#I PROMISED ART FROM BEFORE I MESSED UP MY BACK SO HERE WE GO

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 10: The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic

I’ll address the elephant in the room. And, no, I’m not talking about Jake Dunn’s brown suit! Or, that he’s posing with a man. Or, that Tyler commented “Bellissimo!!!!” on Jake's post.

I don’t think a lot of people understood the connection I was making this morning about “Mis-Directed,” Gwilym Lee, and Jake.  So, now I feel the need to explain because I don’t want people running with a narrative that goes in the opposite direction of where I was taking it.

Sorry, JVN, you’re getting pushed to the side again. I promise, I’ll get to you one day.

Let’s go back two months…

On September 25, Nicola posted to her Instagram stories a link to Alex Babsky’s post, which was a picture of Nicola. She had her hair and make-up done but she was wearing one of her own dresses (the black dress she wore in Australia and Brazil). Babsky captioned his post “[pink bow] @nicolacoughlan in London today for…well, never mind what for actually [laughing emoji with hand over mouth] [winking emoji] [shushing emoji].” Nicola responded, “You’re amazing it was so gorgeous to see you xxx.”

Babksy’s caption sent the fandom into hysteria wondering what the hell Nicola was up to. It didn’t help that this was the same day Luke updated his Instagram bio and used “Xx” and it didn’t help that Nicola was wearing the black dress she allegedly wore on her beach walk in Brazil with Luke.

Do you want to know what I thought the photo of Nicola was from? I’m not going to lie – I thought it was pre-wedding makeup. Seriously, not kidding. It reminded me of my own wedding day. Formal hair and makeup and my own dress that was easy to take off without messing up the hair and makeup. I never said I wasn’t a little bit delulu.

On November 5, an author named Lucy Parker announced on her Instagram feed that she had a new Audible book called “Mis-Directed” being released in February 2025. The post came with pictures of Nicola wearing the black dress and the same hair and makeup as the September 25 post. Nicola (presumably) is reading the part of Hattie Murton, and Gwilym Lee (presumably) is reading the part of Anthony Rafe.

Oh, okay.

Turns out, I was wrong.

So, Nicola and Luke didn’t get married.

Fine.

I have always liked crows.

But, wait a minute – what the fuck is this Audible book about? A woman who stars in a romantic drama called “Leicester Square” (what the fuck?) which was adapted from a best-selling romance novel (what the fuck??). Then, in comes our antagonist, Anthony Rafe, who plays opposite of Hattie and, let me quote here, “But when very real chemistry sparks during their scripted love scenes, Hattie begins to think the industry’s legendarily heartless Bad Guy [Anthony] might just a have a pulse after all. And Anthony, for his part, is caught off-guard by the way his heart races when he’s around his aggravating onscreen lover. As reality starts to imitate art a little too close for comfort, the world’s most unlikely couple might just have more in common than they thought…” (what the fuck???).

Let’s start with Leicester Square. What the hell is Leicester Square? Oh, the name of the fake television show on which Hattie and Anthony star. Sure, Jan. Is it odd to anyone else that Leicester Square is the name of the location of where the London premiere of Bridgerton Season 3 took place? You know, the event that happened hours before Papsmear.

Then we have the make-believe show being adapted from a best-selling romance novel. Mmm hmm.

Let’s try and not make the connection between Luke and Anthony. Mmm hmm.

And, let’s add fuel to the fire and have two co-stars falling in love with each other.

Yeah, we get it. It’s a Lukola FanFic being read by none other than Nicola. I mean, the only way it could be any better is if Luke was reading the part of Anthony Rafe! But, no, that part is being read by Gwilym Lee (who is fantastic in everything he does, by the way).

Who is Gwilym Lee? Well, he’s an actor (my father calls him “Midsomer”). Ask Mr. Google about him. But, if you check out his Instagram feed, you will find that he knows Jake and has since, at least, 2022. Is it possible that Nicola met Gwilym through Jake? Yeah, it is.

Now, why do I find this situation intriguing? Specifically, why did I find the post from Jake this morning posing with Gwilym interesting (and a bit shady)? Let me explain.

The Jakholes took the “Mis-Directed” FanFic as shade towards the Lukolas. Yes, they went there because that FanFic does not (in the least) fit nicely into their Jakola narrative. I mean, if it wasn’t shade to the Lukolas, how weird the storyline must have been for Jake! The writing was audibly on the wall, in big red letters, but the Jakholes chose to spin it into something messier than my hair in the morning after sleeping on it wet.

What exactly is this theory? Well, per the Jakholes, Nicola hates the Lukola fandom so much that she sat and read (likely, for hours) this Lukola-coded FanFic just to spite us! I mean, Anthony is a bad boy in this story and “everyone loves to hate” him (don’t forget, Luke became the devil incarnate after Papsmear). And, Hattie is tired of the “brutal press, overly invested fans, and a cutthroat industry…[that] would give even Pollyanna an edge of cynicism.” The Jakholes believe this means Nicola is saying she’s really in love with Jake and she wants us all to know that by reading a Harlequin-style romance about a woman who falls in love with her costar! Oh, my God!! How could she?!

What in the actual fuck are the Jakholes drinking with this bullshit? I know, I know. I shouldn’t expect anything better from people who ship Jake with Nicola. In fact, if I was a Jakhole, I might buy into this conspiracy theory. But, I’m not a fucking Jakhole. And, guess what Jakholes? I don’t mind breaking the hearts of Lukolas by saying we’re probably never going to see sexy-hot Brazil pictures of Luke and Nicola, so I don’t mind telling Jakholes to put this theory back into Davy Jones’ locker and feed it to that bitch Kraken.

Let’s talk a bit further about the absurdity of this “Nicola is shading Lukola” subplot from Hell.

We will pretend Nicola hates Luke. She hates Lukola. She baits the Lukola fandom for shits and giggles.

What would this make Nicola?

It would make her a villain, for starters (and “villain” is me being extremely nice).

More importantly, it would make Nicola a PR nightmare.

Even if Nicola and Luke despised each other, do you believe Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land would allow Nicola to play games with the Lukola fandom? Talk about playing with fire!

The reality is the lines between Polin and Lukola are heavily blurred at this point. I hate to say it – and maybe a lot of you will view me as a complete asshole after I say this – but, if I learned Nicola was shading the Lukolas (therefore, in my opinion, trolling Luke), I would not be interested in Bridgerton Season 4. Or, Season 5. Or, any season after that. Or, in Nicola, for that matter. You’re welcome to have your own opinion about this but I would feel incredibly betrayed, and not just by Nicola. On top of that, for me, Polin has become Lukola. They’re so blurred, they don’t even resemble a line anymore. Maybe that’s a bad position to be in, but that’s where I’m at. Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not going to rehash the breadcrumbs left by Nicola that support Lukola – if you know, you know (or you can catch up by spending an afternoon on Tumblr). Even Luke, in his own way, leaves Lukola-coded crumbs. We also have damn convincing evidence that Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land support Lukola. I mean, even they’re blurring the lines with “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” and interestingly timed images of Polin. So, do you think they’re going to let Nicola fuck with that on a public forum?

That would be a cold, hard NO.

But, this Audible book – “Mis-Directed” – is loud and made louder because Nicola is reading it.

So, what is this Audible book? Shade? Or, Nicola being cutesy? I’m going to place my bets on the latter solely because, like I said, the Corporate Office is not going to let Nicola shade Lukola because it has a direct effect on Polin.

That’s not to say that the excitement of this Lukola-coded “Mis-Directed” FanFic wasn’t attacked by the Jakholes from all sides, and the wind – for the moment – was kicked out of it. That’s a different story for a different day.

But, what I found so intriguing about Jake’s post today is that, of all the people he could have included in his photo (because there’s obviously lots of people at this event), he chose Gwilym. And, this means people will look into Gwilym. People will realize that Gwilym is the other side of “Mis-Directed.” People will realize Jake and Gwilym are friends. People will realize that Jake’s friend is reading a Lukola-themed romance novel with Nicola.

And, if we agree that the book is not shade towards the Lukolas and we agree that Jakola is not real, what is the significance of the connection between Jake and Gwilym? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But, the connection – at least in my mind (and it’s been there since November 5) – is that Jake supports “Mis-Directed” because he supports Lukola and he has always been there, helping Nicola lay the breadcrumbs. He wanted people to look into Gwilym and make the connection. Jake could very well be the one who suggested Gwilym read the part of Anthony. Jake is the degree of separation.

I want to close this out by noting that Jake also liked the post Nicola has pinned on her Instagram grid – the black and white one about her Time 100 article. You know, the one where Nicola says, “A lot of people really want me to marry Luke.” Follow the links and it will take you to this article. That’s an interestingly placed like by Jake, in my opinion – as is his photo op with Gwilym.

[jasminerva]

You v. Nagumo and Toddler

This is Part 2 of the Papa!Gumo series!

gn!reader co-parent

Check out Part 1 here: What kind of father would Nagumo be?

Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist!

Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

Banner img from Gakuen Babysitters by Tokeino Hari.

Was having a convo with @akifordessert about Papagumo and the nicknames he'd give his kiddo(s). And thank you, Memi (@dearsecretlover) for inspo and motivation (and for sharing this Papa!gumo art by mxeong__) as always~!

