“See?” Palandine suddenly addressed me. “You can do it.”

“What?” I was startled by her delighted burst.

“Smile. Look at that, Barkan. Wouldn’t you tell someone with that smile everything he wanted to know?” she demanded.

“The first time I met him—well, the second…” he corrected himself, “he had a smile that I wanted to wipe off his face.” He was referring to that early morning in front of the Central Gate.

“But it wasn’t that smile,” Palandine insisted.

“No,” he conceded. “Definitely not that one.” And the truth was that I could feel this smile throughout my entire body.

Noooo this is about to go so wrong…it’s all fun and games and bisexual poetry recitation under the blind moon until someone gets stabbed in the back like the Caesar (well caesar notably got stabbed from many many directions but you see what I’m trying to get at here)

- [The Klingon] looked up, and I immediately knew two things about him: he was inebriated beyond reason and he was one of their shock troopers, a callused veteran of hand-to-hand combat. I took a deep breath; as dolts go he was quite impressive. My spirits were suddenly and immeasurably lifted.

“You spoonhead!” he growled at me. I hated that word.

“And you … a great warrior who brings down dabo girls with a single blow,” He looked at me trying to decide if I had insulted or complimented him.

“P’tak!” I shouted, “I mean that you’re the biggest coward in the Klingon Empire,” He released the dabo girl, and as he moved to the narrow stairway I thought that he was also the biggest Klingon in the Empire.

I looked for my advantage. This was not an equal match, and my gigantic friend was in the full flush of a berserker blood lust. I sighed. I’m too old for this, I thought. 

. . .

“Get security, Chief, and tell them to prepare the biggest cell they have … or a smaller coffin for me,” I said as I moved into the alcove and squeezed through the opening where the panel had been. 

 Listen I would apologize for including this here but he’s clearly getting off on this and I couldn’t do anything about it if I wanted to. 

I cannot convey just how much my already intense enjoyment of canon is enriched by the knowledge that Garak is up to these kinds of hijinks constantly in the background when the camera isn’t on him. In his defense he was left unsupervised. O’Brien’s fond mildly exasperated help is just the cherry on top. ‘Well I GUESS Julian would be upset if I let you get beaten to death by a drunk Klingon so fine I’ve got your back’  

(I made for the upper Promenade—and wondered if Calyx might be enjoying this spectacle from wherever he was. ;______; I like how much of an impact Calyx has on his development, considering how briefly he was actually in his life. Plus: Calyx; the Aiglamene of Bamarren? Locked Tomb/DS9 fandom overlap people, Let’s Discuss.) 

“Help me,” he croaked. I was touched by the giant’s childlike surrender. I knew the feeling well.

“I will,” I replied and immediately wondered why I had agreed. I’m getting soft, I thought. 

The greatest joy to me of a lot of this is, like… idk if these are all exactly the things that happened at every turn. In fact I’d say they very likely aren’t, Garak’s entire character taken into consideration. But they are certainly the things he wants someone — someone he trusts as far as he knows how, someone he earnestly wants to be closer to than anyone else, and also wants to see all of him — to know about him, to share in. This could just have easily been a story he told Julian in person over lunch to make him laugh. It’s silly and frivolous and fun, and as much at his own expense as a ludicrous person as to show off. To a true lying liar who lies connoisseur, unreliable narration tells more than it obscures etc. lol  

- (About Barkan) It was the appearance of warmth that made his charm so attractive. A part of me wanted to tell him everything, to challenge the duplicity of his negative evaluation, but the clarity I found in the Lower Prefect’s office was still with me. Looking at him, I was reminded how Palandine had taught me to smile when I asked questions.

Apart from Pythas, who gets his own little twink corner, most of the people Garak is attracted to throughout this are his height or taller and slender but athletic. I’m just saying that when he spotted Julian in the Replimat for the first time he really saw a young man with the face of an angel who is exactly his type fhdjskah maybe he should have seen this coming for himself. Too high on endorphins and hubris to think this would awaken anything in him irrevocably and now he’s stuck with the consequences.  

Why? I asked myself. Why?! For the life of me I could not understand why it was important to her that I respond. Why should she—so beautiful, so alive—be disappointed if I didn’t return her … what? What did she want from me? Friendship? Why me?

I was in turmoil. Her grace and manner, the way she tilted her head and half smiled when she listened, as if everything amused her … it was like a forbidden dream of the unattainable. The attraction was painful because I instinctively knew that while my life would be simpler and more controllable without her, it would also be as drab as my Bamarren uniform.

. . . 

“Are you making fun of me?” It was at that moment, when I asked the question, that I realized just how afraid I was of being the object of her ridicule. She stopped laughing and for the first time she was speechless. 

Losing my entire fucking MIND about how Garak is basically taking Palandine’s place when he approaches Julian at first. Odo and Garak ‘I love you so much I want to become you because it’s the only way I can imagine really being close to you’ handshake meme

Sex stuff end. For now.

I was about to leave when Odo asked about the designs for his “new” sartorial look. I could see that he was masking his concern, so I assured him that the sketches were some of my finest creations, and would be ready within the week. He grunted his thanks and I stepped out onto the Promenade. Love does make fools of us all.

I’m clawing at my face with emotion. Odo… And Garak did finish those sketches even after his moment of existential ennui over them before. 

- Please for the love of god stop putting Six out in the merciless sun T_____T how many times must a poor lil nerd boy pass out before he can rest in the sand etc. 

- “It’s not every evening we find Barkan Lokar strolling with a murk through the Grounds.”

“Lokar? My father buried the Legate, Turat Lokar,” I said without thinking.

“Did your father kill him?” Palandine joked. But I didn’t laugh. The Lokars were a legendary family, and the old man’s funeral was the largest I had ever seen.

Why is this so funny. Garak you are so fucking weird. ‘Oh yeah I know that guy my dad did the flower arrangements for his funeral’ 

- A spirited dabo game involving several Klingons and a serious-looking dabo girl I hadn’t seen before caught my attention. If Quark had been present he’d be giving her one of his congeniality lectures. I truly sympathize with the young woman; if I had to spend all day with these drunken dolts….

Literally so hilarious that’s his first thought. First impulse: ‘surrounded by idiots’ solidarity. Garak what were you doing day drinking at the devil’s sacrament/quarks at midday girl…

- Rom soon appeared with a small container of kanar. He was wearing an outfit I had made for him.

“H-here you are, Garak. I hope you enjoy it.” Ever the gracious host.

“Thank you, Rom. And please, try not to let your collar lie there like a dead targ.” I adjusted the offending fabric, and Rom sweetly tolerated my fussing.

I’m fucking crying what the HELL. Surprise wholesome dynamic that keeps going through the whole narrative. Garak just uncomplicatedly likes and appreciates Rom, with no particular ulterior motive. Plus: fussing is also how we see Mila express affection, like mother like son.   

- I realized as I took a sip of my drink that I was in a dangerous mood. Drinking in the middle of the day. The Doctor would be quite disappointed with me. When I’m unable to immerse myself in work my mind becomes occupied by an invading army of thoughts intent upon conquering all equilibrium and peace. Kanar is a valuable if unreliable weapon I employ against this army. The pills the Doctor gives me are a poor substitute.

Julian, severely unimpressed: uh-huh

‘Would Julian want me to do this to myself? No. However he’s too busy playing soldiers with O’Brien to tell me so, apparently, so that can’t stop me.’ You petty lil bitch garak (affectionate)

The fact that he’s doing the The Little Julian Who Lives In My Head thing already here, where the real Julian is actually around but not engaged with him. I’m so sad. He’s managed to discover shrimp colour spectrums of loneliness and pining.  

- Ever since the Romulan business and Captain Sisko’s near breakdown (outside of the Doctor, whom I told shortly after the incident, no one knows about this, but one recognizes the symptoms), I’ve been obsessed with memories of Bamarren. 

The fact that he tells Julian about that. Presumably partly in a practical way to make sure Sisko doesn’t fall to pieces completely but he doesn’t seem to have any shame about it or expect Bashir to react too badly over it either. The trust…

- I must admit that I was quite taken aback. Evidently there is honor among dolts.

I’m genuinely impressed by how enjoyable it is in this book to be party to Garak’s inner voice. It’s so fun in here, among all the horrors. 

- Nine approached me as I sat alone in our quarters reading the first part of Cylon Pareg’s Eternal Stranger, a saga spanning several generations of a Cardassian family during the early and middle Union.

*whisper of agonized affection* between this and his happy place being studying wormhole theory… he’s such a little nerd. 

Nine swallowed again, an even more bitter taste, and marched off to a life of diminishing returns.

LMAO burn. And, as we shall see, not necessarily inaccurate.  

- As I walked away I heard the custodian ask Tarnal what it was I had done to deserve this punishment.

“Nobody told me. But I know he’s got a mouth on him,” Tarnal replied.

The more things change I guess fdhsakja. Known across the school for being a) a sneaky lil bastard and b) never ever shutting the fuck up when he really really should 

- “And you have to use that wonderful smile of yours more often, Elim.”

“What’s that got to do with listening?” That was the subject, and Palandine had typically made a jump in logic I couldn’t follow. She also forgot that I was a Cardassian male and smiling was not one of our strong features.

“If they feel comfortable with you, people will tell you stories about themselves that will reveal their deepest secrets.”

“But what if the stories aren’t true?” I challenged. “I could smile till my cheeks hurt, and you could tell me any kind of story you wanted—and what would I know about you except what you invented?”

“You would know, if you were truly listening, the kind of story I use to define myself,” she asserted.

“But it’s not the truth!” I maintained.

“Why not? Because it’s not what you believe? Or it doesn’t fit a definition of the truth that someone taught you? Look at people, Elim.” Palandine gestured as if the enclosure were filled with people. “Observe them. The way they walk and talk, the way they hold themselves and eat their meals. That’s what they believe about themselves. Is it the ‘truth’? Are they really that way? I don’t know. Perhaps it is a lie. But what people lie about the most are themselves, and these lies become the stories they believe and want to tell you.”

“As long as I’m smiling,” I mumbled.

. . . 

“Truth, as we’ve learned to define it, is not only overrated,” she went on with a controlled passion, “it’s designed to keep people in the dark.”

This last statement stopped me.

“You mean the way we’ve been taught?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“What about our government?”

“They tell us the stories that we need to know in order to be good citizens,” she replied carefully.

“They don’t tell us the truth, is what you’re saying,” I concluded.

“There you go again. They tell us their truth, Elim, and we are here to learn how to listen.”

. . . 

“Let the ones without power scowl and make fierce faces.You smile. It’s an invitation to connect with another person. And once the invitation is accepted, relax and listen … you’ll come to know as much as you’ll ever need to about that person,” she said with a smile that I greedily accepted.

“You would know, if you were truly listening, the kind of story I use to define myself,” she asserted. 

“But it’s not the truth!” I maintained.

“Why not?” 

SO when I was saying he’s taking Palandine’s place in this dynamic with Julian early on I was not kidding and I was not wrong hahaha. And it’s also what this entire book is, in the end. Trusting Julian to ‘truly listen’ to the story under the stories is maybe the biggest show of trust and vulnerability Garak could ever extend to anyone. Extremely The Wire-core once more.

The idea that tiny Garak was too outwardly glum and serious is. Amazing and brainbreaking. People feeling uncomfortable under his gaze b/c he’ll just like scowl distrustfully at them. Palandine I don’t know if you fixed him or made him worse but you certainly did something fundamental to him and committed him to the bit and for that I cannot thank you enough

- I no longer had Palandine to myself—but surprisingly, I didn’t mind, in fact I was pleased that Charaban was here. His stillness, like everything else about him, had grace and strength. I sneaked another look in his direction and marveled that this was the same person I had first encountered in the storeroom. He returned my look, and in the next few moments a bond grew between us that I had never thought possible. 

You know if Barkan was really smart or had the capacity for extended self-control he would have just kept stringing Garak along as the third in his disastrous marriage. Garak is used to subsisting on the merest scraps of affection and consideration, you’d barely even have to feed him. (Ala Daisuke Jigen with many an evil ex, for the Lupinheads out there lol) A threesome here and there and maybe gently stroking his hair afterwards and you’d have him for life, probably. Alas or perhaps thankfully Barkan is ultimately just an asshole and not that smart. 

- A Bolian client came down the steps outside the door and was about to enter the shop, but for some reason he stopped at the threshold. He looked at us, turned, and went back the way he came.

LMAO that guy was like ‘something really fraught and homosexual is going on here and that is frankly none of my business, as you were gentlemen don’t mind me.’ A real ally and a bro.  

“I’m keeping you from your business.” Bashir stood up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I’m pleased you stopped by.” I was about to escort him to the door.

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“Garak, I come from a culture that has perfected the ‘stiff upper lip,’” he explained with the same faint smile.

“What does that mean?” It was a genuine question; there was a change in his attitude.

“It means that we never complain, never admit to our feelings, never ask for help. It’s just not done,” Bashir explained. “And those people who lack character’ and insist on airing their needs—especially in public—are subject to ridicule… and worse. Does this sound familiar?”

“Perhaps,” I replied softly.

“But I’m also a doctor, Garak. And I know which group of people suffers the most. I really won’t take up any more of your time.” He extended his hand, which he rarely did, and I took it. “Thank you for the tea.” He turned and went out the door.

I stood there for a long moment, deeply upset. I felt trapped within myself, knowing what I had to do to get out but unable even to begin. Yes, Doctor, it does sound familiar. But as to the question of which group suffers the most…

. . . 

After Charaban’s betrayal I became as withdrawn and solitary as I had been when I first came to the Institute. I tried to spend time with Palandine, but it never quite worked out; between her regular duties and the recruitment and planning for the female Competition, she had little time for anything else. But there was something else, a distance that had crept between us that I didn’t understand. I felt ashamed, that somehow I had failed and it was my fault, but I found it difficult to discuss. This was probably the loneliest I had ever been.

1) Going NUTS over the fact that these are separated by ONE paragraph. Andy Robinson staring directly into the camera making parallels between the main love interests in this book like ‘Am I making myself clear here. Do you get it yet’. Also really interesting to make this relationship pattern a, well, pattern in Garak’s life, and not a unique element of his and Bashir’s thing (which Doylistically was basically a byproduct of cowardly 90s standards for tv writing more than anything else lol)

2) But there was something else, a distance that had crept between us that I didn’t understand. I felt ashamed, that somehow I had failed and it was my fault, but I found it difficult to discuss. This was probably the loneliest I had ever been.

 The Palandine/Bashir parallel train barrels on, scoring a deep trail of heartache into my soul. Also in that case it’s so sad because he really hasn’t done anything wrong or anything to be ashamed of, Barkan and Palandine are the ones who fucked him over :’( 

3) I stood there for a long moment, deeply upset. I felt trapped within myself, knowing what I had to do to get out but unable even to begin. + Tolan’s grief at seeing Garak after Bamorren: “He’s hard, Mila,” Father said. . . . “But to the point where he’s unreachable?” Father asked. “Where nothing penetrates? How can he express even his basic needs if he’s trapped inside a shell?” + Just as I had learned to do when Uncle Enabran locked me in that suffocating closet. Was this the universal torture for failure, I wondered?...........................................................................

4) More proof to my eyes that Julian’s side of this whole thing seems to be more about thinking Garak doesn’t actually want him to be there. He doesn’t think he’s welcome here or that he’ll be able to help more than he hurts with whatever’s going on for him. ‘I really won’t take up any more of your time’ AUGH 

Garak buddy… every time he tries to get closer to you or extend some care, you bristle like a hedgehog even though you’re trying to do it in as polite and decent a way as possible — what is the poor guy supposed to think beyond a certain point lmao. (Though on the hopeful/beautiful side… what is this entire book but Garak actually taking the advice/suggestion Bashir gives in this scene to reexperience his past and put it in context — not in the holosuites, but in his own way by writing it all out in a way that makes sense to his Cardassian brain and then sharing that with Julian directly. Like. The last line of the book is ‘You’re always welcome, Doctor’. Elim ‘I will become emotionally healthy enough to ask Julian to come visit with an open heart if it fucking kills me’ Garak)  

I’m so soft for how careful they both are with each other in this scene, though. Even in this difficult place where there’s stuff they don’t understand about each other and they are having difficulty connecting for… several reasons, they are trying so so hard to be good to each other. Which is why I think they have every chance of working out brilliantly long-term; once you’ve got a mutual respect, willingness to keep working to understand and communicate with each other even when it’s difficult, and that fundamental ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ good faith in a relationship you’re a good chunk of the way there, from what I have observed. 