But I digress! Here's the little scolding imagine I promised!

nagumo x gn!reader = gn!toddler in their terrible twos [c/n] = your toddler's name [f/n] = your first name

You: Nagumo! [c/n]! What the heck happened in the living room?! Nagumo looked around his surroundings. It was as if the usually orderly living room had two tornadoes sweep through it, an explosion of scattered toys everywhere, overturned furniture, ripped paper decorations, and colourful fingerprints adorning the walls. Nagumo & Your Toddler: (both in a kneeling position, getting scolded by you) Nagumo: (trying not to grin) [f/n], it's no biggie. Just some father-child bonding gone awry. [c/n], your rambunctious toddler, mirrored his pose perfectly beside him, eyes wide with feigned innocence that couldn't hide the sparkle of mischief dancing in their depths. Nagumo couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at his miniature accomplice's acting skills. You: Oh, really? Father-child? But I only see two children in front of me. Nagumo: Now, now! (holds hands up) See? No paint on my hands. (wiggles digits) Clearly, I'm just an innocent bystander here. You: Yeah, that doesn't help your case. You're the adult in this disorderly duo, or did you forget? Nagumo: I suppose cleaning duty falls upon us two, hmm? Let's clean up this mess before it becomes an international incident. He cast a conspiratorial wink at your toddler, who giggled delightedly at being included in their imaginary fellowship against their ever-so-serious parent. You: (sighs) Nagumo... I'm sick of having to be the mean parent--let alone adult--in this relationship. They have to learn how to clean up their own messes eventually, you know. Nagumo: You're right. We can't let them run wild like this. But it's just so hard to discipline this angelic face (tickles [c/n]'s chubby cheek, causing them to erupt into a fit of laughter, squirming happily). You: (unimpressed face) Nagumo: All right. (playful but stern enough tone) Focus, Agent [c/n], your mission, should you choose to accept it... Together, Nagumo and [c/n] tackled the mess, turning cleaning into a fun game of hide-and-seek with the scattered toys and art supplies.

Nagumo: (grabs a juice from the fridge) You: Nagumo! [c/n] doesn't need more sugar! Nagumo's grin widened into a smirk as your toddler took advantage of the situation and quickly gulped down the forbidden juice. Nagumo: Aw, shucks. Looks like we're too late. You: (narrowing eyes) If [c/n] doesn't end up learning anything, I'm going to discipline you both. In the 'mean parent' way. Nagumo: (clapping) All right, Agent [c/n]! Operation Clean Slate isn't complete until Big Boss says so. Your Toddler: (salutes and gets back to cleaning, hands and mouth sticky with juice) Nagumo: (grins and walks towards you) You know, [f/n], you were pretty convincing right then. I almost believed you'd actually punish me. You: (crosses arms) The day's still young. Nagumo: (leans down to whisper in your ear) Is that a promise?

[yandere-sins]

Prisoner #006

a/n: A spin on the usual yandere situation, but this story has been sitting in my drafts for a while, I think it's time to release it ^^

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Yandere!Prisoner!GN!Reader x Prisoner!Kaveh Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Reader is being psycho, lost of mentioning of murder and death, Reader stabs someone... a few times, Scratching, Intimidation, Threats, Cornering and intruding on personal space), Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction | Pinterest Moodboard]

Kaveh should have been afraid.

Deep down, he believed he wasn't as stupid and gullible as everyone made him out to be, and yet, he sat still as you drew meaningless little patterns into his skin. The stolen pen scratched over his arm, leaving the area next to the ink red and agitated, but he didn't have it in him to tell you to stop.

You've been a depressed mess since you came to prison, not your typical murderer behind bars. He'd been dealing with a lot of them, and if they weren't the psychotic type, they were haughty and always up for cruel jokes.

But not you. You were... peaceful.

Even when you cried and begged him not to hurt you after you've been brought to his cell despite his protests, the air around you was calm. Unlike the storm of personalities outside the bars of your cell, Kaveh actually managed to think in peace when he was around you. He had learned to navigate and time his way around the prison. Still, with the ruckus and disgusting things happening in the shadowy corners, there was never any space for him to let go and relax for a while—until he met you.

The knowledge about your prolific murders should have upset him enough to keep his distance, but you reminded him too much of himself when he first came here. Scared and unable to go anywhere without being harassed by the others. You clung to him desperately when he told you to tag along to the cafeteria on your first night, and you still asked him to go to the washrooms with you for safety. Kaveh couldn't blame you for being scared. It was a scary world, outside and inside of this prison.

So even though he knew about your wrong-doings, he let you scribble your marks on him in ink. You were humming a song he hadn't heard before, your mind in your own world as you left butterfly wings and flower petals on his skin, and Kaveh honestly had no complaints. Coming here, art had become sparse around him, the radio rarely running, the TV filled with sports but never dancing or acting. The paintings on the walls leading to the facilities were, frankly, hideous copies of capitalistic emphasis, and the prison layout was a smack in the face of any architect.

And then there was you. Not a Picasso per definition, but you drew the patterns effortlessly, unbothered by pressure to perform and perfectionism. Every stroke of the ballpoint pen was all you, not a style you worked to learn or something you copied from another artist. It was all and truly just you. Kaveh had no idea how much he could admire someone—even someone as terrible as you. But he did.

"Let's leave from here. Together."

The words slipped from his lips before he could even think about them. Alhaitham's plan of escaping was still fresh, depending on some hacker he met in this prison, and Kaveh should have never talked about it so casually. He couldn't promise it, couldn't say it would actually work. But when you stopped scribbling, he realized his mistake, looking up at you in horror over his own blabbermouth.

Only to be met with tears streaming from your eyes.

"You'd take me with you? After all I've done?" you mumbled, rubbing the back of your hand over your eyes.

"You... you didn't do it to me. We could start over, somewhere new. Somewhere no one knows our faces and just... live. Quietly and unknown. Only if you want to come... with me."

For a long moment, you stared at him. Unblinking, unreadable. Your arms were thrown forward, wrapping around his neck before your whole body jumped into his lap, discarding the pen and leaving it to clatter on the floor. "Yes!" you agreed euphorically, smiling from ear to ear.

Kaveh felt the heat rush into his face, happiness prickling in the corners of his eyes as he hugged you back. It almost felt like you agreed to marry him, rather than just join him on the escape. But he knew then that he'd work hard to become the man you needed in the future. Someone reliable, someone who could provide you with a life that wouldn't need you killing anybody anymore. So that the dream of you two living together in peace could become reality.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Kaveh should have been afraid.

Deep down, he was as stupid and gullible as everyone told him. He believed that you could turn over a new leaf. Running away with you could become a new start, different from the pitiful life you two had. That the two of you could live away from cruelty and bloodshed, in peace and quiet and togetherness.

And yet, he was staring down at the cold-blooded killer he fell in love with. Whose trap had been placed so subtly that Kaveh ran right into it. He didn't even know you had a knife ready on the day of your escape, and there was no one left—alive—aside from you two to turn to. Everyone who had fled had spread into different directions, and now it was only him and you and the dead corpses of the police that had caught up to you.

It was his fault, entirely so. They might have survived this encounter if he hadn't gotten close to you and you hadn't been convinced to run away with him. Had he not gotten himself caught, maybe you wouldn't have turned back to help him and had kept running instead, far, far away. Perhaps you wouldn't have pulled out your blade and killed these innocent men who were only doing their job to keep unruly people away from society. That kept psychos like you away from more victims to massacre.

"[Name]..." Kaveh stammered, not believing his own, wide-open eyes. The hand he was holding out towards you was shaking violently as he watched you slam the knife into the policeman's back again and again, blood spraying all over you and the squelching sound of flesh being stabbed echoing through the forest. Somehow, he had gotten back on his feet after being tackled to the ground. However, now that he had to watch you defend him so violently, Kaveh wished he had stayed face-down in the dirt.

"GET YOUR HAND OFF HIM! HE'S MINE!" you kept yelling at the dead body, and Kaveh couldn't help but feel pity for the guy as you mauled him. "YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM! HE BELONGS TO ME! HE'S MINE! MINE!"

Your voice was a screech in the dark, possessiveness thrumming in every word you screamed. Even if you two had grown closer the last few days, Kaveh couldn't understand your thoughts. Although you had protected him, seeing the blood drip off you in the moonlight only sent shivers down his spine rather than thankfulness. And where he felt a crush bloom in his heart before, there was nothing but terror and disgust left.

"[Name]--" he tried again, this time a little firmer as he grabbed your shoulder.

Instantly, you whirled around, fury and madness in your eyes. The bloody blade swiped up his arms, cutting up the beautifully drawn pattern left by you. Kaveh knew it was just an accident, but he couldn't help but yell, "Ow!" holding his own arm firmly against his chest as he stared at you fearfully. Stumbling back, he tripped over a root, the pain of collapsing to the ground shaking him, but fear forced him to keep watching you. What if he was your next victim? Nothing about you screamed trustworthy, and yet, when you came to your senses, you changed completely.

Suddenly, your body went slack, eyes swelling up with tears as you looked at him. "Kaveh!" you sobbed, the knife falling to the ground as you stumbled to your feet, knees buckling so you collapsed into the dirt before him. You stretched out your arms, but this time, Kaveh managed to jerk away, avoiding your blood-soaked hug.

However, you were just a little faster than him. A little more alert. You managed to grab the wounded arm, your tears stinging as they fell into his wound. Leaning over his limb, you cried bitterly, but Kaveh couldn't help but try and tug his arm from your hands. Immediately, your crying stopped, fingers clawing into your skin as he tried to get you off him—no success.

"You can't leave me!" you sobbed, looking up with tears in your eyes. Manipulative tears, as Kaveh began to realize, the reality starting to dawn on him. "I love you! We'll have a life together! We'll go somewhere no one knows us! I won't kill again, I promise! I just didn't want them to hurt you... I wanted them to leave you alone! I won't do it again, I can be harmless, I promise!"

His gut wrenched, hearing you throw his words back at him. Now knowing how easy it was for you to end someone's life, how much of a crazy person you really were, it felt like he was the one that had been gutted. Maybe everything would be fine this time, but Kaveh couldn't justify it with himself to find out. Your hands were already so bloody; no trying to pretend you were normal was going to wash away your sins. At least he never killed someone. He couldn't imagine someone doing it as easily as you had, not even thinking twice before attacking.

"N-No..." he stammered, unable to put all these feelings into words.

"No?" you repeated, the tears stopping suddenly. "What do you mean 'no'? I saved you, didn't I? Without me, you'd be the dead one!"

Your tone changed so quickly that it scared him to the bone. The fire started back up in your eyes as you glared at him. Kaveh felt your nails dig into his arm, tearing apart layers of skin as your anger turned towards him.

"You won't leave me! You can't leave me!"

With your voice raising back into screeching, Kaveh shuddered, eyeing the knife that laid out of reach. You didn't need it, your nails cutting into his flesh just as painfully. Fear was mangling every muscle in his body, making them tense and tainting his judgment.

"O-okay," he stuttered out, and immediately, the pressure vanished. Your shoulders slacked, and a smile crept back on your lips as you whispered, "Thank god..."

You hunched over his wounded arm, now punctured by your nails and the cut starting to dry up. The next thing Kaveh felt was wetness wiping over his wounds, your tongue lapping off the blood that stained him, whether it was his or the one dripping from you.

"I love you," you mumbled while licking. "I love you, Kaveh. You're so nice, so sweet. You're perfect, and you're mine. All mine. Kaveh, Kaveh, Kaveh..."

Looking down at the unsightly view before him, Kaveh couldn't help but pity himself. Had he known what he got himself into, could he have prevented this? Which version of you had been the real one, and had you pretended to be sweet and shy, tricking him into this all this time? Or was it real? So many questions and so few answers. All he could think of was how he had been scammed yet again as he watched the ink smear from your licking, the beautifully drawn butterflies vanishing alongside those in his belly, all of them dropping dead.

And now, Kaveh was afraid.

[uracutieraka]

JJK and the obnoxiously nice new girl!

Chapter one

guide

The next morning you woke up to a soft knock at your bedroom door, grumbling as you rolled out of bed and walk over, opening it to reveal your teacher.

You stare up at him for a moment before registering that he wasn't Kugisaki.

"Oh! Gojo! Hi!"

"Y/n, it's 10 a.m."

Your face grows red as you begin apologizing, stops you by telling you it's fine.

"The principal isn't mad, which is surprising because he's always mad when I'm even 2 minutes late, but hurry up and get ready, he still needs to meet with you."

You nod and apologize, shutting your door and rushing around to get ready. After 30 minutes you come out, holding your toothbrush. You jump when you see Gojo sat at the small table, munching away on a cookie.

"Geez, I forgot how long it took girls to get ready."

You chuckle and excuse yourself to go brush your teeth.

Once you remerge from the bathroom you tell him to lead the way.

The walk is decent, 15 minutes. Which meant 15 minutes of the man asking you awfully personal question.

"So which parent is it that you're running from, or is it both?"

You stare at the back of his head as you two continue walking.

"Well, both of them I guess." He turns around to face you and you just shrug your shoulders.

"So," You chirp. "Can you see through that blindfold?"

"Eh, my cursed energy helps me see."

You hum and slowly nod your head, unsure of what he could mean.

"Well, this is where we part ways, just in those doors and down the corridor, you'll find him." You look ahead at the giant doors, with intricate art work and carvings in the wood.

"How long do you think this took to make? It's so beautiful..." Your voice is barely above a whisper as your fingers gently trace the art.

Gojo looks at you and hums quizzically.

"Hmm, never thought about it."

You nod as you begin your way to the doors, opening them and walking in. You admire the beauty of the building. The complexity of the wood workings and paintings.

"Y/n L/n?" A voice booms throughout the echo-y hall. Looking forward your eyes take a moment to adjust to the candle lit room. Once they do an older man sits at the end of it, making what seems to be stuffed animals?

"Hi! That's me!" A giant smile is on your face as you wave and rush forward to be in front of him.

He looks up at you and you shiver at his cold glare.

"Uhm, what's that you're making? It's super cute!"

He continues his cold stare and your smile slowly falters and you stand up straighter, clearing your throat and messing with the hem of your short skirt.

"Your parents called yesterday."

You now look down at your feet.

"What did they want?"

He sighs and pinches his nose bridge, pushing his sun glasses up.

"Look, I don't know your full story but I know why you want to be a sorcerer. And that's good enough for me. Just call your parents, they seemed worried."

You chortle and now he looks back at you.

"I promise they are not worried. If they call again just ignore it."

When you finally look back to him he has a sad look in his eyes, but he just goes back to sewing his stuffed animal.

"Well, if that's how you feel..."

"I'm sorry. I just, ugh! They're so stupid! I came here for a reason." You now plop down on the floor in front of him and tuck your legs to your side. He looks at you in surprise. Your hand reaches out and your fingers touch the soft fabric of the stuffed animals surrounding him.

"What's up with all these anyways?"

He doesn't remember the last time someone treated him so normally.

"They're used for my cursed energy."

"Nice." You don't question him further, instead you just watch as he keeps sewing. He continues going about his normal process as you silently watch. After a few minutes you speak up again.

"Sewing is such an interesting art form."

"You think sewing is an art form?"

You tilt your head and furrow your brows.

"You don't?" You stand up and brush your skirt down, reaching a hand out to him after.

"It was really nice to meet you sir." He stands and takes your hand, shaking it.

"You as well."

You smile at him and turn, skipping off towards the door.

Once they shut, he laughs to himself.

"Sewing. As a form of art?" He says to no one but himself.

Once you exit the building you have to take a moment to adjust to the bright sun light. Once you do, you quickly spot the second years. You run down the steps and call out for Panda. He turns around and waves you over.

"L/n! Hey!"

"O-M-G! Hey! So funny running into you guys here!" You giggle at your own joke and look behind him to see the girl who you learned was Maki Zenin, and the boy Inumaki.

"Well, I mean we are at school." The girl grunts out, scowl on her face.

You slightly pout but it quickly falls from your face as you look over to the other boy.

"Inumaki! Just the person I was looking for!," You take a few steps towards him and lean up close to his face, you raise your arm up and make a hook with your index finger, pulling down the fabric covering his face. "Wow! Are those marks from your curse? They're so cool!"

He jumps back a bit, but nods his head slowly up and down, fixing his uniform to cover his face again.

"Hey, what the hell is your issue? You can't just go up and mess with people like that?" You look back over at the girl with big eyes, curious as to why she's being so rude.

"My issue? I didn't think I had one." You smile at her, though the way your voice is slightly strained sends shivers down the three's spines.

"Well..." She starts but is cut short by Inumaki's hand on her shoulder. She looks over at him and he nods 'no' to her.

"Tuna Mayo." He points at you.

You smile at him and wrap your arm with his, pulling him forward.

"I want to talk to you! I have so many questions about your communication style.," You turn back around to the other two second years. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?" Maki goes to say something but Panda cuts her off.

"Not at all!"

They watch as you two walk off, your arm still wrapped around Inumaki's as you chat his ear off.

Once the two of you are out of ear shot Maki turns towards Panda.

"What the hell?" She says.

"What? Inumaki needs to make other friends than just us!"

The two of them begin to bicker back and forth about the situation.

“So, Inumaki, do you only use ramen ingredients to communicate?”

You two are sat down in a shaded area of the courtyard. You have a small note pad in one of your hands and a pen in the other. Eyes trained on him.

Inumaki doesn't think he's ever had this much attention in his life, like ever. He can feel the heat rush up his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears.

He nods along as you ask questions.

"So, earlier, you said 'tuna mayo' and pointed to me... so does that mean you wanted me to keep talking?" He nods his head.

"Salmon."

You watch his movements closely, quickly scribbling something in your notes. He takes notice of the way your tongue slightly pokes out while you write. Once you finish you look back up at him.

"So is salmon your version of 'yes' and 'no'?"

He nods again, giving you a thumbs up.

After a few more questions he motions for you to pass him the note pad.

He flips the page and writes something down, when he's done he passes it back over to you.

'If it's easier we could always just text?'

You look back up at him, a small smile on your face.

"We can totally do that! But I still want to learn!"

You fish your phone out of your bag and fumble around with it for a moment. When you pass it to him, the contact screen is already up.

He notices the way you already put his name in.

Inu-mahi-mahi 𓆛

He chuckles and puts his number in. He hands you back your phone and you pout at your screen for a moment.

"Okay, you need to pull this down for a minute," You stick your tongue out again and you lean forward, reaching for the zipper on his shirt. You zip it down, just enough so the fabric falls away from his face. You smile and lift your phone back up. "smile, its for your contact photo!" You peek around your phone screen to give him a toothy grin.

He hesitates and goes to zip it back up, shaking his head back and forth. You reach out and grab his wrist.

"Inumaki, just smile."

He lets out a deep breath and gives you a small smile. He hears as the shutter clicks and once you drop your phone down he zips his uniform back up all the way.