Julian cares that Garak was upset, much more than he cares about being right, and this time he shows it in a more private setting where Garak can take it in. They’re trying!  

5) The implication in But as to the question of which group suffers the most… that Garak also realizes how much he’s hurting Julian by not being able to let him in…

Most of all the fact that Bashir in this scene is like ‘Listen Garak I get emotional repression. I’m literally British.’ is one of the funniest things that happen in the whole book. To me. (I’m Norwegian, culturally this has. Some overlap with my experience, let’s say lol) 

- Six had long since gone home. He wanted to succeed so badly, but his body couldn’t withstand the constant assault of the training. I’m sure he found an academic situation. 

Oh thank GOD. Genuinely so relieved to hear this. This is how many times a nerd boy must pass out before he rests in the sand and gets to go to normal university instead of murderschool, the question is finally answered.  

- Tain has shown up again and I want to throw rocks at him until he goes away. And I know he won’t. 

- My shed has become somewhat more bearable, but the clutter and confinement of the interior space requires that I leave the door open. To keep myself busy when I’m not working with the med unit, Doctor, I am engaged in a project I must tell you about. It baffles me. Perhaps you can tell me if I’m losing my mind altogether.

. . . 

[Parmak] turned to me with the strangest expression on his face—and looked me directly in the eyes for the first time.

AUGH. (Plus, the fact that Parmak consistently calls him ‘Elim’.)

But what baffles me, Doctor, is that I attach no meaning to what I’m doing here. I’m just doing it because I need to. And to be truthful, I don’t see this as a memorial at all. On the contrary—if I could, I’d singlehandedly rebuild this city myself, piece by piece. I stood here watching Parmak’s blood dry on this pile of rubble, engulfed by a feeling of loss and utter mystification as to what these piles mean.

Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor.

This whole section is the biggest mood and I’ve rarely felt closer to a fictional character haha. His quietly dissociated tired bemusement both with himself and what he’s doing and Parmak’s reaction is… yeah that’s exactly what that feels like. And ‘Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor’ has done irreparable damage to my psyche, I’m going to be thinking about this forever

- Palandine gestured that she would deal with me and sent the mate on her way.

“So what did you use me for?” I asked.

“What do we ever use each other for?” she replied without hesitation.

“Answering a question with a question is an old trick, Palandine.”

“No trick. I needed a friend.”

“And you don’t need a friend now” I hated the tone that was creeping into my voice.

“It’s complicated, Elim.”

I was afraid to ask why.

“What did you use me for?” she asked.

The question truly baffled me. I only wanted her love. Was that using her? I would gladly have given mine in return.

Still gnawing on concrete over Garak partially reenacting Palandine’s way of approaching him with Bashir in the beginning. At that point he also needed a friend (and he needed someone to run to Sisko like ‘THE SPY TALKED TO ME :D’ to deliver intel through so he was also using him lol.) The way Garak picks up traits from the people he loves like he’s doing the soul version of Odo’s shapeshifting-as-closeness thing because it’s the only way he knows. 

- “So it’s Eight,” he said, dismissing me from his world.

“I don’t think you understand, Barkan….” Palandine began to say.

“It’s not necessary that he understand,” I dismissed him from my world.

Barkan… you did not understand what you were doing, getting into an emotionally and sexually charged petty-off with this man. RIP your stupid ass I guess lmao

“I wanted to tell you. But when I realized … I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said with a gentleness that rankled me.

“I’m not hurt. Neither one of you can hurt me. I wish you a successful… partnership.”

Palandine is so interesting!!!! And like here’s one of the things that I think make a big difference in Garak’s relationship with Palandine vs. his relationship with Julian — who tells him exactly the same thing in ‘The Wire’, after all! (I don’t want to hurt you) Because Palandine doesn’t really mean it, does she? She doesn’t mean ‘I don’t want you to be hurting, I want to protect you from being harmed’, she means ‘I didn’t want to be the thing that hurt you; I didn’t want to be faced with your hurt’, while she is doing things that will inevitably hurt him. I think there is genuine affection and care on her side, but they’re in such a fucked up, brutal world and they’re so young. 

‘I’m not hurt. Who’s hurt’ says teen crying quiet tears of blood as his world falls to pieces 

“I love him, Elim. And I’m also ambitious. I want what he wants. You’ll understand this when you find someone to share your….”

Not me wondering how much of this has echoes to Mila’s relationship to Tain and how that’s part of what Garak reacts to — that survival mechanism of ‘I want what he wants’, subsuming and submitting yourself completely. Which of course is what a Cardassian is supposed to do to the state, and that Garak also does with Tain for the vast majority of both of their lives. The worst part is that Palandine really had some reason to hope for more — she and Barkan start out in a more equal position than it’s implied Mila and Tain ever did, that’s always framed as an inter-class thing, and while Palandine’s family situation is not as grand as Barkan’s it doesn’t seem like it crosses the service class/ruling class barrier. But the structure of the state imposed on every level of society right down to the most intimate and personal areas of life is going to crush the life out of that hope real fast. I’m sorry girl. Wanting to have a fighting chance in this world isn’t the worst sin anyone’s committed and tbf you are like a teen by all accounts

- “My name is Elim Garak. I don’t know where I’m being sent, but I hope you’ll remember me as your friend.”

“When I was told today that I was One Lubak, I was honored… and afraid that I’d lose you as a friend. Thank you. My name is Pythas Lok.”

Neither one of us ever took our eyes off Mila, who was still trying to blend into his surroundings.

Crying gently into my cereal

Garak ‘I wasn’t sure I could ever call him a friend’ vs. Pythas ‘Afraid that I’d lose you as a friend’

Something powerful was stirring deep inside me, and I began to shake. Mila snapped his head to the side, the way he does when he senses light or heat change. Convulsive waves pushed up from my center and tears filled my eyes, blinding me. I had absolutely no control over what was happening to me. By the time the convulsions subsided and my eyes cleared, Mila had disappeared into the rock-and-sand home he came from. 

Absolutely sobbing my eyes out into my cereal 

Spoiler warning: Garak having to go somewhere to be alone after something calamitous happens in his life because that’s the only way he can cry is a theme that will reemerge later and do unspeakable emotional damage to me personally haha

As I hiked back to the Institute, I had the thought that maybe somebody was doing the same thing for me and bringing me back home.

No baby you see someone is doing the exact opposite of this to you right now because you have a basic goodness and capacity for real honest love that Tain doesn’t and he’ll never in a million years set you free just because he loves you and it’s the right thing for you 

- And Jadzia is gone. The station is a sadder and grayer place without her. I’m surprised at how keenly I feel her absence. Even though I know that her symbiont has been “joined” with another person … well, it’s not the same, is it? Indeed, knowing that Jadzia’s personality is somehow contained along with several others within this other person, I wonder how I would react if we were ever to meet.

:(

The doctor has reminded me that these are personal choices, and it’s not for us to judge how one chooses to mourn. Quite so. Who can even begin to understand another’s grief? “Do you judge people by the clothes they ask you to make?” the doctor asked once. I bit back my response, but the point was well taken.

:’) little soul-healing brush of Julian kindness time 

- “What does Tir Remara want with you?” Colonel Kira demanded, ignoring my offer of tea. Immediately an entire picture formed in my head of the scenario her abrupt question suggested: Tir Remara—a spy, perhaps even a changeling, preying upon a lonely Cardassian who was working for the Federation and engaged in top-secret work.

“She wants to have my children,” I replied with a serious look.

“You can’t be serious,” she managed.

“I’m not. Now do you want this tea or not?”

Kira should just have strangled you all those times she wanted to you snarky asshole fhdskja

[indieyuugure]

You said that you use Procreate for drawing, but what do you use for lettering? I know a lot of procreate comic artists import the pages to another program for the lettering and was wondering if you do the same.

btw love your comics I get so excited Saturday when you update, the first thing I do when I wake up is read it :)

People important their files into other programs for lettering? That sounds like a huge hassle! No, I use the “text tool” in Procreate, lol

On the top tool bar I go to the wrench, which then I go to the sub-group “add” then I click “add text”

Then I get like a little text bubble that is can type whatever. There’w no limit to the amount of characters and the font is easy to change.

I’ll type what I want and click the “Aa” in the top right corner of my keyboard to take me to the font editor. Procreate has tons of fonts preinstalled, but I’ve also downloaded tons of fonts off the internet.

In my comics I use the font “Jack Armstrong BB” in “regular” for the majority of the text. I use italic for thoughts and then bold italic for exclamations, annunciations and other loud expressions. I also use the font under it, “Japanese Robot,” in all caps italic as my sound effects, though I downloaded that one. It doesn’t come with the program.

So yeah, I just fit the text to be where I want it and boom, there you go!

I will say though that for larger speech bubbles like the ones you more commonly see in ROTP, there’s some tricks to getting the text to be in an elliptical shape.

If you want detail on getting an elliptical shape, you can ask, but essentially just set it to center alignment and press the enter key wherever you want the text to stop and go to the next line until you’re satisfied with the shape.

Good question! :]

[astragreenwoode]

♡Truest Treasure (Adventure Time Petrigrof AU)♡ PT 5/?

(A/N: Part 5. Finally, we've gotten to the events of the main show. About to get really spicy, so I hope you eat it up like I have been writing this.)

♡ My AU where pretty much everything is the same as in canon except Betty is unknowingly pregnant with her and Simon’s daughter when she jumps through the portal.

Italics - A/N

Slashed Text - NSFW

Bold Text - Sensitive Topics

Part of the Madness

♡ Betty’s whole arrival in Ooo is such a blur for her: jumping a thousand years into the future, beating the absolute shit out of Bella Noche, and finding and losing Simon again all in one day. It's all pretty overwhelming.

♡ Also, MAGIC IS REAL?

♡ She finds refuge in Wizard City. She's gained a bit of a reputation since defeating Bella Noche and bringing magic back to those who it was stolen from. Also, Finn was the only human in Ooo up until now. So where exactly did she come from?

♡ As fascinating as this new world was, Betty had bigger problems to worry about; all her meds were back on the bathroom counter a thousand years in the past. Without them, her intrusive, and often dark thoughts returned frequently. The need for more repetition and counting was more strong. Her mood rapidly changed like a game of hot and cold. And the withdrawal symptoms hurt like hell.

♡ She takes shelter in a tall, hollow tree, not far from Wizard City. The entrance is hidden by curtains of leaves and moss. Huntress Wizard helped her find it and gave her a few things to get her settled.

♡ To get by, Betty goes on quests for lazy wizards. They're the wizards who are too weird, cowardly, or stubborn to get ingredients/artifacts for spells and whatnot. They pay her either with money, favors, magic lessons, or trade items she needs.

♡ Betty briefly crosses paths with the main cast; Finn and Jake, Marcy and Bonnie, etc.

♡ Without her meds, Betty is sometimes too adventurous and borderline suicidal whenever she goes on a quest for someone.

♡ She spends a lot of her free time in Turtle Princess’ Library, learning all she can about the history of this strange world she found herself in. Betty gets so lost amongst all the books that she sometimes spends the night or multiple nights there.

♡ Sometimes, she'll catch Simon loitering around. Betty avoids him at all costs, hiding in another room or section of the library. It's too painful to face him. She finds herself breaking down if she looks at him for too long.

♡ After being in Ooo for a month, she's close to completely going insane. Huntress Wizard mixed up an elixir for her to help her mental state when they first met. Unfortunately, it's difficult to make.

♡ She asks each wizard she works with and observes if they can help her cure Simon. Everyone turns her down, saying it's impossible. That is until Magic Man enters the scene.

♡ MAGIC MAAANN!!!

♡ He knew next to nothing about who Betty was. Of course, he had noticed her around other Ooo with other wizards and going on quests and junk. Beyond that, all he knew was what others had been saying about her through gossip.

♡ Wizards LOOOVVE to gossip, btw.

♡ Magic Man finds out for himself one day what this mysterious human is actually like. Her general demeanor and personality reminded him of Margles; she was also impulsive and stubborn. A little bit crazy, too.

♡ But when he finally gets the chance to speak with her, Betty's brain is basically attacking her; she's talking non-stop about things that don't make sense to anyone, keeps laughing every once in a while for no reason, and scratches her arms so much that they bleed.

♡ He can tell she's pregnant right away with his wizard eyes. But more on that later.

♡ Completely weirded out (which is a hard thing to do to him), Magic Man suddenly decides he needs a little character development and NOT behave like a total dingwad for once. . .at least at first.

♡ He knocks Betty out with a spell and takes him to his house, putting her in a straightjacket and chaining her ankle to the floor of his bedroom just in case she does anything to harm herself again.

♡ Understandably, she freaks out when she wakes up. Magic Man lets her wear herself out when she screams and cries for like an hour or so before coming back in. He tells Betty he'll only let her out when he's sure she's not suicidal, anymore.

♡ After she calms down, he unchains her and takes off her straightjacket before offering a shower and fresh clothes..

♡ “Why?”

“Whaddya mean ‘why?’ Because you stink, dipstick! I traced your stench from Wizard City all the way to that Glob-damned tree of yours. That's why.”

“Fuck you, man!”

“Promise?”

♡ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

♡ All the clothes he gives her were once Margles’, by the way. He thinks Betty's really cute and he’s kinda trying to get laid, okay? He's a weird fucking creeper like that. Don't act like he wouldn't do that.

♡ They spend three days together until he decides she's no longer suicidal. Magic Man plays therapist with her and teases and jokes about all her problems.

♡ When he learns about her connection to the Ice King (or is it ‘Simon’ now? He doesn't care which. He's a jerk), he agrees to help teach Betty magic. Not that he believes it's possible to cure him, although he is curious. It's fun to watch her try. And he likes having her around. My dude may be an ass hat, but he's lonely.

♡ After the three days are up, he gives her some supplies and sets her free. He even gives her a more enhanced elixir that lasts longer for half the dosage.

♡ Now that Betty has an okay lead on fixing Simon, she has hope again for the first time since arriving in Ooo.

♡ Oftentimes, Betty hovers over the Ice Kingdom and observes him. Even though it hurts, she pushes through it like she's punishing herself.

♡ She goes back to Wizard City to observe other wizards and do her own research on magic. Magic Man meets her for lessons once a day.

♡ Tiny Manticore tries to warn Betty how dangerously insane Magic Man really is. Obviously, she doesn't listen. They do become sort of acquaintances, though.

♡ After a couple weeks of teaching, Magic Man becomes a little too. . .comfortable with her.

♡ “Sooooo. . .I'm not sure if you noticed, but Ooo’s human population is in the single digits zone. But Ive read all about you and I heard you guys are. . .pretty sexual creatures.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“It's whatever you want it to mean, Princess.”

“I’M NOT GOING TO SLEEP WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING WEIRDO!!”

“Yeah. . .we’ll see.”

♡ Even though he knows he's taking advantage of her vulnerability and her fragile state of mind, he still pursues her. He misses Margles'. Betty misses Simon. It would be beneficial for both of them to use each other in an attempt not to feel so lonely anymore. Right?

♡ Betty would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it. She missed Simon so much. She missed being touched, too.

♡ Within a day of their last conversation, Betty experiences an intense drop in her mood. Overwhelmed by everything that she has been through lately, she turns to Magic Man in need of comfort, craving to be held and touched. He's more than glad to ‘help.’

♡ He lets her ride him before testing the waters further, pulling her hair and treating her like a ragdoll. she begs to be used, to be fucked harder and harder. It helps her forget everything bad for a while.

♡ This becomes their regular pastime.

♡ Since Magic Man’s also a total goofball, it shows during sex. Completely unprompted, as Betty’s close to cumming, he’ll wave his hands and say “Hey. Wanna see a magic trick??”

♡ He uses magic to make her orgasms more intense.