"Look! So cutie!" You shove the phone in his face and he blushes at the absurdity of it all. You hadn't even been here a full 24 hours and you were already making yourself an important part of his life.

"L/n? Is that you?" You look across the field to see Kugisaki and the other two first year boys.

"Hey! Kugisaki! It's meeeee!," You giggle a bit and look back over to the older boy. "Well, I guess that's my cue!" You stand up and put a hand out for him. He grabs it and you dramatically grunt as you pull him up, though you didn't do much. He bows slightly to you as you excuse yourself.

"Ill text you later!" You wave and smile at him over your shoulder before you run off towards your fellow classmates.

"Why were you with Inumaki?" Yuji questions as you approach the group.

"I want to learn how to effectively communicate with him!" You make a show of standing up extra straight and pointing your finger up in the air, with closed eyes and a posh accent.

"Mhm, sureeee, that's it." You, Yuji, and Kugisaki quickly turn your head towards the dark haired boy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kugisaki questions.

"I don't know." He shrugs and turns around, walking away.

"Hey! Wait!" You now begin to chase after him, the other two closely following.

He turns around for a brief moment before quickening his pace, until he was in a full sprint to get away from the three of you.

"Get away from me!" He shouts, still running, trying to escape but its to no avail. Yuji lunges out effectively tackling him. He falls with a groan.

You now stand over them and extend your hand out to Megumi. He takes it and pulls himself up, glaring over at the other boy. He goes to take his hand away but you grip it tighter.

"Nuh-uh, tell me what you meant."

He tugs once more but sighs and rolls his eyes before giving in.

"You definitely think he's cute." your face grows hot at his words.

"What?! I do not!" You pout, but now he has you thinking about it. He is in fact cute.

"Mhm, sureee. I totally believe that."

"Okay!," You drop your voice low and lean up to his ear. "He's kind of cute!"

Megumi pulls away and just chuckles at you.

"What did you just tell him?" Yuji whines out.

"Nothing!" You reply, voice sweet with a closed eyed smile to pair with it.

"Liar!" He says.

You just giggle and stick your tongue out at him, hiding behind the tall dark haired boy. Yuji goes to lunge out for you but you shriek and duck farther behind Megumi.

Yuji tries to go around but you run around the other side, effectively getting a head start to run away from him. He's quick to follow.

The other two watch as you both disappear around a corner.

"So, what did she tell you."

Megumi turns to look over at the short haired girl who's now standing next to him.

"She totally thinks Inumaki is cute."

"Knew it."

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 1: Special.

Series Masterlist

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - You and Joel finally sit down together after a year of stolen glances.

A/N: OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE WRITTEN A FIC I MISSED IT SM. Let’s all collectively pray that I actually finish this series, btw. It kind of just came to me earlier today and I barely have anything planned but.. you know me by now.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol, light language, (kind of) fluff, nothing much really in this chapter

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Come on man. We’ve been here for almost two years and you still haven’t made any friends. I see how you look at her- just say something! It is actual torture having to watch you dance around people like this.” Ellie groans dramatically, trying to kick some sense into the man who sits across from her. Joel just grunts, continuing to eat his stew as she looks blankly at him. “She’s nice enough.” She adds after a moment, trying to get him to say something.

After more silence, she speaks again with an exaggerated sigh, “I guess I’ll just go talk to her then, tell her that my old man has a big, fat crush on her. Maybe then you two can-” her smirk falters when Joel interrupts her.

“Don’t you dare go doin’ that,” he grumbles “Y’ gon’ make me look stupid-”

“So you talk to her then! Stop moping around all the time.” Ellie concludes, before standing up and saying goodbye, going to clear her tray and giving him a look before leaving the mess hall.

Joel watches her go before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. First, Tommy was on his ass about making some friends - “You’re scarin’ people, y’know. Givin’ everyone death stares when you walk around, being so.. withdrawn all the time. It’d do ya some good,” he’d told Joel one evening at the Tipsy Bison - and now Ellie was too. And, knowing Ellie, that kid wouldn’t be as patient, probably already concocting some sort of plan to force you and Joel together.

As he leans his head back and mulls over his options, he looks out the window. Of course you’re out there, playing with the kids of Jackson. You’re one of the most popular people in Jackson, always being friendly and knowing just about everyone.

..Except him, of course. You’ve had some small chats with him, but you never really see him. He sees you though, having been.. observing you for the past year, keeping his distance - being respectful, in his eyes, being a wuss, in Ellie’s - and he knows enough about you to know that he probably has no chance with you.

You’re funny, sweet, fucking stunning, and he’s seen multiple guys try to approach you at the bar. Younger, more attractive guys. Mainly, you help teach kids things like art and music at the Jackson school, and you also do patrols a few times a week. On some nights you also sing at the Tipsy Bison when there are events and dances. The band will play, often with you as the lead singer. He always makes sure he’s there when you are.

The first time he saw you was on one of his very first nights in the Tipsy Bison. Tommy had dragged him along, Ellie going too, with promise of a fun night.

He came mainly to keep an eye on Ellie and to get some alcohol in his system, not expecting anything ‘fun’ to happen. Boy, was he wrong.

It had been around half an hour of him nursing his whiskey in the corner of the room when you came onto stage, million-dollar smile on your face as you spoke into the microphone.

“Good evening, Jackson!” You began, already getting a loud cheer from the crowd of people there that night. “It’s great to be singin’ for you again, you know I missed ya! Now, tonight, we got a few songs lined up, but this first one is a special request from Mister Tommy Miller over there!” You had said, pointing over to Tommy who was sitting with Joel, the younger brother grinning widely at you.

The band started and you began to sing one of Joel’s favourite songs from before the outbreak - somehow, it sounded even better in your voice. Joel glared at Tommy when he realised what he had done, and Tommy just shrugged before looking back at you. He couldn’t stay mad at him though, because by the end of it he was entranced by the sweet melody of your voice and how gorgeous you looked singing your heart out under the lights.

You were beaming at the audience after finishing as they showered you with applause, though it took Joel a second to actually start clapping and stop staring at you.

He tried denying it, but, as cheesy as it sounds, it was love at first sight for him.

It scared him, definitely. It had barely been a year since he lost Tess, and although he wouldn’t go as far as saying they were in love, it was the closest thing he’d had to it in decades. To think he even liked you from just hearing you sing one song.. that fucking terrified him.

Which is why he kept his distance for so long. He didn’t know what to do with himself when he realised he actually liked you. He hadn’t had any sort of connection other than Ellie and Tommy in so long, and they were his family. You, though.. you were so different.

He sighed deeply before opening his eyes again, finishing his meal as he watched you smile and laugh in the snow through the window.

A week later, Tommy manages to convince Joel to come to the Tipsy Bison again, promising ‘no funny business’ to go on. Joel isn’t sure he’d really mind.

Time goes by quietly, a simple Monday afternoon not having much going on for them, but then you turn up. He sees you as soon as you walk through the doors, an unfamiliar tiredness in your eyes. It looks like you’ve been on a long patrol.

You look around before noticing Tommy and Joel, walking over with a small smile.

Joel stares daggers at Tommy. “You said no funny business,” he grits, a strange panic flooding his system. Did he brush his hair this morning? Do his clothes look tidy? Did he have anything in his teeth?

“Ain’t no funny business here, brother.” Tommy grins at him, not giving him a chance to reply as you get to their table.

“Hi Tommy!” You smile, hugging him before turning to Joel. “And Joel! It’s so great to see you!”

Joel blinks at you. Fuck, you’re talking to him. He needs to say something back.

“Yeah, you too.” He mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly.

If you pick up on his discomfort, you don’t mention it, looking around before continuing.

“Are y’all stayin’?” You ask, now leaning forward a little with your palms on the table.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Tommy replies, to which you nod. “Y’ wouldn’t mind if I sit with ya, then?” You ask.

“Not at all, darlin’.” He says, and you slide into the booth with them, starting up a conversation about what you did today, mentioning that draining patrol you just got back from.

“I’m tellin’ ya - morning patrols are like hell on earth, Tommy. ‘S not fair to be makin’ us go out at 6 am.” You groan, to which he smiles. “Nothin’ a little coffee can’t fix.” Tommy replies, which makes you perk up.

“You have coffee? Since when?” You gasp, wide-eyed at him.

“New trade opened, and since Joel here is such an addict, we got our hands on some.” He gestures to Joel, and you look over at him, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I see.. being Tommy’s brother has its perks then? Got you hoarding all the coffee for yourself?” You tease, to which Joel chuckles quietly at, sitting up a little taller.

“Not hoardin’. Nobody else has asked for any.” He tells you, looking into your eyes and trying not to get lost in them for too long.

“And if I wanted some?” You say, tilting your head sideways slightly as it rests on your palm.

“Y’ always welcome to come get some, sweetheart.” He isn’t sure what possessed him to use the pet name with you, but he’s very thankful for it as a soft crimson paints your cheeks and you bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. “Well, thank you.” You reply, before a man comes over to get you your drink. “Whiskey, neat please.” You tell him and he goes off to get it. Joel is pleasantly surprised by your choice. He never really thought about what you might order from the bar, but the fact that you shared the same drink of choice made you even more attractive in his eyes.

2 hours later, Tommy had gone off to handle an issue with the council and you and Joel had been talking and drinking and laughing. It’s around 3 now and he barely realises in time for his afternoon patrol, finishing off his whiskey before telling you, noticing the slight sadness that appears on your face at him having to go.