♡ Their relationship is. . .it's complicated. Let's just leave it at that.

♡ Betty's hair is a shade or two darker than the sand on Mars. It reminds Magic Man of home.

♡ Yes. Tiny Manticore can hear and occasionally see everything they're doing.

♡ He finds it hot in the beginning, just watching them like a total perv. Eventually, he gets tired and annoyed by it. They're both horny freaks, we know, but. . .how the fuck do they have that much stamina????

♡ No amount of therapy will ever make this bullshit okay.

♡ It’s no secret Magic Man is the biggest Jerk in all of Ooo. And he is just as bad in the sheets. He gets off on the power he holds over Betty, and how dependent she is on his company since she can’t be with Simon.

♡ Magic Man doesn't say anything to Betty about her unknown pregnancy until a month after they started their whole ‘friends with benefits’ dynamic when he saw her throw up for the first time.

♡ “What's the matter, Betty? Did the plague finally come back and take you as its first victim??”

“No, you asshole. It's just a stomach bug. Eating wild fruit will do that to you.”

“Yeah, sure. It could be a big. Or. . .”

“‘Or,’ what?”

“Maybe. . .you got knocked up???”

“That's. . .that's not funny.”

“Was it supposed to sound funny?? Am I laughing??”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. Can't be.”

“Are you suuurre?? When's the last time Mother Nature visited and spilled red wine where the sun don't shine, Bethany???”

♡ Even though they're both irresponsible and nasty AF, they take precautions. Magic Man never finishes inside of Betty. But he's only genetically compatible with other Martians, so it doesn't matter either way.

♡ Over the next few weeks of studying magic, MMS, and fucking around with each other, Magic Man teases Betty at least once a day about being pregnant. She always brushes him off, thinking he's just messing with her like he normally does.

♡ At the same time, she can't deny that her mood swings are more intense than usual, her breasts are swelling, and she's craving odd combinations of food.

♡ Just the very thought of having a baby without Simon beside her was enough to send her into a panic attack. She couldn't be a parent if she wasn't properly medicated like she was a thousand years back in the past. What if she hurt her baby? What if she accidentally killed it? It hurt too much to think about. So, she didn't.

♡ It isn't until after she does the ritual with Magic Man to make him the king of Mars that she realizes he was telling the truth.

♡ Having MMS suddenly forced upon her, along with the overwhelming amount of knowledge of the universe now in her head didn't help. With her new Wizard eyes and awareness of her body, Betty could no longer lie to herself about what was happening to her.

♡ “LATERS!!!”

Reblog, follow me, and come back for Part 6!

[iwadori]

Mind sharing some good tips to improve your writing? Have a good day.

Okay so idk why you asked me since um yeah but to improve your writing

I can only really say this for the types of works I do since I’m not good at Drabbles or time stamps

Btw this may not be helpful at all cause half the time I do not know what I’m doing sooooooo

Empress’ guide to how she goes about her angst to fluff works and writing in general

I have a formula in the way their set out so it goes context on the relationship and then the problem which causes the angst then the actual angst and then the fluff.

But like I used to start all my works like this in bullet point basic form which is fine but if you want to improve you

Can instead of doing bullet points

Write it in an actual format and with this way it’s easier to like get into the angst if that makes sense because before I used to just waffle on and on and not really get to the point and it’s good to not have your works be so fast paced but people don’t really like it when you’re dragging on and not getting to the point.

You can format it a different way tho with the angst coming first to really “grip people in” to the actual problem and then give context in the middle

Yeahhh so that’s on structuring.

BUT when it comes to actual writing here’s some small things you can do to improve your writing

- change the word said to other verbs so like

“I love you Y/N” he said

Change that too

“ I love you Y/N” he exclaimed, or he expressed

- add adverbs not too many tho

So jumping off my speech thing add an adverb so like “I love you Y/N” he expressed bashfully

Something like that or instead of an adverb add extra things like

“I love you Y/N” he expressed, adoration sparkling in his eyes.

Also another writing improvement

- learn how to paragraph properly

- learn how to format speech properly (NEW SPEAKER NEW LINE)

- if your work is 1K+ words add a read more (put it in somewhere which is a smart place)

That’s all I got and I don’t know if that was helpful but in conclusion :

- context, angst, fluff or angst, context, fluff

- descriptive words (talk about the readers and the characters feelings but don’t do it TOOO much)

- add verbs and adverbs

- don’t add emojis or text abbreviations in your work. (Some people don’t mind them but like that’s just a personal preference)

- add italics on specific words to emphasise things (don’t overdo it though)

- try to get to the point but don’t make it too fast paced

- if you’re doing angst to fluff and the angst is too much then don’t make y/n just like forgive the guy you can have fluffy endings if you want it to seem more realistic

You can read some of my old works for reference and compare it to my new works to see the improvements in my writing and magpie some of that

This was longer than I thought if you want to know about more specific things then ask more questions and I’ll answer them I hope this could be of help

[amandaoftherosemire]

Hey Pretty

Fandom: Marvel AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,133

Format: One-shot

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, sexting, language, masturbation (male and female), descriptions of explicit images, sexual intercourse, minor dom/sub dynamics if you squint.

Summary: Steve wakes up from dreaming about you while away on a mission. Sexting and smut ensue.

A/N: I spent most of August working on getting back into writing in between catastrophes. Why this manifested in a smutty, fluffy bit of Steve fic, I don’t know, but I’m not really worried about it. I am a little concerned that this gives away that my kink is people doing what I tell them, but I also imagine I’m not the only one who think it would be a lot of fun to tell Steve Rogers what to do.

I had this done a while ago but hadn’t found a moment to proofread and post it because I started a new job. Then my state’s seasonal wildfires went crazy thanks to record winds and everything fell apart again. Then it settled into a white-knuckled waiting game while we literally prayed for rain. Now that it’s pouring once again, I could sit down for five minutes to shine it up and post it. I hope y’all enjoy. :)

Texts from you in Bold.

Texts from Steve in Italics.

Hey Pretty

The air was close and thick, each breath in hot and slow as syrup. Every one of those humid breaths carried the warm seductive scent of sweat and sultry sex into his head, his mind, leaving him lost. The taste of salt and sweet on his mouth vied with the sensation of silken skin as his lips and hands slid over soft flesh, seeking both to feel and be felt.

Soft whimpers and low moans poured into his ear along with gentle, demanding whispers that set his brain and body ablaze. Every part of him yearned to fulfill every request, satisfy every need. All he wanted in return was to saturate his senses in the endless pool of desire into which he’d fallen.

When soft hands slid into his hair to clench and grip, his willpower broke. As he moved to give in, to let himself be taken over by desire, by pleasure, he woke gasping and hard enough to cut glass.

Staring at the ceiling of a motel room he shared with a friend and teammate, Steve focused on keeping his breathing slow and silent. He didn’t want to wake Sam, whose soft, even snores sounded from across the room. He valiantly tried to ignore the fact that it would take maybe three strokes of his hand to finish what dreaming of you had begun.

Folding his hands behind his head, he attempted to put the dream out of his mind by going over the mission he’d be running in a few short hours. He failed almost immediately, his imagination too detailed, his senses too keen, his memory too clear. You haunted him.

He could too easily recall the scent of your hair, the softness of your skin, the sweetness that he'd discovered lay just a little under the surface. He’d only needed to scratch a little to find it.

Steve gave up and rolled to his side to snatch up his phone. He’d typed out I miss you and hit send before he could think better of it. As soon as it was gone, he wished the words back, still anxious about showing too much vulnerability, not to mention breaking protocol by texting anyone while on this mission. Doing quick mental math to figure out what time it was back in New York, he waited, a little worried, for your answer.

You have literally no chill, Rogers. You’re lucky you’re so sexy.

Steve grinned at your response, his tension dissipating in the rush of electricity he always felt when you teased him, your warm humor lighting him up, the first of a thousand things he’d fallen for. Any contact with you, any reminder of you could rocket through him and make him shine. The smell of your perfume, the sound of your voice, your words on a screen, anything you did filled him up and steadied him, no matter how empty or fragile he felt.          

Hey, pretty. I miss you too btw.

His heart sighed when your second text came through. You were sharp and strong and since the moment you’d come striding into his life in combat boots and covered in attitude, he’d been riveted, unable to resist you. When you’d turned the sweet sunshine beneath the attitude on him, he’d been captivated, unable to refuse you.

I was dreaming of you. Woke up and needed you.

Steve stared at the message for a moment with his heart pounding. He'd gotten better at this kind of honesty, but it still terrified to step out on the ledge. He hit send before he could rethink it and then rewrite it until he sent nothing at all. You'd never yet made him regret telling you how he felt. He was starting to trust that you never would.

Must have been some dream to have you breaking radio silence during a mission. Good? I hope?

He grinned, practically able to hear your wry, seductive tones as he read your message. That sultry, smirking attitude had drawn him in from the beginning and had only wrapped him more and more tightly the more time he spent with you. By the time he’d worked up the nerve to ask you out, he’d already fallen half in love with that alone.

Us. The night before I left.

His heart sped a little more at the images flashing across his mind. A mixture of the heated imaginings of his unconscious mind and the memories of the one and only night he’d spent with you had his skin running with heat even as the erection that refused to abate hardened almost painfully.

Ahhhhhh. I love it. Tell me everything.

Steve stifled a laugh at your answer. He’d swear he’d never met anyone like you. Tough and terrifyingly efficient during business hours, he’d never imagined the hidden depths he would find as you'd slowly let him in. Under that fierce exterior, he'd first found a warm and generous humor, then a soft and generous heart. He'd most recently been delighted to discover an avowed and generous hedonist in your bed.

I shouldn’t. I’m sharing a room with Sam.

He felt a brief twinge of regret, wondering what you'd have said or done if he'd told you about his dream, if he'd been alone and free to do so. The full intimacy that had just blossomed between you had followed an intense courtship where he'd learned how diabolically patient you could be. He'd long since discovered your ability to drive him wild from a distance.

You’re so fucking adorable. I bet you could get some privacy in the bathroom.

Heart kicking, Steve immediately moved to get out of the bed. Whatever you had in mind, he knew he needed privacy to deal with it. Not that he wasn't certain he'd like it. He always enjoyed letting you have your way with him, no matter the situation. Tapping out a quick reply, he moved as silently as he could to the bathroom.

Do I need privacy?

Shutting and locking the door behind him, he waited for your answer with bated breath.

For what happens next, yes.

Steve dropped down onto the closed lid of the toilet when his knees went weak. Anticipation had his heart already pounding in his ears.

Okay. I’m in the bathroom. What happens next?

His mind raced with possibilities as his skin ran hot. He’d learned from experience that you could always surprise him, especially with the creative turns your mind could take. He’d long since given himself into your hands with no regrets.

Turn the shower on cold.

At least, he’d had no regrets until now. Steve frowned at his phone but stood to comply with the command even as he hoped you weren’t about to send him into a cold shower. You had a wicked sense of humor so he wouldn't put it past you to be having fun with him.

Unless you want Sam to hear you.

Steve grinned, relieved and yet edgy, and shivered in anticipation. He could almost feel your breath on his neck, could almost hear the sultry undercurrent to your voice. He loved it when you had fun with him like this, was happy to take your orders, especially when those orders took on this tone.

At the end of your first date, you’d seen through him to the twitchy anxiety he'd been poorly hiding. Instead of the disdain he'd feared, you'd responded by taking his face in your hands to kiss him for the first time. That sweet first kiss had spun out when he’d forgotten his anxiety in the gentle press of your lips against his. He’d fallen completely under your spell when you’d whispered against his mouth, “Why don’t I tell you what I want, Steve, so you don’t tie yourself in knots trying to figure it out?” The relief he'd felt at the mere thought had allowed him to kiss you properly the second time.

Since that day, you'd made good on that offer in a thousand ways, leading him on a tempestuous journey of affection and fun with an honesty so sweet and hot that it left him putty in your hands. All you’d asked in return was that he be equally honest about what he felt, what he wanted.

Done.

Hands shaking a little, he kept his eyes on his phone as he waited for the next step. He was certain now you were about to lead him on an adventure. Though he knew he shouldn't follow, knew he could tell you he wasn't comfortable and you'd easily segue into something light and probably funny, he also knew he wasn't going to stop this. He'd told you he'd woken needing you; he wasn't surprised that you'd offer to give him what he needed.

Have a seat. ;)

The winking smiley face was your way of letting him know you were fully up to no good and if he wanted out now, he should speak up. He adored how careful you were to make sure he was fully on board with whatever you wanted to do. You took care with him but wrapped it in a warm humor that was almost as seductive as the tenderness underneath.

Now take that pretty cock out and wrap your hand around it.

Steve was grateful you'd told him to sit down as his knees turned to water in the rush of lust that blew through him. The hand not holding his phone moved to obey even as he let out a shuddering breath of reaction. Knowing he had to be quiet or risk embarrassing himself made his heart race in either anxiety or excitement, he wasn’t ever really sure when you tempted him out onto ledges like this. His chest tightened, his breath choking in his lungs, making him feel like he was on the verge of an asthma attack, if he still had those.

But every other time he'd followed you into this sensation, he'd found nothing but pleasure and passion on the other side. He wasn't going to back out now. As he pushed his underwear down his other hand tapped out a quick reply.

Yes, ma'am.

Steve's brain offered up the image of your slow, wicked smile whenever he gave in to your demands and his desires. He loved that his obedience to your commands brought you as much excitement as it did him. He loved knowing he could please you, loved that you never left him in doubt as to how.

You're so pretty. Does it feel good?

God

Yes

Steve didn't move, his hand wrapped around his cock but not stroking, not yet. Not until you told him to start.

Mmm. What were we doing in your dream the moment you woke up?

That 'mmm' stood in for the sultry laugh that came out of you whenever you were deliberately teasing him. The thought of that tease, that laugh had his dick twitching in his hand. You knew he adored the slow build, had taken your time working him up to the night he'd spent with you right before leaving on this mission. He'd loved every minute of it, thoroughly enjoyed the odd paradox of frustration mounting through repeated satisfaction. Making love to you, at last, had been glorious.

His breathing already ragged, the memory of that night in the soft romance of his dream drifted across his mind's eye. You'd been sweeter that night than he'd ever known possible, tender in your demands, gentle in your requests. A night unlike any other in his experience, he'd never expected the dark and debauched to be so bright and beautiful.

I was sliding inside you for the first time. I could have cried when I woke up.

Muscles quivering with the effort to stay still, Steve waited. He wasn't disappointed.

Pretty. Are you as hard now as you were then?

Almost

Oh, I wanna see. Would you take a picture? Send it to me?

Steve bit his lip to stifle the moan that wanted to lift out of him. He was more certain now that it was excitement, not fear, but he felt a prickle of anxiety run up his spine, nonetheless. Not only was he naturally shy, he was uncomfortably famous. He examined how he felt, and decided quickly, typing his response and hitting send just as a text from you came through.

Yes ma'am.

I'll go first, sweetie.

Steve quite simply melted. He adored the strong and sarcastic, but he had no defense against the sweet and kind. The way you’d asked combined with the endearment you only used when you were being particularly tender eased every fear, every worry. Still feeling shy, he nonetheless lifted the phone to snap a picture of his achingly hard cock in his still motionless fist.

As he was preparing to send it, however, your picture came through. He whimpered at the sight of you on his screen, pink and glistening. His hand reflexively tightened, and he started to moan aloud before he remembered himself. His cock hardened to the point of pain as he locked his muscles, resisting the urge to move his hand for a little relief.

Panting, he snapped another picture, knowing you’d love to see what the image of your fingers sliding over and through and into your pretty cunt did to him. He’d already been flushed and on the edge. Looking at you, remembering how you’d felt moving under his hands only intensified the sensation of aching need and the red heat that suffused his skin. He sent you both pictures with a text that read, How do you do this to me?

Mmm. Did my picture get you that excited?

God yes

You’re killing me doll

Me too sweetie. So fucking hot. Go ahead and start sliding your hand up and down that gorgeous cock of yours, pretty.

Steve shuddered in relief as he slowly began to move his hand, though the way you spoke to him had his stomach muscles tightening with lust. He bit his lip to hold back the moan of pleasure, the sensation made more intense by the wait. His eyes fixed on the picture you’d sent, he imagined replacing your fingers with his own.