“Oh! Alright then. I’ll see you around. Have a good patrol, Joel.” You smile at him, and he offers you a small smile back.

“See ya ‘round.” He says before leaving and going back to the stables.

Later that evening, Ellie somehow figures out what went down earlier at the bar (Joel’s already planning on giving Tommy a talking to tomorrow) and makes fun of him endlessly for it, saying that he was apparently so shy when he was talking with you.

“I’d have never thought that someone could make the big, bad Joel all nervous and flustered, but she just continues to prove me wrong. She’s definitely special, huh.” Ellie grins, before bidding Joel goodnight and leaving him with his thoughts.

He hated to admit it, but Ellie was right in saying that. You were special.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

Next Chapter

[cigarettessmokeandberries]

Fixer Upper (Melissa Schemmenti x reader)

Great, the coffee machine broke. It's burned Melissa's hand and ruined the day for most teachers- wait, it burned Melissa's hand. Y/n won't let that pass.

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It started with the broken coffee pot. Melissa had burnt her hand on the coffee pot on Friday morning and Mr. Johnson had placed a yellow caution tape ‘X’ over the whole machine by that afternoon. Melissa and Barbara were on their way out of the school, heading down the stairs from the breakroom, when they were joined by the semi-new addition to the school thanks to Ava’s budgeting: the school office manager. Ava had hired her after the printer incident claiming it was necessary to keep the budget ‘budgeting’ and her online presence active. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Melissa had grown a quite fond of the younger woman.

Both of the older women nod in greeting as they continue their conversation.

“I hate to say it, but I guess” Melissa hesitates slightly before sighing “I missed Janine a little.” Melissa finishes her sentence in a whisper before turning toward the younger woman, “I never said that, capisce?”

Y/N raises her hands in mock offense before smiling slightly “Never heard a word,” she promises as she lightly bumps Melissa’s shoulder with her own. The red head smirks before meeting Barbara’s knowing eyes wipes it clean.

“What’s got you not missing Janine? Jacob not offer enough entertainment today?” Y/n questions, unaware of Barbara’s revelations.

Melissa lifts up her wrapped right hand palm up before answering, “Abbot’s state of the art coffee pot’s leaking’,” Y/N had noticed Mr. Johnsons handy work in the break room but never stopped to question it: Abbot was falling apart in some, most, places.

“We wouldn’t have asked, but we know Janine would have tried to at least eliminate some of the hazard.” Barbara added as she pushes open the door and passes the weight to Melissa, who holds it open for Y/N, as the three women step outside into the early spring air.

“Creating’ a new problem along with it, no doubt,” Melissa adds playfully as she lets go of the door and joins the others on the steps.

“Maybe she’s not so much creating a problem but finding it…” Y/N slips into her defense. Janine had been the most welcoming towards her when she first started and helped her around here and there. Janine was open with her enthusiasm and handiness, even if sometimes it was not so handy, and that was admirable to Y/N. It was not surprise they became fast work buddies- Janine even sometimes stopping by Y/N’s desk outside of Ava’s office for lunch.

“Anyway, I forgot something on my desk. I’ll see ya Monday.” Y/N adds before turning back into the building. Melissa watches the door close behind her before turning towards Barbara.

“Was it something I said?” She jokes as the two make their way to their cars.

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Monday morning Melissa walks into the lounge to see Mr. Johnsons mess of police tape missing from the machine. Eyeing the machine, she sits in her usual seat awaiting Barbara. As she’s pulling out papers to look over, Ava waltzes into the room and towards the machine. Curious, Melissa doesn’t try to warn Ava of the possibly-broken machine.

“No warning? You know I need these hands Olay commercial perfect,” Ava turns towards the cameras before continuing “not that I use anything other than Cold-men products.” She winks before focusing back onto pouring her coffee.

Melissa deadpans the camera returning to her papers.

“No need, anyway. I never risk my hand health, Janine probably snuck her little rat-ass in over the weekend because its fixed.” Ava says as she begins to pour her temple of sugar into the bitter beverage, taking her leave.

Before Melissa could focus too much on it, Y/N enters the lounge followed by Janine. The red heads attention is quickly placed onto the younger woman as she takes her place next to Janine in front of the vending machine. The camera zooms into Melissa’s face before panning over to Y/N’s and back again only to be caught by the Italian herself and met with a stare.

“Welcome back, Kid. Hope your fingertips are still intact.” Melissa levels at Janine who meets her with raised eyebrows.

“Why would my-” Janine begins before an elbow to the side takes her attention. She turns her head towards Y/N and furrows her brows “did I miss something important again?” Both women stare at each other for a moment too long before Janine’s eyes widen.

“Y-yeah, of course my fingertips are fine, y’know because I didn’t burn them off while I was fussing with the coffee machine. That’s not to say I didn’t burn myself, I did of course because of the heat that was coming off the machine when I was fixing it, like I do. I love to fix things, hence why I, of course, fixed the over-heating coffee machine. We, teachers, love coffee, couldn’t imagine what the day-” Janine’s rambling is cut off again by an elbow to the side. She cringes a bit at herself when she sees Melissa frown and furrowed brows. Thankfully, Barbara enters the room and takes the attention off of the two younger women. And by some god sent miracle, the situation is not brought up again. After a, slightly concerned, ‘thank you’ nod from Melissa on her way out of the lounge.

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---

The next incident happens not many days later, when Melissa’s car pops a tire. As Jacob tries to defend his switch to green bubbles, Janine still taken aback there is a groupchat she is not privy to, Melissa angrily huffs before tossing Jacobs phone on the floor. The phone hits the floor and Y/N enters the lounge.

“Whoa, what’s that about?’ She hesitantly asks scanning the faces in the room. Melissa huffs again before turning toward Y/N.

“Thanks to Jacob’s stupid green bubbles, I hit a pothole on the way to work. Now my tires blown.” She glares at Jacob as she finishes her sentence. Jacob raises his hands, ready to defend himself and his new phone now securely in his pocket and safely away from Melissa. Thankfully time grants Jacob some mercy as the clock warns them its nearly time for school to start.

“Got to go, we’ll talk later-” Jacob chooses peace, rushing out of the room to his classroom.

A slight silence follows his departure before Y/N turns to face Melissa, “What was that about your car?” Y/n questions as she starts to follow Melissa as she grabs her things and starts heading out the door.

“My tires blown. Lucky it didn’t send me off the road.” Melissa huffs and as the woman walk in pace to her classroom.

“With peace and love, why were you even on your phone?” Y/n chuckles and can’t help but furrow her brows. Melissa lightly their shoulders with a sarcastic ‘haha’.

“Right, the lesson we SHOULD be taking from this is the cities poor budgeting.” Y/n jokes, shaking her head before waving Melissa goodbye to get to work herself. Besides who knows how to change a tire? Triple A or some shit was needed.

As Melissa entered her room smirking slightly at the conversation, the cameras pan down the hall just in time to see Y/n rush out the doors of the school

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---

Since Y/n couldn’t do much about the tire, she had to go with plan B. Thus, when Melissa walked out of school the following afternoon, she was surprised when she found a gift card to her favorite coffee shop taped to her doorhandle with a sticky note attached saying ‘ sorry :( - Jacob’. She shook her head lightly before getting in.

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A/N: hope you enjoyed!

[nameuserlee]

Rafayel — Intertidal Zone 🎨💜

💜- Screenshots -💜

💜 - Kindled scene below the cut + my thoughts/rambling -💜

.

.

.

This man wasted no time getting to point, love a man who has his priorities in check! His kindled feels a bit short compared to the others though, which we could’ve gotten a liiitle more.

Another thing I’ll point out is that the lighting in this kindled is probably the worst out of all 4 cards for darker skinned MC’s. I know that they’re trying to go for a sexy, dim lighting effect to set the mood, but I think we can get that effect without lowering the brightness that much.

This is just me messing around in Picsart for 5 minutes, and I can only turn up the brightness up so much before the colours start getting weird. All I’m saying is, I already know what I’m asking for in the next survey.

AND ACTUALLY IM NOT DONE COMPLAINING— Why did they “patch” the hair glitch for these cards (minus Sylus’.) I don’t really care for this hairstyle on my character and I specifically hate the default colour! If they used the darker black I’d be less frustrated, but instead we’re stuck with this colour that turns this odd gray shade in different lighting. Sigh.

Anyways. Back to Raf.

This interaction at the end was probably the highlight of the card for me, especially what MC tells him.

I’m discovering Rafayel and MC’s relationship the more I play/get more of his cards, I’ll admit I’m more of a Zayne/Sylus girlie myself, but I really enjoy their dynamic. Rafayel feels especially vulnerable here. His way of loving is intense, whether it’s about art or MC herself, almost to a detriment. It’s all encompassing, and can be overwhelming, seeing how it “burns” him.

“You’ll never have to burn for me.” A clear statement from MC. No more burning, this relationship will be fulfilling and nurturing for the both of them, and that’s a promise!

[wutheringmights]

A humble request for chapter commentary. At your leisure. Because wow. That was a chapter.

One of these days, I will realize that I should write the commentary as I write the chapter so that it does not take me so much time/effort to make it. Alas, I am convinced that one day people will not want to read my ramblings, and I refuse to do any work that is not absolutely necessary. 

As always, massive spoilers for the newest chapter below. Read at your own risk. 

So this chapter took a massive chunk of time to write, which was not my plan. Last chapter, I was all gung ho about cutting down on my production time and going back to as close to a monthly schedule as possible. That was November. It’s February now.

I really underestimated how busy the holiday season was going to make me. From Halloween up until post-New Years, I think I had two weekends where I didn’t need to shuttle off somewhere or someone wasn’t shuttling up to me. Not a lot of writing time. 

This could have been avoided if I didn’t stop writing mid-week. I’ve complained about this before, but in 2024 I stopped writing during the weekdays. I told myself that it was because I have zero time, but the real problem is that somewhere along the line, I told myself that if I didn’t have two hours to write, I couldn’t write at all. 

Well, I’m over that. I’m squeezing in at least 20 minutes a night as much as possible. I will not let myself make excuses anymore, especially because my mood drops when I’m not able to write for a while. 

I was also experiencing that classic “oh god why is my writing suddenly terrible?” panic, which I solved by forcing myself to slow down and stop trying to just the chapter. I wanted to actually take the time to make what I was writing good. Did this make the chapter take even longer? Yup, but I can’t regret it. 

So here we are. No promises this time as to when the next chapter will come out, but I’m still aiming for a near-monthly pace. Sadly, this might mean that I won’t have the time to write an extra side story this year for the CTB birthday in April (yeah, I gotta really plan this out in advance). I guess we’ll see how I’m feeling in a few more weeks. 

Now that’s out of the way, let’s talk this chapter. 

You can tell that I was having fun trying to figure out what it would be like to have someone else’s emotions messing around with your head. As Jakucho suggested, Link is already so bad at handling himself that having to put in the work for two is a lot for him.

The way breath is used to cope with Proxi’s emotions is inspired by the way breath is used in, like, every yoga video I use. 

I really hope that I’m properly portraying Link as “idiot white dude who is doing his best to be respectful of a culture he’s kinda fascinated by” and that it’s not the prose itself that is ostracizing the real world cultural practices that I’m putting under the Sheikah umbrella. Maybe the fact that I’m using a mismatch of things is already a bad sign. 

The same can be said of my vague descriptions of Kabuki theater. 

The play Link and Proxi see is inspired by two Shakespearen plays: A Merchant of Venice and The Twelfth Night. Merchant has a plotline where three suitors have to undergo a trial to prove their worth to a wealthy heiress, while Twelfth Night has the misadventures of the servants and the skeevy servant rising above his station to marry his mistress.

That later is meant to be a little world building nod to how deeply entrenched the class system is in Hyrule where the idea of a peasant trying to enter the upper classes is discouraged to outright mocked in classical art. If this play was real, the skeevy servant would be one of those comically disgusting characters the audience is meant to laugh at, like Malvolio from The Twelfth Night. 

And of course, the foreign prince would traditionally be a Ganondorf caricature built on harmful Gerudo prejudice-- something akin to Shylock, to keep the Merchant of Venice allusion going. 

Mostly, I imagine that the princess, hero, and Gerudo king are a set of narrative archetypes that appear over and over again in Hylian storytelling, for better or for worse. 

This was a very long worldbuilding exploration for what essentially was an excuse to talk a bit about how the line of succession works in Hyrule, because I realized when I was writing about the role of women that I never actually explained this.

Side note: I have been so fascinated lately by the ways stories establish the presence of a patriarchy in their worlds. Legend of the Galactic Heroes has one of my favorites: using the way characters talk about Annerose as a litmus test. I will now refrain from elaborating on that because we are not here to talk about animes from the 1980s I am obsessed with. 

The secret Sheikah techniques being Judo is 100% because I do Judo and I need to justify spending so much time at practice somehow.

The throw Ayane does is meant to be o-goshi-- one of the beginner throws that is excellent for a short person like Ayane to use on a bigger opponent. Because her hips would be lower than his, he would be pretty easy to tip over them. 

Because o-goshi involves being flipped over your head, it’s kinda a scary way to be thrown in the beginning. Genuinely, poor Link for being thrown like that when he had just learned how to fall (here’s a demonstration of the side fall he would have learned, though he would have started from a squat as opposed to standing at full height).

All that’s to say that: do not throw someone who is not ready to be thrown.

Arlo, a character you may remember from that time everyone ran across a battlefield, was almost included among the gaggle of soldiers trying to navigate across Kakariko. The reason why has everything to do with Icarius. 

For the sake of Icarius development, he assumed a role on the narrative of an unnamed, unremarkable soldier Link was going to have a short rendez-vous with. While that unnamed soldier was never going to be Arlo, I had toyed around with having Arlo be present as the soldier’s disgruntled roommate who got kicked out of the hotel room for the sake of the tryst. 

It’s not plot-vital for Arlo to have met Link earlier in the story; in fact it would be kinda silly if Link kept on running into the same few people over and over again. But I have an impulse to try to use every character, even the more minor and impulsive creations, to the max.

I imagine the Teachings of Din as a cross between a socratic dialogue and the Art of War (though I’ve never read the latter), which is why it’s framed as a conversation between a knight and Din. 

I also remember someone once telling me that old military strategy books like the Art of War has a lot of text dedicated to telling the upper class dudes reading it to treat their peasant armies fairly. I have no idea how true that is, but that factoid always stuck in my brain. I guess I’ll just hope that it’s true. 

I like the idea that if you were to look just at the book, it would seem like Link’s past actions would have been completely rejected by the military as being too horrific. But in practice, despite everyone above him having read the book, no one thought what he did was out of pocket. 

Link and Proxi’s conversation at the table was first referenced during the Fever Dreams in chapter 18. In that version of the scene, Link immediately confesses to Proxi what he did. Back in (checks date) 2022, that was my vision for their relationship. Finally writing it now, it was obvious Link was not ready so I pushed it off for him. That means that I retroactively made that moment in the Fever Dreams go from being a real memory to an idealized version of his past. I think it works, since one of his biggest regrets is his inability to truly confront his past quick enough.

There is also an early reference all the way back in chapter 9, when the Chain first passes through the refugee camp, that Link had helped built some of the homes there. 

Link is someone who doesn’t quite understand who he is and what he wants from life, primarily because he has spent his whole life up until this point trying to be what others wanted. The way he clings to construction work has less to do with his actual enjoyment of it and more with him actually being given a choice in what he does with himself. If he didn’t have an ongoing identity crisis, I don’t think he would gravitate to it at all. After a few months, he would be sick of it and move on to something else, just like a child cycles through different after school sports and activities until they find their passions. It’s a part of growing up he’s never had access to before. 

In a weird way, post-engineer Link’s story is some sort of coming of age story, which makes it a bit less compelling for me to write than literally anything that happened before it. But it’s important. I knew when I started this story that this latter part of the story was going to have a heavier emphasis on growth and healing; still, I really do miss getting to write Link being a horrible person and emotionally spiraling

If I really wanted to go for the dramatics, I would have Link turn the corner on his growth by having him argue with Proxi, or just be dragged into being a better person kicking and screaming. But that wouldn’t feel as sincere as him deciding for himself to be better.

And that’s the tragedy of it, isn’t it? Link decided to be a better person early on, but that desire didn’t get him far enough. Being better than he was isn’t the same as being the best version of himself. Who gets to decide when he’s fully improved anyway?

Ending with Link marching up the next half of the hill was a very heavy handed visual, as well as the reference to spring arriving soon. Connecting winter to depression and spring to happiness is so, so trite and I kinda stumbled into it by accident. But as cliche as it is, I love doing it. There really is something satisfying using old tropes and discovering why they became cliches in the first place. 

Onto the present--

Fun fucking fact: I thought this chapter was going to be super short. Why? All my outline said was that I needed to a) do the Knights of Hyrule shit and, b) Kill Lincoln. I usually have to juggle twenty different plot points. I only had two, and it still spiraled out of my control!

Part of that is just that there were things I forgot would take time to explore, like how Warriors would win the Triforce back (which I will get to later), and the other times there just was a lot of plot machinations I needed to do to get to the important stuff. 

And that’s been a theme with this last third of the story. Chapters 28, 29, 30, and 31 were all supposed to be a single chapter. Warriors and Spirit were going to have their Hot Mess, and the next chapter Lincoln was going to be dead in Castle Town. I just completely, severely underestimated how much plot machinations would be needed to get from A to B.

The Hot Mess all the way to now is about a year of my life. It took be a fucking year to cover one whole point on my story outline. Do you understand why I have been so frustrated about how long this story is taking me? Why I have been pulling my hair out? Does that put any of my feelings into perspective for you?

There was a lot of hubris involved. I think I have everything paced much more reasonably now that I shouldn’t need to add more than one or two, if any at all, extra chapters. 

In massive hindsight, I should have realized that the plot to take control of Castle Town would be more than just a chapter. But I also think I was in denial about how much longer this story was going to be. 

Ugh. 

Anyway, the actual chapter. I should talk about that. 

I am very amused by the idea that Endicott, for all of his faults, is the first person in the Royal Guard to truly take Warriors seriously. Warriors tells him about the black blood, and he not only believes him but is actually helpful. Kudos to you, Endicott. You’re not such a bad guy after all. 

Endicott also had the lovely function of being a good tool for reminding the readers of some lore that they might have forgotten in the long stretch of story since we last dealt with the black blood stuff. I always prefer to have diegetic exposition over textbook narration. 

Which then carried over to Warriors’s briefing while everyone else armored-up. Whenever I have Warriors make a grand plan like that, I always worry that there’s a glaring plot hole that I don’t see myself but a smarter reader would be frustrated by.