I like that you were dreaming of me. I loved taking you. Being taken by you.

Another groan tried to escape as Steve tried to type despite the pleasure running over his skin. His hand moved faster as wetness spread over the head of his cock and eased the motion.

God me too. It was so good. I’ve dreamt of you every night this week.

"Oh, fuck!" Steve whispered the words in a voice tight with lust as his hand began to speed. You'd sent him another picture and the sight was more than he could stand. The photo was taken from the same vantage point he'd have if he was about to use his mouth on you, the memory of which had him thrusting mindlessly. The smooth columns of your thighs framed your pleasure as you arched under your own hands. Your body was bared and beautiful and your eyes glowed with power and promise. Slick and wet, his hand moved more quickly over his cock as memories of you over him, under him seared his mind.

Do you want to do filthy things to me, pretty?

Steve's mind exploded with possibilities and immediately triggered the climax he'd been trying to hold back. Reliving the glory of being inside you, of making you cry out in ecstasy, he came with a soft groan, shuddering as he coaxed every last quake of pleasure from his body. Panting and boneless, he lay in awe of your ability to wreck him even when you weren't there.

His hand shaking slightly, he tapped out the first thing that came into his head.

And you call me pretty. You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t hold back.

Too heavy for his neck, Steve let his head fall back, resting it against the wall behind him as he tried to catch his breath. He found himself once again awed and baffled by your ability to tempt him so easily into situations that he couldn't have even imagined before he met you.

Mmm. Are you a mess? Show me?

Blushing rosy red against the creamy skin of his face, neck, and chest, he lifted his phone to take another picture. Angling the camera to capture both his naked body and his shy smile, he snapped a photo he knew would make you crazy. You loved to see what you did to him, loved to see him sated, soaked in pleasure. When you went to such sweet effort to bring him to this point, he couldn't see how it was fair to deny you the evidence.

So sexy. I love it. I’m so close. Tell me about your dream

Steve smiled at your response, gratified by the knowledge that he could drive you as wild as you drove him. He wondered if you were making the little whimpers in your throat yet. He could always tell when you were about to let go, when he'd pushed you up and over the edge.

I was touching you. Sliding my hands all over you. You’re so soft.

Not sure how to continue, Steve hit send. The dream had been nothing but sensation, hot breath and slick skin. He paused a moment, considering the best way to describe for you the images his subconscious had conjured. As he weighed his words, a picture of you came through.

Tousled and smiling, your face had taken on that particular softness his perfect eyesight had memorized in recent weeks. Saturated in pleasure, your face only looked this sweetly relaxed after you were satisfied.

Mmm. Pretty. You fuck me so good, baby.

Steve laughed softly, exhilarated if a little shocked at how easily he always let you lead him into temptation, let you take over. Other attempts at relationships since he'd come out of the ice had always ultimately failed when he couldn't relax enough to be himself. But being with you was as easy as breathing, in no small part because you so confidently took command.

Looking down at himself, he shook his head at the mess you'd once again made of him.

How do you do this to me?

Standing up, Steve set his phone on the counter and glanced at the washcloth hanging on the towel bar. He figured he'd need a shower before he started the day anyway and it was close enough to dawn that he was done with sleep for now. When your message came through, he smiled at your unrelenting sweetness.

You let me. Don’t forget to turn the hot water on before you get in that shower.

Except I might still need to cool off.

Can’t argue with that. Go get the bad guys, then get your ass back to me.

Yes, ma’am.

Your heart kicked into high gear when you heard that the quinjet had touched down.

Steve was home.

Steve, with his serious eyes and hands so gentle it almost ached where he touched, would soon be walking through your office door for debriefing. And you were expected to cope with that.

Steve Rogers, a man with a heart as good as it was wild, was enchanted with you. The very idea was still largely inexplicable to you. You'd never been the sort to argue with a good thing, however, and you certainly weren't going to start now. What mattered was that you were making each other happy, that he was as sweet as he was sexy and you clicked in a way that you'd never expected but for which you were profoundly grateful.

That didn't mean that you knew how to handle it.

The whole thing had started so innocently, lunchtime walks over the grounds of the compound. Steve had started coming by your office in the middle of the day, his excuse that he wanted to make sure you weren’t chained to your desk, get you moving. You’d thought he was simply being himself, kind and caring and a little overly conscientious.

Over the course of those walks, however, you’d become friends, and dear friends, but you’d never expected anything more. He was so careful, so guarded, you'd never realized that you were seducing him with your playful teasing and genuine interest in the man behind the shield. When, after a couple of months of those daily walks, he’d asked you to dinner with the dread of rejection sick in his smile, you’d been completely shocked.

You didn’t know it, but your complete surprise at his invitation had been utterly unexpected; Steve had thought himself painfully obvious in his crush. Your astonishment, followed by a slow, delighted grin spreading across your face, had made Steve’s heart jump in anticipation. Your reply, voice full of fun and mischief, "Steven, I would love to have dinner with you; I like a pretty view while I eat," had made him blush and smile in a way that had made your heart pound like a drum.

That first date had been wonderful, an extension of those daily walks but with a new dimension revealed by the change in your relationship. You were flirting with purpose now, not simply to tease a friend. He was so adorable, you couldn't resist, his blushing, gratified smiles too tempting.

When he'd walked you to your door, the sick dread was back in his smile and you'd had an epiphany. Making the first move was agony for someone like Steve. Having to put his true self on the line to be accepted or rejected at the whim of another was a nightmare for him. You could see he was terrified of the moment he'd have to lean in to kiss you good night, dreading the possibility that you might turn him away.

As you reached your door, you'd turned to him with a sultry smile and slid your hands up and over his gorgeous chest, something you'd been fantasizing about for a while, until you had his pretty face in your hands. You'd pulled his face to yours and pressed soft, warm lips to his, kissing him firmly, but gently.

"Why don’t I tell you what I want, Steve, so you don’t tie yourself in knots trying to figure it out?”

The breath of relief he'd huffed out would have made you laugh if your mouth hadn't immediately been taken in the hottest, sweetest tangle of lips and teeth and tongue you'd ever experienced. His arms had come around you to cradle you against his body like you were delicate and precious and in that moment you felt it, certain you were already in over your head with Steve Rogers.

"I'd love that, doll," he'd whispered in return when the kiss finally broke, his breath ragged. "What do you want?"

You'd chuckled darkly at that, your body humming and blood rushing with lust. "I want to take you inside and have my wicked way with you," you'd brushed your fingertips over the nape of his neck and made him tremble, "but I think we should take it slow, take our time. So, I'll take another kiss like the last to keep me warm for now."

“Yes, ma’am.”

The smile that spread across his face right before his lips met yours told you that you'd made the right call. Steve was the sort that moved at a slower pace, needed room to feel. Over the next couple of months, you'd given him that space as you slowly deepened the intimacy between you, learning what he liked, teaching him what you liked. With only a little patience, he’d proven eager to learn and innately adept at the study.

As you’d become more physically familiar, you’d also explored the added emotional dimension to your relationship, the vulnerability that comes when you allow a friend to become something more. Not that you’d had reason to regret that decision yet, Steve having also proven a sweet and attentive boyfriend.

By the time you'd come together, you'd found a number of creative ways to satisfy both of you while still building the anticipation. The wait had ensured that you were physically comfortable with one another before you’d gotten to that last glorious night together.

You’d deliberately chosen a night before he left for a mission to invite him to stay, to make love with you and wake in your bed. You’d been unable to wait any longer, the desperate need too much to hold back, but you'd also wanted to keep the edge of his desire for you well honed. You hadn't considered what the enforced separation after such a night would do to you, too. When he’d broken radio silence to text you during a mission, you’d been both moved and gratified, but you'd also needed him with an ache you'd never known before. You'd been unable to stop yourself from using the opportunity to take the edge off.

You'd also been exasperated, radio silence had been placed on the mission for a reason, but that was professional.

No harm had come of it, but it was still a breach in protocol.

You looked up when Steve knocked on the door as he opened it, poking his head into your office, as had become his habit over the previous months. “Come on in, Cap," you said with a slow, warm smile. "Have a seat."

"Yes, ma'am." His eyes were hot as he settled into the chair on the other side of your desk. The words sent a shiver of lust up your spine and over your scalp when coupled with the sweet appreciative grin that lit up his face. You had to be ever vigilant lest you get lost in his ocean eyes. The man was unfairly pretty, hence the pet name.

The debriefing went quickly as the mission had gone mostly to plan. What few deviations had occurred were in minor variables and were easily documented. Steve didn't have anything to add to what you'd heard from Sam and Natasha, but you believed in being thorough. Once you heard it once more from Steve, you pushed all of it aside without a twinge of guilt. 

Before you moved on entirely, however, you fixed him with a gimlet stare. "I'm surprised I have to remind you of this, Captain, but radio silence was put on this mission for a reason." One eyebrow and the corner of your mouth lifted as he grinned at you.

"That takes care of business." You got to your feet and rounded your desk to cross to the door, flipping the lock as your heart started to race. "Now," you went on in a purr as you circled back around to slide into Steve's lap. Heart singing, you pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss. "Hey, pretty."

Steve was in heaven. He wrapped his arms around you to press you close and reveled in the feel of your body against his. Dimly, in a far-off corner of his mind, he wondered if he should be concerned by his tendency to get lost in you, the ease and speed with which you enthralled him. But you were nuzzling your mouth across his cheeks and mouth, seducing him all over again with sweetness, and he couldn't find it in him to care. "Hey, babydoll," he sighed happily as his eyes fluttered closed.

"So ya missed me, huh?"

Steve smiled at your playful tones but kept his eyes closed as he basked in the feeling of your mouth against his skin, of being adored by you. How could he not miss you when you made him feel this way? His voice a sigh, the sound made you tremble deep inside. "I did."

"I like that." Your voice throbbed with an emotion you weren't ready to name but knew you'd have to deal with soon. Steve seemed to hear it, as his eyes opened to see your face, his eyebrows quirking in question. Your smile twisted wryly as you shrugged a little. "I like being missed."

Steve's pretty face melted into a smile rich with affection as one of his big hands slid up your back, his warm palm between your shoulder blades and pressing you into his chest. His lips as soft as his touch, he kissed you with the same tenderness he'd shown you from the start, the same tenderness that had seduced you before you'd realized it was happening. You didn't know what he'd seen in your face to make him kiss you like this, but you weren't going to argue.

Your breathing ragged and your throat thick with that nameless, dangerous emotion, you broke the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck, brushing your lips over the soft skin under his ear. "I missed you too, sweetie," you whispered, your breath wafting across his ear and making him shiver agreeably. You could feel it, and it made you needy, made your voice turn husky with that need. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about those pictures you sent me."

Steve stretched his neck to give you better access, the sensation of your mouth on his skin a temptation he couldn't resist. Simply being in the same room with you was intoxicating; he’d already been hard as steel by the time you'd slid into his lap. Your touch, your voice, your scent, everything about you set him aflame. "You didn't keep them?"

"I told you; I'm the jealous type." You lifted your head to nip at his lips with a wicked smirk and eyes that burned. "I couldn't risk anyone else seeing them. Only way to be sure was to delete them."

The hand that had been squeezing your hip came up to cup your face when every part of him softened in adoration, appreciation. He wasn't the least surprised to find that you'd acted to protect him, but he was still deeply grateful. "I deleted yours, too." His mouth twisted when your eyebrow raised in mock suspicion. "Didn't want them falling into the wrong hands. Damn near broke my heart to do it, but…"

When he trailed off with a shrug, you tilted your head back and laughed out at the twinkle in his eye behind his look of broken-hearted regret. You combed your fingers through his hair, fisting your hands there and tilting his head back to smile affectionately into his gorgeous face. "I'll send you more, you pretty thing."

When his grin flashed, cheerful and sweet, you couldn't resist his plump, pink lips any longer. You took his mouth with yours, kissing him deeply, with heat. With purpose.

Gasping breaths inward escaped as panting moans as your mouths pressed and tangled together. You shamelessly rubbed your breasts against his chest as your hands began to skim over the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Your tongue curled around his as you encouraged him with your mouth and body to touch you more, kiss you harder.

Steve cradled you in his lap as gently as he could while still pressing you close, holding you tight. He knew his strength, tried to be mindful of it out of concern that he might hurt or scare you. Sometimes he thought he gripped too tightly, his mind so easily muddled by you, but you never complained.

In fact, sometimes you straight up ordered him to stop treating you as though you were as delicate as he knew you to be and touch you already. Sometimes, like today, you showed him your impatience physically, pulling at his clothes and arching into his hands. When you tore your mouth from his to scramble to your feet, he was confused for half a second before you were pulling him up with you.

"Doll," he breathed, his heart running away with him as you backed into your desk and boosted yourself up onto it, "I'm falling hard for you." You wrapped your legs around his hips as you fisted your hands in his shirt to drag him close. "I don't know if you want serious, but I can't help it."

Steve thought he'd just made a colossal mistake when your movements slowed and your eyes lifted to his, your face a study in consternation. His heart started beating again when your face softened into a smile and then a laugh as you lifted your hands from his belt to his face.

"I'm trying to fuck and you're trying to talk about our relationship." You pulled his mouth to yours and kissed him softly, sweetly, utterly charmed. "Steve," you crooned as you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks, "my sweetheart." You huffed out a shaky laugh, the vulnerability of the moment hitting you all at once. Your mouth twisted with wry affection as your eyes searched his worried face. You went on, your voice an aching sigh. "I don't want you to help it. I don't know how to do serious, but I'm starting to think I'd do anything for you."

Steve felt the muscles in the back of his neck relax. On a sigh of relief, he rested his forehead against yours as the hands at your waist slid around your back to hold you close. He had known you wouldn't make him regret telling you the truth about his feelings, but he'd barely hoped that you would reciprocate them. He'd never anticipated that anyone could make him feel the way you did and was gratified to the bone that he could make you feel the same.

Arms wrapped around your back, one hand squeezing your hip, the other cupped around the nape of your neck, Steve kissed you. Slow, and gentle, he coaxed your lips apart like a man with nothing but time. His mouth brushed and clung to yours with a diabolical kind of tenderness as his body pressed more firmly against yours. Eyes bright and warm, he broke the kiss to smile and whisper, mild concern and confusion chasing one another across his face. "I know the feeling."

The relentless honesty that characterized Steve could be its own kind of trouble. He was in so many ways an open book, it made it easy for you to see the struggle he sometimes had with his emotions. On the other hand, you had only to pay attention to know what he was thinking and feeling. Steve, and everything he was, made you feel safe and secure in a way no one ever had before.

"Oh, baby, don't worry," you murmured, linking your wrists behind his neck and nuzzling at his mouth. "I'm as flustered by this as you are. I know you can't believe the things you'll do if I ask it," your voice dropped to a rasp as your thighs tightened around his hips, "because I can't believe it either." You shrugged, and you let him see how he dazzled you in your smile. "I talk a big game, but every day I'm stunned all over again that you like it. That you like me."

"You are so fucking sweet." Steve's voice was rich with wonder as he spoke. His eyes burned as he huffed out a laugh of astonished joy and his head dipped to yours. No longer slow and gentle, he kissed you with an urgent passion that you soaked up and returned with abandon. When his hand slipped from your hip to squeeze your ass and his lips grew hungrier on yours, you chuckled in your throat and let your hands drop back to his belt where you went back to unfastening it.

Steve couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up at the sound of your dark glee and the feel of your hands teasing the erection behind his zipper. He lifted his head just enough to look into your face, the warm affection in his so pretty it made your throat ache. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed over your cheeks, but your hands went back to work on getting into his pants. He started chuckling, but that quickly turned into a low moan when your hands slipped under the waistband of his underwear to push them down. "I don’t just like you, doll."

“Good.” You replied with a nip at his lower lip as you closed your hand around an impressive erection. “Because I’m just crazy about you.”

Your smile as you caressed him was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Starting bright and happy, Steve was awestruck by the way your whole face seemed to shine with joy. In the next moment, your smile was melting into a look so hungry his cock hardened even more and his hips gave an involuntary thrust into your hands.

The sensation had you grinning recklessly as you twisted your hand around his length and made him groan. You lifted one hand to cup the nape of his neck to pull him forward for a kiss as his breathing sped in excitement. "Steven, I wore a skirt for a reason," you purred against his mouth and felt powerful as a goddess when his hands immediately left your hips to fumble at the long peasant skirt you'd worn. The feeling of his hips stuttering slightly as those hands closed around your thighs made you feel irresistibly sexy as well.

Being with Steve made you feel adored.

His mouth drank from yours with ever more urgency, even as he gripped your thighs more tightly and spread your legs to pull you closer. You encouraged him with murmurs of approval and gentle, teasing touches designed to inflame. His long fingers squeezed the flesh of your ass and legs as his body bent to yours, over yours. His thumbs caressing the insides of your thighs made you feel like you were going to fly apart and had your arm sliding around his neck to bring your body flush with his.

Steve tore his mouth from yours to gasp for breath. He buried his face in the crook where your shoulder met your neck and panted in excitement, in pleasure, the tremble of his lips against your skin sending shivers through you. "Babydoll," he whispered, the taste of you going to his head and muddling his mind, "I can't stop thinking about being inside you."

His thumbs had reached the apex of your legs and were brushing lightly over the soft skin he'd found there. His breathing was as ragged as yours, shuddering gasps of reaction mingled with moaning sighs of pleasure as the two of you touched one another. "Is this okay?" he asked gently, lifting his head to look into your face as one of his long, beautiful fingers slipped between your folds to tease at your entrance, to feel your wetness.

"God, yes," you moaned and made him smile. You were dazzled by the feel of him between your thighs, the sight of him flushed with his excitement and shuddering with need in your hands. When his thumb pressed you open and he circled your clit with the pad of his finger, your hips jerked forward in response, the sweet sensation of him gently caressing you so intimately overwhelming in its intensity.

Steve's hand slid down and he pressed into you with a soft groan of reverence, of hunger. You tilted your hips to allow him easier access, your head falling backward on your neck as you gasped with pleasure at the rasping sensation of one long, finger stretching you open. Your thighs tightened around his hips and your hand around his cock as you shuddered out a moan that made him crazy.

His mouth moved over your neck in desperate open-mouthed kisses as he reveled in the feeling of your wetness covering his hand. He loved feeling the proof of your desire for him. He loved that he'd brought you to this point, clutching at his shoulders and sobbing his name. He loved that you could so easily bring him to this point, panting with need and ready to beg. When your hand smoothed over his erection with a twisting motion and your lips at his ear whispered, "Play later, pretty. Inside me now," he could have promised you the moon.

He ever so slowly withdrew his hand from where he'd been pumping his finger slowly, gently in and out of your soaking pussy, dragging his fingertips over your clit as he went. The sensation was exquisite, prompting another gasping moan from you and making you fumble as you let go of his cock to bunch your skirt in your fist. You pulled it up and out of the way so you could see where you connected, wanted to watch him slide inside you. You wanted to imprint forever on your memory the image of Steve Rogers making love to you.

Tight t-shirt rucked up over a perfect stomach, belt and pants undone and pushed down below his ass with his underwear to reveal him flushed and shiny wet with anticipation. His hands, big and beautiful, gently held your thighs apart as his fingers pressed with just enough force into your muscles. The sight, along with that of his cock, hard as steel and pressing slowly into you, had your body clenching in need and your mouth running away with you as you rasped, "So pretty."

Steve flushed with the praise. As he eased into you, he marveled that his memory hadn't done you justice. He'd thought he remembered how good you felt wrapped around his cock, thought he'd remembered the ecstasy of the moment when he rested buried to the hilt, but he hadn't even been close. Once there, his hands left your thighs where they were wrapped around his hips. Skimming up over your waist, he took you gently in his arms, one palm on your lower back, one between your shoulder blades. Gasping for breath and grasping for control, he rested his forehead against yours and shuddered with restrained greed.

You wrapped your arms around the barrel of his chest and nuzzled under the collar of his t-shirt to brush your mouth across his perfect collarbones. Murmuring words intended to incite, you breathed adoration into his skin. "Sweet pretty Steve." You tilted your head back to look into his face. "You feel so good."  

The sight of your face, warm and soft with passion as you almost whimpered the words took Steve's breath away. Unable to help himself, his head dipped to kiss you as his arms tightened, his hands grasping you close as he started to tentatively thrust into you. You kissed him back, your hands avid as they clutched at his back and hips to encourage him to move faster, thrust harder.

You loved that Steve was as close to out of control as you'd ever seen him, loved that he was lost in you enough to move instinctively. He was still following your lead, but he wasn't thinking anymore, was letting his body rule. His hand slid down to close around your thigh to hike it higher, using the leverage to pull you onto him more forcefully. A happy squeal muffled by his mouth expressed your approval, as did the arms you wrapped around his neck to pull yourself more tightly against him.

Though Steve would have at least tried to go slow, you weren’t having it. You’d twined around him like a vine and were using your grip to rock your hips to his in abandon. The uncomplicated affection on your lips and the desperate need in your sighs of pleasure came together on his tongue to seep into his mind and send him reeling. Unable to stop himself, he gripped your thighs and ass to tilt you to the perfect angle for his relentlessly pounding hips and gave in. Groaning in his throat, he let your genuine passion wipe his mind clean of everything but you.

Steve's fingers were digging into your flesh with just enough pressure to feel delicious. His mouth was avid on yours and so sweet you had to tear yourself away to drag in a breath. You released that breath on a shuddering moan when he immediately buried his face in your throat to taste the skin over your pulse under your jaw. Your hands clenched in his hair and you rocked your hips harder and faster into his, chasing your climax. Steve was a perfect fit; you were fully enthralled with the sensation of his cock gliding into you, rasping out.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, each more frantic than the last, as the rhythmic slam of his hips against yours built you swiftly and steadily to peak. Hearing that you were nearing your climax, Steve lifted his head from where it was buried in your cleavage and pressing open mouthed kisses to the curves of your breasts. He loved to watch your expression while you came, loved to see you taken over by rapture, especially of his making. When you shuddered out, "Fuck me, baby," he knew you were close.

Steve's grin flashed and he started to thrust harder and faster into you, shaking your desk enough to knock a few things to the floor. The sound of soft thumps as a stapler fell to the carpet and pens scattered made you laugh. The thought that it was Steve Rogers you were fucking on your desk in the middle of the day met the joy of the moment and pushed you happily to the edge where need met satisfaction.

Pretty, sweet, reckless Steve with his bashful smiles and sad soldier’s eyes was building you to peak with ever more force and speed, about to send you tipping over that edge with flashing hips and a whimpering moan. You tilted your head forward on your neck to look into Steve's smiling, blushing face, his flashing eyes. With a sighed, "Pretty," you smiled as you let go and fell into rapture.

At the same time you spoke, Steve could feel the beginning of your orgasm fluttering and squeezing around him. His hands tightened around your thigh, your ass as he shook with pleasure at the sensation. The feel of you in his arms, clutching at him in ecstasy pushed him to the edge of his control. The sight of your eyes, glowing with pleasure both given and received, sent him tumbling over.

The beautiful groan Steve released as his head dropped to your shoulder made you tighten around him in every way. You gave in happily to the overwhelming urge to hold him close as he came inside you with stuttering hips and shaking limbs. Twining around him, you basked in the scent, the taste, the feel of him as you dragged him into the same spell that held you.

Everything about you softened like wax when he turned his face into your neck and nuzzled in with a sigh of contentment. He was holding you against him with that astonishing tenderness he possessed, cradling you in his arms like you were something infinitely delicate, infinitely precious. The sensation never failed to turn you to mush.

You combed your fingers through his hair and rubbed your cheek against his temple, holding him with the same tenderness he showed you, something he found utterly beguiling. He brushed his mouth over the soft skin of your throat and murmured in appreciation, "How do you do this to me?"

You couldn't help but love how that question had changed over time. At first, he had asked with concern vying with bafflement, but he'd come to ask with warmth, humor, affection. The answer had changed, too, from curiosity to pleasure to something more, something neither of you knew how to name. Not yet.

"I ask nicely," you replied with a smirk.

Steve burst out laughing and lifted his head to grin at you. You had a look on your face of such infinite tenderness, such warm wonder that his heart jumped and jumped in response to an emotion he wasn't sure how to describe, or if he was ready yet to do so. He pushed it aside, gloriously and willingly lost in you. "That would do it," he admitted with his heart in his eyes.

"In that case," you leaned forward to kiss first one side of his mouth, "would you like to come over for dinner," then the other, "stay the night?" Your eyelids dipped with a hint of shyness and made Steve's romantic heart yearn, inspired that still nameless emotion. "I really liked waking up next to you."

His eyes lit up in a way you'd never seen before; his smile was bright and joyous and made you want to promise him the world. Warm and affectionate, his expression held everything you could want as he replied, his voice low and full of fun. "Yes, ma'am."

Permanent taglist:

@hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @diinofayce @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker​ @walkingtravesty97​ @fashionworld12​ @readermia​ @patzammit​ @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​

[ars0nistalex]

The Disenchanted Story of Olly Wang

In the Manhwa Lookism by Park Taejoon, the character Olly Wang (Wang Ochun) died at the end of the Hostel arc. He committed suicide after discovering the differences between the intense emotions he felt during the tragic events of his life. He most likely had several mental illnesses as he frequently severely overdosed and obsessed over Eli Jang (Jang Hyun) to the point where he lived just to find him again. Despite being so mentally and physically numb from his mental and physical illnesses, he still paid quota to Jong Gun every month to protect Hostel B from the 4 Major Crews. He lived a life of despair, and despite all of his bad choices, most things that he did were for selfless reasons.

You could say that his life was rather Disenchanted.

“Disenchanted” is also the name of a song from the early 2000s rock band My Chemical Romance. They always made sensational music and “Disenchanted” has got to be one of my favorite songs. One thing that makes me love it so much is that some of the lyrics remind me so much of Olly and everything that he went through in his life. So I’m gonna do a little analysis/ramble about the song and how some of the lyrics remind me so much of one of my favorite characters in Lookism, who is most definitely the most underrated one!!

((btw here is the link to the full lyrics of “Disenchanted” https://www.google.com/amp/s/genius.com/amp/My-chemical-romance-disenchanted-lyrics

and here’s the spotify link to the song: https://open.spotify.com/track/6T7MAQCekVb3UnCykjX3BP?si=_rUzQ9lPQIqdsvnpbPThhQ ))

So this is the first verse of the song and there are a few lyrics here that stand out to me a lot. ((btw i’m gonna put all the lyrics in italics so they stand out from the rest of the text))

“Well, I was there on the day

They sold the cause for the queen

And when the lights all went out

We watched our lives on the screen

I hate the ending myself

But it started with an alright scene”

So the first thing that really stood out to me was when it said “We watched our lives on the screen.” Guys. Remember that movie that Olly was watching about family, the one he got from Sally? The one he watched on the screen on the roof of his building and on his phone while he was with Gun? The film probably brought back a lot of memories of the past with Hostel B, as if he was watching his life.

Another few lines that reminded me of Olly were, “I hate the ending myself / But it started with an alright scene.” At the end of Olly’s story, he ended his own life by jumping from the roof of the building the old Hostel resided in. His life started out okay, when he was friends with Heather and when he first met Eli, but things went very downhill from there and he was never really happy for the rest of his life.

“It was the roar of the crowd

That gave me heartache to sing

It was a lie when they smiled

And said, ‘You won’t feel a thing.’

And as we ran from the cops

We laughed so hard it would sting”

So in these lines, the first one that stuck out to me was “It was a lie when they smiled / And said, ‘You won’t feel a thing.’” I’m sure you guys can figure out why. With Olly’s illness, he was told that he would never feel pain. However, despite severely overdosing on pills that were prescribed for this illness, the pain he ended up feeling in the end was emotional rather than physical. He was so numb physically that he became emotionally numb, and he never felt fear before because he didn’t fear getting hurt. When Eli was beating him after the incident with Heather, Olly swore he was fleeing fear for the first time in his life. However, he realized in the end that the emotion he felt was guilt over something that wasn’t even entirely his fault. And he searched for years to find Eli so he could feel something again, feel the things that he thought was fear. However, it was guilt all along. Despite having an illness that made it impossible for him to feel physical pain, the agonizing sensation of guilt was what killed him in the end.

The other group of lines that reminded me of Olly was when it said: “And as we ran from the cops / We laughed so hard it would sting.” This isn’t as deep as the other one, but since Hostel is a crime organization and Olly used to commit crimes alongside Eli in the past, it reminded me of him because he seemed happy when he was doing those kinds of things.

“If I’m so wrong

How can you listen all night long?

Now will it matter after I’m gone

Because you never learned a goddamn thing”

In the pre-chorus, the lines that remind me of Olly is when it said, “Now will it matter after I’m gone / Becuase you never learned a goddamn thing.” I thought this was really powerful because Olly spent almost three years of his life paying Gun a $100,000 dollar quota every month just so Sally (Serim) and Warren (i don’t know what his korean name is i’m sorry) wouldn’t get dragged into the 4 Major Crews and wouldn’t get hurt. Despite the fact that they mistreated him so much, he still did this for them, which was basically saving their lives. And even after he died, they still had no idea about what he had done for them; they never learned.

“You’re just a sad song with nothing to say

About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay

And if you think that I’m wrong

This never meant nothing to you”

The chorus doesn’t relate much to Olly, but the line “This never meant nothing to you” is similar to what I said about the pre-chorus. Sally and Warren knew nothing about what Olly did to protect them despite the fact that they mistreated him so much in the past.

Since the second verse doesn’t remind me much of him and the pre-chorus and chorus are the same, I’m gonna skip to the post-chorus, which is the last verse I’ll talk about.

“So go, go away

Just go, run away

But where did you run to?

And where did you hide?

Go find another way, price you pay”

I think this whole verse reminds me of him so much. Eli ran away with his baby after the incident with Heather’s death. He asked his family, “How about we play hide and seek?” and disappeared for years. Olly was searching for Eli for years, wondering where he went to hide, while Eli was finding another path for himself, trying to escape the crews and abandoning his family. He did it so he wouldn’t hurt them anymore, but they were left by themselves without someone that they loved. And the price paid when he returned was the loss of Olly’s precious life.

I’m really proud of this one so i’m gonna tag some mutuals x3 @prompt-disaster @jaeyeolla and @biigdeal , let me know if you have any thoughts on it ✨✨

[voidcat]

Intrusion

– 3: level 5 of friendship (wc: 1.8k)

prev ; next ; m.list

a/n: a filler-ish type of character. according to my ao3 a/n i kinda felt out of this chapter by the time i sat down to write so yea,,, + the text copy pasted from ao3 again so bolds and italics may be gone.

>[Hey I’ll go to the café a little earlier and sit around for a while. I’ll send you the address and you can meet me there.]

>[btw they don’t only serve pastry so if u r hungry after practice, you can eat there.]

>[k bye see ya]

You were up hours before you received a message from Iwaizumi. A simple “Good Morning.” blinking at you from the corner of your eye. Sending a short reply, you went back to your book. The house completely silent, save for your creaking footsteps; your parents have already left, typical as always.

It was odd for you to be up before your alarm. You brush the possibilities off, trying not think too much about it. The air feels nice and the chirping of birds isn’t exactly distracting, I might as well do some reading. That is how you decided to begin your day, pushing all your thoughts aside and entering a brand new world.

The heavy silence starting to weight on you after a while, you change your clothes, send these texts to Iwaizumi and head out.

Finding a good spot to sit by the window side, in case Iwaizumi cannot find the place, you order a drink as you pick your book up where you left off. You must’ve dozed off because you don’t realize him until he sits down.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hi. Glad you could make it.” It’s weird to see him without the school uniform now. The tshirt looks like he changed into it after practice. The jacket hanging from his seat and the bag by his side, both carrying the trademark colors for Aoba Johsai sports clubs indicating your assumption further. His face seems redder than usual, he must’ve left a short while ago.

You stare at one another for a moment. “So, how was practice?”