There is an extremely stupid bit in this chapter where Spirit puts his foot on the chaise in order to intimidate Warriors into agreeing with him, which Sky sees and copies because, hey, if it worked for Spirit it might work for him. Which Linkle mimics when she tries to convince Warriors to take her side. I tried to have Warriors snap at everyone to stop putting their feet on his chair, but I couldn’t make it work with the pacing. 

Also, shout out to Icarius who has decided that Linkle is his enemy for shooting him in the leg and tries to hurt her with his words. Aka, the dictionary he uses to communicate. 

I also enjoy that despite seeming like it would be the reverse, Warriors has turned into the doting older brother for Linkle while Spirit is the one who calls her a little shit. I wanted to subvert the expectations readers would have for their dynamic when first learning about how Linkle views both of them as her brothers.

I almost cut Time and Lincoln’s truce because I thought I was painting too big of a target on Lincoln’s back. But I kept it so that Time could have a moment of growth, and because I already shouted that Lincoln was on the chopping block by him making plans with Warriors for the future at the end of the last chapter. 

I also enjoy Lincoln’s chapter-long thread of being utterly terrified of the black blood and still deciding to get involved anyways. It’s a quiet demonstration of his courage, and a bit of tragic foreshadowing (more on that later). 

Spirit being snippy with Wild about sharing the horse is such a silly thing to use valuable page-space for, but I also knew that I could not state that they would share a horse without explaining how they got there.

Way later in the chapter, Lincoln asked Spirit why he never said anything about Rudeo not being under the black blood’s curse. But he did here before the scene with Remarque: “There’s a couple of dark spirits. Maybe three.” 

Was he being super clear? No. If Warriors was any less stressed, he might have picked out the discrepancy. But as is, Spirit technically did say something. 

One thing about this chapter is that we go in reverse of the Castle Town plot. We started at the Temple of Time with the wiseman Sevas, went to Colonel Remarque’s post at the wall, then ended in the castle with Endicott. And this chapter takes us in reverse. It looks like I did this on purpose, but as you can probably guess by the one year to cover one plot point debacle, I Did Not.

In the context of my long term plan for Spirit, giving him a moment to pure heroism now-- publicly renouncing his story to save Warriors --is just... he has a lot going on, and a lot of his previous moments of heroism haven’t been kind. This is truly his moment of selflessness, and it really is coming at the perfect time.

In terms of sillier moments in this chapter, I really like how much Warriors enjoyed making the soldiers squirm when they realized they were going to have to figure out how to handcuff a man with only one hand. 

In meeting up with the Knights of Hyrule for the first time in actual years, I really wished a gave all of them more to say and do before the fight. Gaudin and Shigeo had plenty to talk about, but Faiza and Rudeo were kinda pushed to the side.

That being said, I had a lot of fun giving Lincoln a chance to confront Gaudin; it’s been a while since we’ve seen him with peak “I am someone you should not mess with” energy, even if it didn’t lead him far 

In a political view, Lincoln is interesting in that he’s not particularly charismatic or likeable but he doesn’t need to be when his power is very secure; which is meant to contrast how Warriors has spent his entire career being likable in order to have a modicum of power

Sky was an interesting factor in this chapter in that he has this entirely separate grudge against the knights that is independent from what Lincoln and Warriors want; I had to make a decision as to how much closure if any I can give Sky

I landed on having Sky be at the head of the charge, particularly in terms of fighting Gaudin, but never giving him a real chance for revenge-- mostly because as angry as I think Sky is, his heroism streak is stronger than the average person. I don’t think he would allow himself the catharsis of revenge. He’s a master of repression, so give him a few years to realize he can’t ignore or repress his feelings about this.

I am really happy that I squeezed in a conversation with Shigeo, if only to better illustrate how much the black blood’s curse works with a person’s existing mind.

That being said, I think the effect would have been way stronger if I had featured Shigeo more prominently in the past like I had intended. Shigeo was meant to be the closest thing Warriors would have had to a friend or ally during his time in the war-- like an older brother figure. The relationship would have fallen apart when Warriors/Link started projecting his insecurities on Shigeo and perceiving anything he did to help as an underhanded attack. I cut this when I realized that Link’s downward spiral would be easier to sell if he was already extremely isolated emotionally without anyone but the engineer to rely on.

The protest outside the Temple of Time-- I had a good time writing that in that it was a little hard to nail. I wanted the protest to be motivated by anger, but I didn’t want to portray it as an act of violence in itself. I didn’t want the story to inadvertently paint protestors as aggressive, even if what they’re protesting is our hero. 

I actually waited until the last minute to figure out their chants since I wanted them to be an emotional punch in the gut to Warriors without being too mean? My problem is that when I wrote the Turncoat Revolt, I was a little peeved that a lot of readers viewed the turncoats as evil because they tried to kill Link, the engineer, and the child despite the fact that politically speaking, the turncoats were right. Yes, you can like these characters but they are on the side of the government that’s ruining people’s lives. 

Then I got over myself and remembered that I can’t really control what conclusions the reader draws from the story. So I kept the chants on the more viscous side.

This was a strangely hard battle to write. I usually can pop off a fight scene really quickly, but this one really gave me trouble. It took me way too long to string together what exactly I wanted each person in the fight to be doing and how to jump the narration from each pocket of the fight.

A lot of readers noted that it comes off much more like a in-game boss fight than any other fight scene in this story so far; I can’t say that was intentional, but it is convenient in emphasizing how out of a normal person’s wheelhouse the black blood is. 

My favorite moments include Spirit tossed Sky his sword; once more, Spirit prioritizing getting the job done right over any petty grievance. A true MVP of this goddamn chapter. 

Rudeo’s death... first, the Chekov’s gun of this story is establishing in Rudeo’s introduction scene that he will die if the sword in his neck is removed. Like, of course this guy is going to die by having the sword in his neck removed. 

As I explored in the narration, Rudeo was meant to be another reflection of Warriors in terms of his struggles to maintain a footing in an oppressive power structure leading him to make bad political decisions. I wanted the irony of Warriors being unable or unwilling to realize that there was someone else in the same position as him. I needed Rudeo to linger in the background for this to have the thematic effect I wanted.

Nonetheless, I really wish I did more with Rudeo before this moment. Yes, he needed to be in the peripheral of Warriors’s life, but couldn’t I have thrown in one conversation before this about what he was feeling?

I was expecting at least one person to realize that Rudeo couldn’t have been infected since he didn’t eat meat, but no one did. I didn’t have any characters bring it up in-story because I thought it was an obvious plot hole but I guess I should have gone ahead and added it in anyway.

Okay, let’s talk the Triforce scene. Ooooh boy. 

This was not in the original plan. I just wanted Warriors to get the Triforce of Courage back, and then move on with the story. But when I was writing that earlier scene where Lana talked to Shigeo, I suddenly remembered how significant the Triforce was and realized that I needed to make the moment Warriors got it back way, way bigger.

I fully believe that no matter how much or how little Legend of Zelda lore you know, there will always be one tidbit that is so bizarre that it boggles your mind whenever you remember it. Mine is the fact that the Triforce is sentient. 

I can’t get over it. The Triforce is sentient and it means absolutely nothing. It rarely comes up, even in regards to how the Triforce judges its holder’s character (not for goodness or what not, but whether you are wise/powerful/courageous enough). It’s so wacky. I hate it, but my god, it made the basis for a really cool scene. 

I love his conversation with the Triforce. I haven’t gotten to write a scene where reality is weird for a really long time. 

The way the green woman couldn’t be looked at, messed with his memories, and put palpable “walls” around his mind and emotions-- it reminded me a lot of eldritch horror, but in the sense of a being from the 3rd dimension being pushed into the 4th or 5th. I like the idea that the Triforce’s realm had to be simplified for him to comprehend it.

Warriors being Farore’s tool is my favorite idea from this scene. It not only adds context to some of Zelda’s struggle with Nayru, but it upsets Warriors’s worldview. He is special, but he’s not loved. This is a man who wants to be appreciated and loved deeply, but even with Farore, he’s been denied that. But at the same time, he should be thankful that he has the freedom that comes with only being the goddesses’ tool. 

Warriors’s declaration that he was going to become a better person no matter what put into words a theme I have been exploring throughout the story: what makes someone an idealized good person is not always realistic. And if it’s not realistic, how do we determine if someone is good or bad?

Plus, if heroes aren’t chosen because they’re morally good people, then what actually makes you a good hero? How do you define heroism when the gods themselves do not view it as a question of goodness?

In a related note, I also got a chance to acknowledge that Warriors being forcefully denied the “ability” to hurt someone isn’t character developement. It’s an excuse, and he still has to consciously decide to change his behavior. 

So after I went through the whole emotional process of realizing that I have to hype up the Triforce way more, I then realized that I had to make a decision about what to do with Dark Link (because the black blood in the original LU comic is obviously him and I will not pretend otherwise). 

My original policy was to not do anything with Dark Link. I wasn’t here to solve LU. I’m here to solve CTB. The black blood has been here as an excuse to propel the characters into the plot I actually want to solve. AKA: the war.

But I also realized that at this point, it would be weirder if I didn’t try to address what is going on with the black blood, especially if it’s been a subplot this entire story and is going to be the reason Lincoln dies. I could have left it alone. This is fanfiction, after all. You could go to the source material to find out about it. But... leaving it alone would have kept CTB very dependent on LU, which means that CTB will continue to fall apart as LU gets more specific with its lore. If I wanted CTB to stand on its own, I needed to provide my own explanation. 

So now I was on the hook to try to explain the black blood, which would mean I would have to provide a Dark Link backstory. 