“As usual. We tried switching positions and had some 2-against-2 matches a little.”

“Ah, that… sounds good? I think. No, maybe a bit intense too? I’m not sure.” Shaking your head as you speak, you can hear him chuckle, probably at you.

“How about your morning?”

“As usual.”

“So you do wake up before noon on weekends, huh.” You can’t help but smile at that.

“Except for that part, then.” You look up to find him smiling at you warmly. This only makes your smile bigger.

One of the staff approaches your table and drops a single menu between the two of you. When will cafes stop assuming two people of the opposite sex as a couple and bring only one menu?..

Iwaizumi makes a gesture, signaling you to take a look and choose first.

“You go ahead, I have some inside information on their products.” You say with a smile as if you really are sharing a top secret. What’s up with the never ending smiles today? It couldn’t possibly be because of meeting with him, right? No way. And yet, the smiles appear before your face all natural, feeling familiar; so you let it keep happening. Change once in a while never killed anybody.

Eyes wandering around, examining each furniture, each plant, the expressions people wear; trying to distinct the source of each smell, guessing what it is, you wait for Iwaizumi to choose. The air is calm, no one is too loud and you can hear relaxing songs playing through the speakers. I hope the harmony of this place isn’t disturbed during the rush hours, you can’t help but think.

Getting tired of the pastel ambiance after a while, you divert your gaze back to Iwaizumi. Only to see a frustrated face staring at the menu he’s holding. He almost looks like it insulted him or better yet, attacked him. Your hand reaches to it before you can realize. You lower the menu a little.

“Need help?” He almost looks embarrassed to nod does it any way.

“Yeah, I’m torn between Americano and filter coffee… But what exactly is the difference between the two?” The excitement inside you hard to conceal, your hands jump into the air, digits spread wide.

“Oh, oh! I know this!” The look Iwaizumi gives you makes you stop. He seems… at ease. He has one of these small smiles you’ve witnessed before. There’s also a hint of something in his eyes, a gleam is there sure and a little bit of playfulness, but also something else you can’t put your finger on. Whatever it is, it suits him and you’d like to see him like this more often. You shake your head at your last thought.

“No, don’t give me that look. I only know about types of coffee because one of my friends is a caffeine addict.” And so you start to talk about different types of coffee, milk and espresso ratios, all in detail.

Five minutes into speedtalking about coffee and you give up at the look of defeat you are met with. “Just order Americano, you seem the type any way.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” You ignore the question.

A minute of waiting and awkward stare passes, then another minute of ordering is added to the pile. Iwaizumi, following your advice and ordering Americano, you asking for chai latte and the ‘cake of the day’. You two fall back into silence.

No conversation starters coming into mind, your eyes keep wandering around. Stealing glances at him once in a while, only for the both of you to make eye contact and immediately diverting your gazes, the unsettling silence starts to take its toll.

“I… I need to use the restroom.” You dash out before he can say anything, hoping the door you saw earlier does lead to the restroom. Splashing water to your face to calm your nerves, why would my nerves even be not calm in the first place??, you slowly head out and pray to whatever force out there that your orders have arrived.

You’re either lucky or you’ve used up your daily dose of luck because your prayers seem to be answered. The steam coming from your beverages is numbing and the cake looks heavenly to you. Light cream between the layers and on top, surrounded with fresh fruits and some jam spilled over the plate to make a twirling shape for a good presentation…

There are two sets of cutlery.

Because bringing a single menu was not enough and they just had to bring two sets of cutlery, still assuming you’re a couple. Not to worry, it’s not worth losing your cool over. You take a deep breath and sit as you breathe down, a not so genuine smile plastered on your face.

“So, how is the coffee?”

“Good. I suppose you were right about ‘my type’” he does air quotes as he speaks. Another smile breaks free of your mask.

“If it’s any consolation, I usually prefer coffee without sweeteners, so it is a little my type too.” A knowing nod at that.

“And the cake?..”

“Well, it looks good. You can try if you want, they did bring another fork anyway.” He doesn’t too eager at that. Cutting a part of the cake and putting it to one side of the plate, you shrug and start eating.

An easy flow of conversation comes after.

It starts with something that catches your eye in the street, starting to look through the window and creating fun little scenarios, the air around you gets warmer.

Excitingly pointing at a cat passing by, Iwaizumi learns how fond of cats you are, even so that you have one at home.

Inspecting the trees nearby and trying to guess what species, you find out he has an eye for it. He knows most of the trees and flowers out there.

He asks you your favorite genre to play on piano and in return you ask him his preferred sports drink. It goes like this. Beverages already drunk, cake long eaten, you two get lost in small things and what-nots.

The sun at the top, shining through and drowning the world under its golden light, everything seems to be at peace. Not a single customer around talking too loud, or maybe they do but you’re too out of it to notice… The temperature just right, your thoughts at bay, all harmless. Almost as if it’s a regular weekend day-out, the way it feels so familiar.

Feeling relaxed and loosened up, ready to doze off to sleep at any given moment, you slowly find yourself getting lost in pale green eyes, and vice versa.

Whatever unseen force that was holding the entire place, including you, in a calm trance, falls apart at the sudden sound of an unwelcome beep.

Both of you reaching out to your phones, you see a notification alert

Staring at your screen for a while, a sincere smile blooms on your face, giddy with excitement and happy, you feel unstoppable at that very moment.

“Good news I hope. Care to share?” Iwaizumi’s words reach your ears a few seconds too late. Still holding your phone with both hands grinning like an idiot now, you shake your head a little.

“You need to reach level 5 of friendship with me to access this story, sorry.” You can see him laughing lightly at the back of his hand.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just… I expected at least a level 10.” It’s your turn to laugh now, and so it seems.

“You’ve listened to me playing the piano. That gives you a 5 level headstart already.”

“You’re really that secretive about that?” All that joy from a moment ago has died down and replaced with confusion. You avoid his eyes and focus on a spot near him again, just like the first time.

“Secretive is not the best choice of words. More like… insecure? I guess, I’m not sure.”

“Well, that’s just dumb.”

“I- What? Excuse me?!”

“I’ve said what I said. You already play well and only a fool wouldn’t notice the way you give your all as you play. There is no logical reason for you to be insecure about that.”

“Yes but- you see…” Words die out at your throat, hand hanging in the air.

Another thing you learn about Iwaizumi Hajime right then and there. He is honest and as harsh as truth can be.

You wonder if he is like that all the time, if he is as open when it comes to himself. Or does he hide behind a façade like the rest of the world.

Noticing how tense you are getting, Iwaizumi ends your misery at last, asking about the book you were reading and you two fall back into another quiet chatter of everything and nothing until you  call it a day.

[dayseternal-blog]

Hi days! Since im currently under quarantine, I've been meaning to write my own Naruhina fanfic and i think this is the perfect opportunity to start! im just wondering if you have any tips with writing and also on using AO3 since I'm pretty new to the site :) Thank you so much and I hope ur doing well!

AHHHH HAVE FUN!!!!

I have so many tips???  For planning, editing, posting, and general thoughts.  I’m sorry, it got out of hand 🙈  Also, everything below the cut are just my own opinions (even if they’re phrased like laws lol).  Other writers will have differing opinions.

Planning Tips 🗒:

1. First to make absolutely clear, you don’t have to plan.  You can write whatever you want because it’s your story.

2. But it’s useful to have a detailed summary or general outline.

3. And it’s useful to choose your verb tense & POV before you start.

4. It’s easier for most people to write from just one perspective (limited 3rd Person).  An example of this would be “Nightdreams,” for which I only wrote Naruto’s thoughts.  Limited 3rd is useful to build angst because everyone can only guess at what the other character is thinking!

5. But if you want both POVs shown, that’s fun, too!!  I’ve done that in diff. ways.  “Undercover” and “Catskin” switches throughout.  “White Lilies” has half/half of the chapter.  “Inspo” switches each chapter.  Whatever you choose, do it deliberately for the amount of information you want to share with the reader!

6. Keep your verb tense consistent!  It’s easier to write in present tense, even though we were taught in school to write stories in past tense.  If your character is having a flashback, you can easily make that distinction between present and past by switching to past tense.

Editing Tips ✅:

1. Each new paragraph belongs to only 1 character’s thoughts, words, and actions.

2. Vary sentence length!  Short sentences and fragments are wonderful to indulge in.

3. Try to keep each paragraph short (no more than about 4 lines).  A bilingual reader told me it’s easier to process.

4. Try to open a chapter with a description of the environment (sounds, space, or feelings) rather than talking or conversation so that you can immerse the reader in the story right away.

5. If you want a beta, set clear parameters for what you want the beta to look for.  Be specific.  Examples: you want the beta to check your spelling and punctuation, you want the beta to check for clarity in a certain section, you want the beta to be like a soundboard for you to bounce ideas off of, you want the beta to check for sensitivity.  Btw, if you don’t want a beta, that’s absolutely fine.

6. If your story is set in a Japanese-influenced world, please don’t italicize Japanese words.  That just draws attention to a word that doesn’t need attention.  Italics should be used for emphasis, thoughts, maybe words in a letter or newspaper the character is reading.

7. If the characters all have Japanese names, like in Naruto, please find appropriate names for any OCs you make.  This is arguable for an alternate universe.

Posting to AO3 Tips 👊🏼:

1. Write your story on a Google Doc, then when you’re ready, copy&paste into AO3′s RICH TEXT (Not HTML) BOX. 

It’s always defaulted to HTML.  So make sure you click that Rich Text button before you paste the story in, otherwise your formatting’s gonna get all funky.

2. Before you Post, read through your story!  AO3 sometimes doesn’t “return” your paragraphs properly, so just make sure your spacing is all good.

3. Also check your words that are italicized.  AO3 sometimes adds extra spaces between italicized and normal words.

4. Look at similar stories to yours to see how they tagged ships, triggers, and genres.  The wall of tags is very important!  

5. Keep your story summary simple.  If your story follows a popular trope, you might want to highlight that in the summary.

Miscellaneous Tips 🌻:

1. Have no shame.

2. If you learn by following examples (like I do), study your favorite stories and take mental notes on what makes that story so good to you.  Is it the formatting?  Is it the subject?  Is it the characterization?  What did the writer do?  Turn an analytical eye on those stories.

For example, while I was writing Nightdreams, I studied the formatting (transitions, verb tense, point of view, etc.) in @katarinahime‘s “Serenity Prayer” and the use of description in @missa-chua‘s “Unless the World Were to End.”  I reread them several times.  I tried to emulate their styles in my own writing.

3. For the love of ramen, please don’t make ramen seem like some foreign food that Hinata has never tried before.  Please.

4. Follow @ao3commentoftheday to get a whole writing community’s tips!!  The moderator responds everyday to asks on a wide range of writing concerns.

5. YOU CAN FORGET EVERYTHING HERE IF YOU LIKE AND JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.  It’s your story!

You are your own #1 Reader.  Write what you want to read because literally no one’s going to read it as often as you do!  This is allllll about what YOU want!

If you have any questions about something I didn’t cover or you’d like me to expand on a tip, let me know :)  Thank you for asking!  And I am so excited!

I hope you love your fanfic!!!!!

[lesbeet]

not to be a nerd but i accidentally just wrote a whole impromptu essay about editing ndjsdksksk im throwing it under a cut bc it's fucking inane and really long but honestly... i just want other people to become as passionate about editing as i am lmaooooo

i also recommend 2 books in the post so if anything at least check those out!

quality books about editing... *chef's kiss* a lot of the basic ones (including blog posts online n such) are geared towards beginners and end up repeating the same info/advice, much of it either oversimplified or misrepresented tbh. but i read one yesterday and i'm reading another one right now that really convey this passion for editing + consideration for it as its own sort of art and i just!!

it's such a weird thing to be passionate about lmao but i AM and i've spent a lot of time the past year or so consciously honing my craft (ik i mention this like 4 times a week i'm just really proud of how much i've learned and improved) and kind of like. solidifying my instincts into conscious choices i guess?

and these GOOD editing books have both a) taught me new information and/or presented familiar information through a new perspective that helped me understand something differently or in more depth, and b) validated or even just put into words certain preferences or techniques that i've developed on my own, that i don't normally see on those more basic lists i mentioned

btw the book i finished yesterday is self-editing for fiction writers: how to edit yourself into print by renni brown and dave king, and the one i'm reading currently is the artful edit: on the practice of editing yourself by susan bell.

the former was pretty sharp and straightforward. the authors demonstrated some of their points directly in the text, which was usually funny enough that i would show certain quotes to my sister without context

("Just think about how much power a single obscenity can have if it’s the only one in the whole fucking book." <- (it was)

"Frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. So you should never resort to them unless they are the only practical choice, as with the kind of self-conscious internal dialogue shown above or an occasional emphasis."

or, my favorite: "There are a few stylistic devices that are so “tacky” they should be used very sparingly, if at all. First on the list is emphasis quotes, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. The only time you need to use them is to show you are referring to the word itself, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. Read it again; it all makes sense.")

and like i said, i also learned some new ideas or techniques (or they articulated vague ideas i already had but struggled to put into practice), AND they mentioned some suggestions that ive literally never seen anyone else bring up (not to say no one has! just that ive never seen it, and ive seen a lot in terms of writing tips, advice, best practices, etc) that ive already sort of established in my own writing

for example they went into pretty fine detail about dialogue mechanics, more than i usually see, and in talking about the pacing and proportion of "beats" and dialogue in a given scene, they explicitly suggested that, if a character speaks more than a sentence or two and you plan on giving them some sort of dialogue tag or an action to perform as a beat, the tag or action should be placed at one of the earliest (if not the first) natural pauses in the dialogue, so as not to distance the character too far from the dialogue -- bc otherwise the reader ends up getting all of the dialogue information first, and then has to go back and retroactively insert the character, or what they're doing, or the way they look/sound while they're giving their little speech

and like this was something ive figured out on my own, mostly bc it jarred me out of something i was reading enough times (probably in fic tbh) that i started noticing it, and realized that it's something i do naturally, kind of to anchor the character to the dialogue mechanic to make sure it makes sense with the actual dialogue

so like. ok here's an example i just randomly pulled from the song of achilles (it was available on scribd so i just looked for a spot that worked to illustrate my point djsmsks)

the actual quote is written effectively, but here's a less effective version first:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him. He’s done nothing to me," Achilles answered coolly.

see and even with such a short snippet it's so much smoother and more vivid just by moving the dialogue tag, not adding or cutting a word:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him.” Achilles answered coolly. “He’s done nothing to me.”

the rhythm of it is better, and the beat that the dialogue tag creates functions as a natural dramatic pause before achilles delivers an incredibly poignant line, both within the immediate context of the scene and because we as the readers can recognize it as foreshadowing. plus, it flows smoothly because that beat was inserted where the dialogue already contained a natural pause, just bc that's how people speak. if you read both versions aloud, they both make sense, but the second version (the original used in the novel) accounts for the rhythm of dialogue, the way people tend to process information as they read, AND the greater context of the story, and as a result packs significantly more purpose, information, and effect into the same exact set of words

and THAT, folks, is the kind of editing minutia i can literally sit and hyperfocus on for hours without noticing. anyway it's a good book lmao

the one i'm reading now is a lot more about the cognitive process/es of editing, so there's less concrete and specific advice (so far, anyway) and more discussion about different mental approaches to editing, as well as tips and tools for making a firm distinction between your writer brain and your editor brain, which is something i struggle with

but there have been so many good quotes that ive highlighted! a lot of just like. reminders and things to think about, and also just lovely articulations of things id thought of or come to understand in much more vague ways.

scribd won't let me copy/paste this one bc it's a document copy and not an actual ebook, but this passage is talking about how the simple act of showing a piece of writing to someone else for the very first time can spark a sudden shift in perspective on the work, bc you'll (or at least i) frantically try to re-read it through their eyes and end up noticing a bunch of new errors -

or she talked about the perils of constant re-reading in the middle of writing a draft, which is something i struggle with a LOT, both bc i'm a perfectionist and bc i prefer editing to writing so i sit and edit when i'm procrastinating doing the actual hard work of writing lmao

it's just this side of fake deep tbh but i so rarely see editing discussed like this--as a mixture of art and science, a collaboration between instinct and technique, that really requires "both sides of the brain" to be done well.

and because of the way my own brain works, activities that require such a balanced concentration of creativity and logic really appeal to me. even though ive seen a lot of people (even professional writers) who frame it as the creative art of writing vs the logical discipline of editing. but i think that's such a misleading way of thinking about it, because writing and editing both require creativity and logic -- just different kinds! (not to mention that the line between writing and editing, while mostly clear, can get a little blurry from up close)

but like...all stories have an inner logic to them, even if the writer hasn't explicitly or consciously planned it, and even if the logic is faulty in places in the first couple of drafts. when you're sitting and daydreaming about your story, especially if you're trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between two points or scenes (or, how to write a sequence of events that presents as a logical, inevitable progression of cause and effect), the voice in your head that evaluates an idea and decides to 1) go with it, 2) scrap it, 3) tweak it until it works, or 4) hold onto it in case you want it later? that's your logic! if an idea feels wrong, or like it just doesn't work, it's probably because some part of you is detecting a conflict between some part of the idea and the overall logic of your story. every decision you make as you write is formed by and checked against your own experiential logic, and also by the internal logic of your story, which is far less developed (or at least, one would hope), and therefore more prone to the occasional laspe

but while ive seen a number of articles that discuss the logic of writing, i don't see people gushing as much about the art of editing and it's such a shame

the inner editor is so often characterized as the responsible parent to the writer's carefree child, or a relentless critic of the writer's unselfconscious, unpolished drivel

and it's like... maybe you just hate thinking critically about your work! maybe you view it that way because you're imposing external standards too fiercely onto your writing, and it's sucked the joy out of shaping and sculpting your words until they sing. maybe you prefer to conceive of your writing as divine communication, the process of which must remain unencumbered by lessons learned through experience or the vulnerability of self-reflection, until the buzzkill inner editor shows up with all those "rules" and "conventions" that only matter if you're trying to get published

and like obviously the market doesn't dictate which conventions are worth following, but the majority of widely-agreed-upon writing standards, especially those aimed at beginners, (and most especially those regarding style, as opposed to story structure) have to do with the effectiveness and efficiency of prose, and, in addition to often serving as a shorthand for distinguishing an amateur from a pro, overall help to increase poignancy and clarity, which is crucial no matter the genre or type of writing. and even if you personally believe otherwise, it's better to understand the conventions so you can break them with real purpose.

so editing shouldn't be about trying to shove your pristine artistic masterpiece into a conventional mold, it should be about using the creative instincts of your ear and your logic and experience-based understanding of writing as a craft to hone your words until you've told your story as effectively as possible

thank u for coming to my ted talk ✌️

[notwhelmedyet]

Bookbinding Adventure #1 - Disaster Gladiators (pt 2)

(Continuing from pt 1) So I’ve decided I’m going to learn to bind books so I can bind my own fanfiction. I’m starting with Disaster Gladiators, because it is short & also awesome. 

Bookbinding Step Seven: Book Design/Typesetting

I’d typeset a book before, back in High School. I may have already told this story, but in high school I printed out all the novellas I’d written and gave them away as graduation presents. I wish to you all the confidence of a 18-year old who is certain they won’t regret giving 7+ people copies of their obviously flawless high school novellas.

Anyway, I’d done this before, but in InDesign. InDesign has several flaws, compared to Scribus:

It doesn’t work on Linux

I only have Linux

You have to pay for it

But Scribus also has several flaws:

There is no way to import text with italics. You must manually italicize anything in the document

Oh god it’s clunky

For a few days I thought there was a way to import text with italics and I very excitedly prepped a document & then discovered that no. No you can’t do that.

So we started over from a HTML version, stripped out all the HTML formatting except the <em>tags for italic formatting</em> and scrolled through the document and manually italicized everything. 😭

But then it was time for the fun part - picking fonts & styling the chapter headers and scene breaks. I love the end product. Everything got made into a paragraph or character style, so I’ll be able to repurpose the document for new manuscripts :>

If you try this remember to print a test page at this point. I’d originally tried 10 pt for my body text but Lora (my font of choice) looked too big in 10 pt.

Once the fun part is over it’s time to......fix the justification. This, btw, sucks. When a program justifies text, sometimes it struggles and there’ll be a lot of white space. So you go through every paragraph and if it looks bad, you fiddle with the settings to see if you can fix it. Generally I tried:

Adjusting the glyph sizes (I actually let the program use anything from 97-103% for the whole document, which helped a lot)

Adding hyphenation

Then removing hyphenation when Scribus inevitably split someone’s name or another proper noun

Reducing the character spacing by 1% (this is dodgy and I decided I don’t like it)

Allowing the program to reduce the size of spaces to 80% of normal (often fixed things)

Trying hyphenation again

And, if all else fails, changing the wording until the paragraph looks good

And that gets us to today (july 4th)!

[wisebrokenwallflower]

bangtan fic rec

I can be kind of particular when it comes to what I’ll read and I hold a special appreciation for well-written fics with good plot and dynamic characters. I’ve started to accumulate a fair number of fics in my bookmarks, so I think it’s time I start sharing some gems with whoever cares. I highly recommend all of these since I think they are all beautiful in their own unique ways, but I will list the ships. I know certain things can be triggering to some people, so please read the fic tags in case.

the italics are my thoughts, the normal text is the official summary, bolded fics are the ones that had significant impacts on me and or I feel discuss something really important

(this may or may not kind of be an open love letter to all the authors on here lol)

same damn hunger by marienadine [Yoonseok]

When it comes to fucking around with his best friend, Yoongi follows two rules:

1. They must be inebriated.

2. They must not kiss.

okay this fic is heartbreaking? it’s really smutty, but it’s also super poetic and angsty. it’s just really good, I’ve read it a ton of times : ))

Let’s Not Hurt Anymore by exfatamorgana [Namjin]

They don’t talk about it, and usually no one thinks to ask. But if you did, Namjoon and Seokjin would tell. They aren’t keeping secrets, and if you asked them, they’d answer. It just so happens that on a Sunday, not much different from any other Sunday, the other boys think to ask.

So how do two people who are always together end up… together?

two things: 1) this fic is part of a larger series, but I have not read the other parts 2) you do need an ao3 account to read this fic.

besides that, this fic is so beautiful and holds an extra special place in my heart. this fic isn’t really about Jin and Namjoon, it’s more about everything else surrounding their romantic relationship; their friendship, their internal struggles, the other impactful people in their lives. it’s about their personal journeys, but the fic is also a platform to discuss some really important issues in a very thoughtful way. I’m not sure how to explain it well, but even though this fic is really sad at times, the parts that made me cry were the hopeful ones, the parts that made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

I Don't Regret a Thing by  HeavenlyHell [Yoonseok]

Hoseok is a host working in a shadier part of town, living in a small apartment complex just away from the main and busy buzz of the big city. All he really was planning to do was get some gross food and continue his gross life, but he also manages to spot a very gross (and bloody, which is gross) body on the ground. Except, the body is alive, and upon closer inspection, isn't as gross as it seems.

this fic is actually kind of funny and cute. if you want something lighter (especially compared to the previous two) this is a good option. also I want Yoongi’s hair.

Creating a Home by CheekyBrunette [Namjin]

(I didn’t put an official summary for this one because it’s actually a series)

Foster Care AU- it’s literally the softest, cutest, sweetest thing you will ever read oh my god I love kid fics so much they’re so cute. this one actually deals with some heavy stuff since it’s the foster care system, and so there’s tough situations that put them in the system, but many of the kids also find new difficulties once they’re in the system. but seriously, nothing will make your heart suffer more than little kid bangtan. btw, Namjin are the parents. IT’S SO FLUFFY. like, even when Jin is losing his mind and it feels like shit is falling apart, it is immediately fluffy after.

On Patrol by  Ragi [Jikook/Yoonseok/Namjin]

Officer Jeon has his eyes on Mr. Adorable.

Officer Min has a strange neighbor he can't seem to keep out of his life.

Captain Kim finds comfort in his son's homeroom teacher.

Well, cops need some loving too, right?

that’s the summary for part 1, but it’s actually a two-part series. the summary makes it sound super fluffy, but there’s actually a fair amount of violence and angst. it’s all happy in the end though, don’t worry. (I basically only read fics with happy endings) also, kid Tae is so cuteee.

i've been drinking, i've been drinking by decompositionbooks [Jikook]

Jungkook tries to figure Jimin out with Yoongi's trademarked "What Your Drink Says About You" alcohol psychoanalysis.

All he knows is that Jimin likes fruity little drinks.

this one is really cute and a little sad. the best part of this fic for me was the fact that it really improved my knowledge of drinks lol

doubt thou the stars are fire by iwillalwaysbelieve [Jikook/Yoonseok]

Jeon Jeongguk's got a Reputation™. Park Jimin learns how to not give a shit about it. 

this one is really short but really cute : )

White Chalk by g_odalisque13 [Taegi]

Yoongi had been aware of the shadow for as long as he could remember.

Sometimes he went months without feeling like it was just a few steps behind him or waiting around the next corner. But no matter how long he was able to avoid it, it always came back. Always.

It's 1993, and Yoongi is a music major starting his sophomore year in college. A bunch of stupid dares from his friends aren't supposed to turn his world upside down. Then again, maybe it's not the dares. Maybe it's just Taehyung.

I don’t know how to effectively describe how much I love this fic, but I love this fic so damn much. it’s just so well written and funny and genuine and it’s really honest and nice and it makes me happy

tie the knot by jivenchys (bareJinerals) [Jikook]

Either stay married to an arrogantly conceited billionaire for one year and get a million dollars in return, or drown in his father’s debt with the risk of ending up on the streets. Signing the prenup suddenly seems harder than it looks.

mate let me tell you, this is the slowest fucking slowburn you will ever read in the history or slowburn. every other fic on this list is complete except for this one, but even though this one is still in progress, it’s so fucking good that it’s definitely worth the wait. I have not felt excitement equivalent to that when I saw that this fic was updated recently. even though it’s still in progress, this is one of my all time favorites

hey, you never walk alone by deuxoiseaux [Yoonseok]

"Are you stalking me, or something?" Hoseok demands, more than loud enough for his voice to carry to the roof of the two-story building overhead. "This is seriously the fourth time I've seen you today alone! What is your deal? Why are you always everywhere I go lately?"

The man in the red and blue suit peeks down at Hoseok from the rooftop ledge. "...I thought I was being stealthy," he answers, and Hoseok can hear the pout in his voice even with his face hidden behind that mask. It's kind of endearing, even if it's still annoying.

(or: the spiderman au nobody asked for but exists now, i guess)

this is so cute! it’s a really short fic, but I love the characterizations a lot : )

a sugar coated pill and a pick me up by whomstisthis [Namjin]

As Namjoon stood slightly removed from the scene, bemusedly watching the six-year-olds swarm around his cooler (which he had borrowed from his mom), he didn’t even notice that someone had sidled up next to him until he heard the tiny, but undoubtedly exasperated, huff.

He followed the sound, turning his head to the right. A guy was standing there, arms crossed, lips pursed. He let out another huff, louder this time, but only slightly.

Namjoon refused to acknowledge him. What the fuck was this guy’s deal? Was he really that bitter that his six-year-old just lost a soccer game for six-year-olds?

One more huff from the guy.

He was beginning to think this guy’s lips were just perpetually pursed and would simply never, ever unpurse themselves, when he, the guy, finally unpursed his lips to speak.

“I just think it’s pretty irresponsible to bring Gatorade to a soccer game for first graders,” he said, huffily, “No offense.”

(or: namjin are soccer dads who fall in luv)

kid!tae and kid!kook are friends and it’s really cute and also I love Jin and Joon’s banter. also, this is explicitly set in new york, which makes for an interesting cultural cross. (and completely unrelated, this fic taught me about Richard Siken, who is a heart wrenching poet)

Of Lace Panties and Accidental Magic by jonghyunslisterine [Jikook]

In which a meddlesome teenage witch makes a considerable mistake mixing her potions.

(Or; Jungkook can't lie, Jimin's not looking like himself, and everyone knows Jungkook's in love with Jimin - except Jimin.)

this one of the few cisgirl!bangtan fics that I like (even though Jimin’s not technically a girl). often the whole “bangtan as girls au” thing feels kind of forced, but here Jimin’s gender thing is actually constructive to the fic rather than distracting. it’s really cute and jikook are a whole mess but it’s fine

hounds of love by fitzgarbage [Namjin]

Seokjin hasn't been back in a long time.

it’s kind of melancholy but it’s really well written. the last tag is “some characters are sad”. yeah. a large part of this fic is about growth and self discovery and I think that’s really why I like it.

girls just want to have fun by fitzgarbage [Yoonseok/Vmin/Namjin/Jinkook]

“Namjoon told me you’d probably be haunting a corner. I didn’t know what he meant, but I think I get it now.” He’s breathing hard. “I knew you right away. You look really good, by the way.”

transgender, intersex, and nb characters. I have a lot of things to say about this fic but my brain isn’t really working right now so I may end up having to make a separate post. I just have a lot of things to say about this fic. there are some fics that aren’t just enjoyable to read, they’re also important to read. that’s this. fair warning, you’re going to want to wrap everyone in blankets and protect them from the world forever after you’re done reading this.

Internecine by jawsbar (GryfoTheGreat) [Yoonseok]

Everyone gets a soulmate. You don't get a choice in the matter. Fate decides who you love, whether you like it or not, and to her credit, she usually gets it right.

This time, Fate fucks up. Like, majorly.

(Or: Failed idol Jung Hoseok is bonded to the very person who destroyed his dream.)

HOLY SHIT. SO FUCKING GOOD. READ THIS. JUST DO IT. I DON’T CARE IF IT TAKES YOU A WEEK. JUST DO IT. there’s a lot of real issues within the industry that the author talks about and it’s things that you might already know about and things that you may not know about. it’s really informative and beautiful and amazing and just go read it. (also the author is a sweetheart, super nice person : ))

harvest moon, recall your youth by blackranger (robpatFF)[Taegi/Namseok/Jikookjin]

“How drunk was I?” Yoongi asks. “Did I seriously tell you my whole life story before we hooked up?”

“No,” Taehyung giggles. “Silly Min Yoongi. You told me your life story before we got married. Then we fucked. Like a honeymoon, you know?”

Or, Yoongi and Taehyung get drunk married in Las Vegas.

the taegi is really sweet and the namseok is nice too

the waiting game by bonnia [Jikook]

It’s a waiting game. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t have to come back, but with every little touch, every time Jungkook does, and every time Jungkook lies down right next to him, pressed up close, torturously warm and smelling like cigarette smoke and cologne, Jimin can’t help but feel like he could — would — wait years just for Jungkook to come back to him again.

(Or: In which Jimin is a prostitute and Jungkook is his favourite customer.)

it’s really sad and then it’s really sweet. Kookie is a sweetheart and Jimin needs a hug

boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away by 777335

Summer before his third year, Hoseok says he wants to move out of the dorms and Yoongi replies easily, “My lease is almost up, wanna get a place together?”

Hoseok can’t speak for a second, just wants.

“Seok?” Yoongi says, pushing his glasses up with the heel of his hand, tongue poking into his cheek nervously. “We don’t— we don’t have to, never mind.”

“No,” Hoseok says, taking the half step to their table, sliding Yoongi’s beer toward him, settling on his stool with his caipirinha. He chews on the straw. “No, no,” he can feel the smile breaking across his face, “that sounds great, that sounds really nice. Holy shit, yeah, let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” A shy smile touches the corners of Yoongi’s mouth. “Yeah? Okay. We could get a couch for Holly.”

//

or hoseok and yoongi meet on the internet, become friends, both end up in seoul, become better friends, move in together, and then eat some pancakes. oh, also they make out.

it’s really cute! they’re so sweet and they actually communicate and it’s nice and they kind of remind me of my relationship with someone very close to me ; )

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I have some more recs, but I wanted to post these so that this didn’t sit in my drafts forever lol. happy reading! dm me if you love any of these a lot and we can gush together : )))

[xsugarskullx]

3rd POV

It was the early hour of 6:00 am. In a small suburban neighborhood.The household was mostly empty, with 5 of the inhabitants away at work. But the last inhabitant just barely waking up to go to her second week of high school. It was normal for the most part but across town in a rich neighborhood an unhappy high school bully victim gets ready for the day.

1st POV

Hello readers my name is Katerah Bermuda and today is the beginning of the rest of my life. Stereotypical? I know but the author was going through a bit of writer's block while writing this. Hopefully the rest of this chapter won't end up crappy. And maybe ,just maybe, you'll get a good story to read. Anyway I guess I should go on with the story.

It was the second week of my freshman year of high school and shit was about to go down. You see I was getting ready and everything was, as said, normal. It wasn't until I got on the school bus that things got weird. Normally i'm the one who gets on first and sits at the back of the bus. But today it was this girl in a black trench coat. Which was strange considering this is Arizona and in the summer. And anyone from Arizona will tell you that wearing a trench coat in the summer is a completely retarded idea. It was like 110 degrees out (couldn't find the actual symbol). But I didn't really care it was too hot to care about anything.

So instead I sit right behind the bus driver and put on my head phones. An hour passes and its thirty minutes to the first bell. I like this bus driver she's usually late to pick up but she bakes and gives me treats. Plus this school was only designed for freshman and sophmores. Apparently the person the school is named after didn't like upperclassmen constantly picking on them during pep rallies. There was another school across town created mostly for high school dropouts and seniors/juniors. You know second-year seniors who couldn't go back to the school they were at before because they didn't allow second-year seniors.

Like most schools this one didn't have lockers in the hallways, except in gym classes. So i just went to the cafeteria to get my breakfast and sat down. This is a pretty small school so there was only like five people in there excluding me. And it's not like it matters anyway but this school only does two 2 hour long classes. My first class is algebra 1 and health. Every morning I have to text one of my uncles because they are over protective with me. There's 4 of them. My uncles Nick Bermuda the 40 year old mayor of our town. Michael Bermuda a 30 year old veterinarian. He's a big animal person. And the twins Kyoya and Takashi who are 19 year old mechanics.

And finally my nana Rose-Marie Bermuda. She's a 58 year old mercenary, but shhh don't tell anyone. I bet you're wondering about my parents, well my mom died during childbirth and I never knew my dad. And i'm pretty sure my mom didn't know him either. My family is kinda weird my nana had 5 kids with 4 married men. And they weren't married to her either. And the apples didn't fall far from the tree. I would probably have so many cousins if it weren't for my nana scaring my uncles when they hit puberty into wearing condoms at all times.

(WARNING: GETS PRETTY DARK IN THE FIRST CHAPTER, WILL TRY TO MAKE IT MORE FUNNY LATER ON. italics is thought parenthesis it author speaking feedback is wanted most,if not all, pictures can be made on games at DollDivine.com or google anything in italics is thoughts and parenthesis is author talking. btw the picture is of katerahKuuh- terraP.S forgot the main character was supposed to be tall and fat so i fixed it.)(also forgot where and when the time is so forget the jacket im too lazy to fix it.

[seriouslycromulent]

I found this article online, but I didn’t see it shared anywhere here on Tumblr, so I thought I’d bring it to the attention of the Midnight, Texas fandom. Especially since this interview with Bernardo Saracino touches on a number of issues that I’ve discussed before regarding his character on MTX, and why there’s a difference between being a stereotype and painting characters of color as perfect to avoid being accused of being a stereotype. (I maintain that both are equally damaging to PoC, and Chuy is neither.)

Anyway, here’s MTX’s Bernardo Saracino sharing his insight on why this role was a rare find. You can click the link above to read it on the official website or read the text I copied over below. Maybe it’ll help feed some of the fandom’s headcanons. :-)

**BTW, if you see any bold italics below, the emphasis is mine.

____

BERNARDO SARACINO: ‘MIDNIGHT’ CHARACTER BREAKS STEREOTYPES

CURT WAGNER - SEPTEMBER 5, 2017

Midnight, Texas revealed Chuy Strong’s supernatural secret, but the demon’s major superpower is breaking stereotypes, says actor Bernardo Saracino.

“I was in love with the … fact that Chuy’s just a guy. He happens to be Hispanic. He happens to be gay. He’s fully developed with feelings and emotions. He’s in a loving relationship. He’s married. He’s a whole person,” Saracino said. “That was my excitement when I read for the role.”

In the latest episode of the supernatural series based on the novels of Charlaine Harris, Chuy and his hubby of a thousand years, the angel Joe, told their fellow Midnighters that Chuy is half human and half demon.

During a phone conversation before the episode aired Sept. 4, I told Saracino I believed his character was a demon. He offered no hint that I had figured out Chuy’s secret.

“I’ve read a lot of interesting theories online,” he said before changing the subject. Later in our chat, he agreed that Chuy and Joe share a Romeo and Romeo love story. (Read: Pair of Romeos in ‘Midnight, Texas.’)

The duo had to come clean in the “Angel Heart” episode because another fallen angel flew into town to hunt down Joe (Jason Lewis). Bowie (Breeda Wool) and Joe used to slay heaven’s enemies together, before Joe met Chuy and “betrayed” Bowie, as she seemed to believe.

The episode revealed how Joe and Chuy met. Joe intervened when Chuy was getting beaten up by attackers. What wasn’t clear to me was when Joe learned Chuy was a demon.

“Joe didn’t know he was a demon until he saw the black [demon] blood,” Saracino said Tuesday during another phone chat. “As far as Joe knew, he stepped in to help a person getting beat up and robbed of his shoes.”

Joe fell for Chuy despite him being half demon, Saracino said, partly because of Chuy’s decision to live a life of pacifism. In the episode, Joe explains to their friends that when he asked Chuy why he didn’t turn demon to dispatch his attackers, Chuy said, “Maybe they needed the shoes more than I did.”

“That shows what kind of person Chuy is,” Saracino said Tuesday. “That line really solidified for me Chuy’s strong character and how he has resisted his demon side through positivity and pacifism.”

Chuy showed his stereotype-busting character again in the episode. After a failed attempt by the other Midnighters to banish Bowie to hell, Chuy was all that was left between Joe’s survival or death. Despite the danger his demonic transformation posed to him and his fellow Midnighters, Chuy went full demon and killed the bad angel.

“Every time the Midnighters fight a villain they are united by their love of each other,” Saracino said, adding that Chuy had to turn demon for his friends. “They all choose to live there and they stay and fight for the family that they’ve chosen.”

The fight will continue next week, when NBC airs new episodes at 9/8c Sept. 11 and 12 before wrapping up the first season on Sept. 18. Saracino said even though Chuy is having a hard time fighting the tearing of the veil—not unlike Lem and the Rev are—he will stick around Midnight to help in the coming battle against evil. But it won’t be easy.

“At this point in time, the shit’s really going to hit the fan,” he said. “We’re talking about this world ending.”

Saracino and I talked more about Chuy as man and beast, as well as how the character breaks a couple of Hollywood stereotypes, and what he thinks of Grandma Xylda.

-----

ON CHUY’S DECISION TO EMBRACE NON-VIOLENCE:

“Chuy has learned throughout his lifetime—which has been quite some time—that it’s never to our benefit to be extremely reactionary. He has chosen to be a pacifist. That’s the part of Chuy that I fell in love with when I read the scripts.”

ON THE AFFECT KILLING BOWIE WILL HAVE ON CHUY:

I think Chuy knows how dark he can get. That’s why he’s always trying to stay positive and seeking love. To know that you have that amount of darkness inside of you—it must be a struggle to keep it at bay. It’s an internal struggle because it’s not who he chose to be. So he wasn’t happy to [transform and kill Bowie], but he did it to save those he loved.”

ON THE MAKEUP FOR CHUY THE DEMON:

“The makeup took about three hours to apply, but prior to that I flew to Pasadena and they did a body mold and a face cast to have those to create Chuy’s body and face prosthetics. They had to paint and tailor it to my actual face for filming. It fits so perfectly and snuggly I’d forget it was on my face.”

ON HOW CAST AND CREW REACTED TO SARACINO IN MAKEUP:

“No one really knew until our table read that he was a demon. For all those episodes we were wondering. … I would forget that [the makeup] was on. Off set we were always talking and these cast members are so funny we’d always be laughing. On those days they’d be like, ‘I can’t talk to you’ or ‘This is too much.’”

ON HOW CHUY BREAKS ONE STEREOTYPE:

“As an actor of color, what I really loved about Chuy was that he was not written in a stereotypical way. There are very few roles and opportunities for Latin actors—male or female—in American cinema. Less than 3 percent of roles go to Latin actors despite us being the largest minority in the United States.

“So I was used to portraying stereotypes—gang members, drug dealers. I mean, they paid my bills so I have a love/hate relationship with those kinds of roles. But I don’t want the world to see Latin men as only drug lords. I read this and it was a complete breath of fresh air. It was phenomenal.”

“Latin characters on TV don’t have to be drug lords and gay men can be in loving relationships. … I do believe representation matters.”

ON HOW CHUY AND JOE BUST ANOTHER STEREOTYPE:

“They’re never introduced by saying, ‘This is Chuy and Joe; they’re two dudes and they [have sex]. They’re just two dudes in love. [Their sexuality] is addressed in the show in such a major way by not being addressed. It just is. The veil of Earth is tearing, and that’s not going to come between them.

“Someone might watch this show and realize gay people are not the stereotypes that Hollywood has told people they are, which is A. extremely promiscuous, or B. complete alcoholics, or C. not able to love.”

A FINAL THOUGHT ON THE SUBJECT OF BUSTING STEREOTYPES:

“If we go to a second season, there are going to millions of people around the world who are going to welcome this couple into their living rooms. And that matters to me. That will have a lasting effect on people who won’t have to be depressed because they’ve never seen anyone like themselves on TV. Young gay men and women will grow up watching this supernatural show with their families. A show that was not meant to be political, but gives them representation. I am humbled by that.”

ON WHAT THE VEIL BETWEEN HELL AND EARTH TEARING SYMBOLIZES TO SARACINO:

“All of us as humans are at such a fragile point because the veil—or the ground we stand on—is constantly in flux. We forget that everything … we hold valuable and near and dear is so fragile. We choose to avoid thinking about that, because we’d go crazy if we didn’t [ignore it].”

“To me that’s the most beautiful part of human existence, that we are able to find the beauty in what is fleeting by avoiding what is happening.”

ON WHAT HE HOPES VIEWERS GET FROM WATCHING MIDNIGHT, TEXAS:

“I hope people find a good hour of entertainment and escapism. It makes them happy. But I also hope they get the subliminal message we have in ‘Midnight’ about family and coming together. …

“I hope people take away the idea that family doesn’t necessarily have to be blood relatives. It also can be the people that you choose to surround yourself with and who have your back and who love you and vice versa. They accept you with all your quirks and you accept them—simply because love is the answer. What I would like people to take away is to choose love and to see the beauty in every other humans around you.”

ON WHAT HE BROUGHT TO THE ROLE OF CHUY:

“Chuy’s a little bit guarded and private. He’s not at the restaurant every night; he has a life he keeps to himself. I brought that level of being cognizant when you do and don’t allow people into your world. And outside of that the ability to find self love and peace within your own existence in a world that, because of the way one perceives it, isn’t welcoming. But finding a level where you can reconcile your peace and your self love and finding that place in your heart.

“As we started filming, I knew [Monica Owusu-Breen] had spent much more time with Chuy than I had. So I asked her to tell me more about how she saw him. She talked about how he has this level of self love against all odds, which I think is part of our human journey and part of my tapestry, too. I lost my mom and sister when I was a kid; my grandparents raised my brother and I.

“We’ll find out later that Chuy has had a lot of loss in his life. It was really existential moment for me when I learned this. I kept thinking, ‘How on Earth did these writers know that I could relate to Chuy at this level?’

“I remember living under a black cloud [after my family loss]. A lot of people don’t realize there is a level of shame, kind of, to being motherless when you’re a kid. You don’t want anyone to know. I would avoid talking about my mother or sister. I thought if I told people they died then they would treat me like a wounded puppy. … When you’re a kid you don’t want that kind of attention.

“There are a lot of levels of Chuy’s existence that he had to hide in order to go unnoticed. That resonated with me because I’ve done the same thing.”

AND FINALLY, ON MANFRED’S GHOSTLY GRANDMOTHER:

“I love her. Grandma Xylda [Joanne Camp] is like my spirit animal. I want a talking cat and a Grandma Xylda. I would be so happy. Wow, that says a lot about me.”

[peterparkerschurro]

Undercover Student (she saw it) - Tom Holland series

 Pairing: eventual Tom x reader

Summery: Have you heard Tom’s story about his time as an undercover student? Well, I was thinking, what would have happened if the event had sparked a friendship? This is the story…

Part 2/?

Warnings: Swearing maybe...

Word count: 622

Bold : Y/N   ,   Italic : Tom

A/N: So this is the second part of my first Tom series. This is set a few months after the reader and Tom met. Hope you like it and feedback is always accepted happily.  Part 1 

(gif not mine)

Few months later - around the time civil war came out:

Tom was in his trailer with Harrison, waiting for his next scene when you texted him.

Dude.

DuDe.

DUDE!!!!!

Tom chuckled to himself at your dramatic nature.

What?

What?

What?

Why didn’t you tell me?!

Tell you what?

What was I supposed to tell you?

That you’re FucKIng SpIdeRMan!!!!!

You’ve seen it?

Oh, I’ve seen it

And I’m FREAKING OUT!!!!

Why didn’t you tell me?!!!

Tom burst out laughing reading your little freak out. Harrison noticed and asked him what’s up.

“Just talking to Y/N.” He answered still laughing. Harrison quirked an eyebrow. “So… What’s so funny.” He persisted, curious as to what made his friend so amused.

“She saw it.” Tom replied, turning to his friend, smirking.

“She saw it?!”

“She saw it.”

“Holy shit.” Harrison said as he rushed to his side, also wanting to see the most-probably-hilarious reaction of the girl they both learned to love.

“Yap.” Tom said as he turned his attention back to you.

Technically, I did tell you. You just didn’t believe me.

It was quiet on the other side as three dots kept springing up and down.

Finally, you responded.

Well

I

I,

Oh shut up!

The two guys laughed at their friend. She almost always knew what to say, almost always had some smart remark up her sleeve, but when she didn't, it was hilarious.

Believe me now?

Shut up!

“So, what happens now?” Haz asked Tom. “Do you think things will change now that she knows? Especially since we kept it from her for so long?"

“I don’t think so. I don’t think she’s like that.” Tom said seriously, looking between his friend and his phone, laughing once more when you sent him a picture of one of the Captain America : Civil War posters in the cinema you were in with the caption;

Team Cap all the way ;)

“I mean, you’ve seen her reaction.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

There was a comfortable silence between the two best friends as they both returned to their previous doings - Harrison scrolling through Instagram and Tom talking to you.

Bucky is innocent btw

A person with a metal body part is never innocent.

My grandpa has a metal knee…

Well, who said he was innocent.

I did

Like I said Bucky is innocent

Leave him alone

Mr. Stark told me not to ;)

Oh my god

Did you just use the character card?

You bet I did

“Hey Tom.” Harrison’s voice drew Tom’s attention back to Haz who was now rummaging his mini fridge. “Yeah?” “Do you want to invite her to the set? Now that she knows?”

Tom thought about it for a few seconds. He did want you here. He didn’t see you since his days in school, and even though you two kept in touch through texts, calls and facetimes, it wasn’t the same.

Plus, it was your birthday soon, and what better present than this?

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t seen her in so long and she will freak out. You know how much she loves Marvel. I just need to set everything with Jon.”

“I’ll do that and will fix a date, you talk to her and make sure she has a flight.” Harrison said smiling, then exiting the trailer.

Tom smiled to himself. He was so excited to surprise you with this.

He already started planning all of the things you will do together when his phone buzzed, signifying he got another text from you.

I gotta go but I’ll facetime you later if you’re free

Maybe I’ll even wear my spidey pj’s just to tease you ;)

Yap, he can’t wait to see you again.

-----

Thank you for reading :)