He couldn’t be unrepentantly evil since that would go against the themes I’ve already established in CTB. But he still needed to have justification to, you know, possess people. And whatever backstory I come up with will have to be conveyed in the shortest amount of time and space possible.

I know I over thought this, and no one would actually care if I did this well or not. But now I cared, so I had to do this right. Luckily, Dark Link seems to care only about the heroes and not any other part of the lore, which provided a good set of parameters to work with

So I landed on him more or else being what remains of the First Hero after he’s reincarnated. Not only does this give him a very solid motivation to go against the heroes (just wants to have the other half of his soul back), but this explains an existing discrepancy in the lore: how could Time’s soul linger on as a living skeleton while the Hero’s Spirit was with Twilight. If the Hero’s Spirit was one half of a whole, where there would be something not reincarnated into the next hero, it could be possible.

I could also make Dark Link more morally gray by establishing that he was never just the dark parts of the First Hero’s spirit, but whatever parts of the hero Hylia didn’t like. 

Actually, this is a bit of storytelling I am very proud of. As we know, the official-to-fanon lore is that there was a romance between Hylia and the First Hero. In my version, whatever romance they had was bordering on the unrequited. Whatever feelings the First Hero had for Hylia could not triumph over the fact he was already married. Even if it wasn’t a love-match, he was so chivalric that he would not betray his legal wife. So when he was reincarnated, Hylia left that part of him behind. 

Side note: I have been listening to a lot of Noble Blood for months now, and I have a growing fascination with marriages based on politics that are affectionate, as opposed to love matches. I have been kicking around a lot of non-CTB story ideas that play around with marrying for any reason except romance, and it turning out perfectly.

I also just like how it’s a play on Arthurian legends, where chivalry, romance, and marriage seems at constant conflict with itself. This time, the knight chooses to remain loyal to his wife instead of the otherworldly beauty in pursuit of him.

And for the First Hero to have this torrid romantic affair while looking average at best? I love it. 

I had Warriors not believe Dark Link’s story because I wanted to leave the door open for a later reader to insert whatever LU’s actual answer for Dark Link is. Officially, Dark Link in CTB is lying if you want him to be.

And finally, beheading him was such a good place to circle back to the whole Orlanda thing. Her death was this surprising moment where I feel like a lot of readers realized things were not okay (somehow?), and so I have been looking for a way to use it as a bookend for Warriors’s growth.

Did I want to do so much with Dark Link? No, and please do not expect any of this to be super relevant for this last half of the story. Everything here was an obligation.

Unfortunately, I also think all of this was interesting as hell and doing a full backstory will be added to the list of CTB spin offs I do not have time to write. 

Also! One last note about the Dark Link scene I almost forgot about. There is an implication that Twilight's soul lingered behind like Time's did. That is because I headcanon Twilight being this ghost wolf that haunts the desert looking for shards of the Twilight Mirror (I think I wrote a drabble about it years ago). And that's how Wolfie managed to be in Breath of the Wild.

Now that all that’s out of the way, let’s get to the real meat of this chapter, which is killing off Lincoln. Yay.

Before I hop into what happens on page, there is a really fun bit of foreshadowing earlier in the story I want to point out. In chapter 19, the Chain minus Twilight, Legend, and Wind are at the Temple of Souls when Lincoln tells Lana about his plans to save the knights. And she provides this warning: 

“You’re just a mortal man,” she said at last. “Careful not to trifle with what you cannot understand, Master Knight.”

This is, coincidentally, the first chapter to contain a character death warning, albeit for Clementine. But yeah, I mostly just wanted to point that out because it’s the first in-story suggestion that this subplot is going to spell his doom. 

What kinda screwed Lincoln in the end was him jumping in to fight Gaudin and help Warriors when he knew he shouldn’t have. As Lana said, he trifled with what he did not understand. 

I didn’t invent Lincoln to die, but as I was first drafting the plot back in 2021, I knew that I should kill him off. As I always do, I explored what the story would look like if I kept him alive, and I actually came up with an alternate ending to CTB that I can’t discuss right now because it contains a spoiler to how I want CTB to end. 

So I knew from the beginning that he was meant to die, and I knew that I wanted to take the reader from hating him to liking him. This is why we meet him before chapter 5, which is the chapter that establishes how Link starts to fuck up the engineer. Link was a bit of an ass before that moment, but Lincoln’s dislike for him seems way more irrational. 

The dual-timeline structure also became really helpful here since Lincoln’s harshest moment with Link, when he was rescuing the engineer in chapter 22, comes afters Lincoln’s proved himself by rescuing Warriors and carrying him across Hyrule. The reader is primed to like him at the same time they’re prime to hate Warriors. 

To be fair, I think what made people like Lincoln the most was him being married to Ganondorf. If he had approval ratings, it would skyrocket. 

As much as I was bitching about taking four chapters to cover one plot point, it did come with time for me to push Lincoln and Warriors’s reconciliation, going from tentative allies to family. Which in turn, made his death all the rougher. 

Okay, back to the plot beats. 

As a lot of you guys pointed out, the first sign that something was wrong with Lincoln was that he let Linkle run off to fight the curse. The second sign, was him calling Warriors son. As mentioned in story, that is a verbal tic that has never applied to Warriors before. If Warriors ever thought something could be wrong with Lincoln, that could have cued him.

I had a lot of different ideas for how Spirit would be involved with Lincoln’s death.

One version of the reveal I really liked was Lincoln having gone off to scout the area, leaving Warriors behind. Spirit would sprint in, demanding where Lincoln was because his spirit had disappeared while a new dark spirit was walking around. In the middle of the conversation, without looking, Spirit would raise his gun and shoot something off to the side. Of course, this would be Lincoln who would have moved out of the way just in time to only be grazed.

Lincoln’s possession really revealed how little he trusted Spirit. If Lincoln had a better relationship with him, he probably would have less readily believed Spirit had betrayed him. 

Also, it is such a Spirit move to try to convince the curse to just leave Lincoln by promising to protect it from the others. As much as he wants to get the job done, the job went from “defeating the dark spirit” to “keeping Lincoln alive.” If he’s got to bend his morals a little to make that happen, then so be it. 

And there is something sad about how Spirit ultimately does like Lincoln enough to betray himself a little to save him, but Lincoln did not like Spirit enough to not be easily swayed into attacking him.

My original vision for the duel against Lincoln would have been Spirit and Warriors teaming up like they did on the battlefield in chapter 23-- Spirit with the sword and Warriors with the shield. The problem is that I gave Sky the Lokomo sword. 

I think Spirit is a great fighter, even if he had to be dragged into it kicking and screaming. I also think he relies heavily on being viscous over real technique. He could probably fight with an unfamiliar sword well enough normally, but he’s also really beaten up and weak at this point. There would be no way he could hold up against Lincoln no matter what I did.

So between that and the fact that Spirit and Warriors have already teamed up before, I decided to cut it. But now I’m starting to think I could have still included it but focused way more on Spirit getting his ass handed to him. 

It’s really hard to sell an original character as being better at something than the canonical characters to the reader, which has always made Lincoln’s skills as a duelist a little interesting to sell. It helps that he’s a guy since there’s way less of a knee jerk reaction to label him as a Mary Sue. Nonetheless, I really wish I did a bit more to show off that Lincoln is one of the best fighters in the story.

You know that line Lincoln dropped around Marigold? Don’t worry about it. We’ll get to that can of worms eventually haha

I could not stop crying when working on Lincoln’s death scene. From writing to editing, I could not stop crying. This is not an exaggeration. I have been pumped to kill this man off, and I still found it deeply trigger.

One reason is that a lot of this scene was based on the emotions I experienced when my mother died. That description of helplessly staring down the inevitability of death-- I know what that felt like, and I splattered that experience across the entire scene. 

I am also very close with dad, who is nowhere near young anymore (my parents had children later in life). Killing off Lincoln forced me to confront a lot of my fears about watching my dad die. When Warriors said that Lincoln couldn’t die because his mother was already dead-- the injustice that you will have to experience the grief and loneliness of losing your parents long before any of your friends ever will-- those are my feelings. 

I know I have cracked jokes about Lincoln dying, but this scene inevitably became something very personal for me. I wanted this to be devastating because the very thought of having to experience a parent’s death again is paralyzing for me. 

Every little moment of his death made me cry, but the biggest triggers were a) Hyrule saying “I’m sorry”, b) Linkle’s various pleading, c) Lincoln asking to wear his ring, and d) Lincoln admitting he’s scared.

The moment with the ring is my favorite. The small, quiet amazement when Lincoln realized that here, at the end of his life, he could wear his ring around his finger-- immediately crushing.

I was tempted to share the line “Can I Wear It” out of context as a “hahaha this is such a simple line but it’s gonna make you cry” post, but I decided to keep mum and not preemptively ruin my own moment.

I intended for one of Lincoln’s last lines to be an blunt realization on his part about where he went wrong as a father, but I cut it because even in death I don’t think Lincoln would be good at expressing himself. 

The line is kinda important for, you know, the themes and stuff (I am so sorry that I keep talking about themes), but I think I can squeeze it into the next chapter.

So Lincoln admitting he’s scared... okay, let me get on my soapbox for a moment. 

The older I get, the more I realize that everyone is terrified of dying. One day you are going to wake up and you are going to know someone who died very abruptly and far, far too soon. It will put a fear of death into you, and it will happen far sooner than you realize. 

By virtue of having older parents and straight up bad luck, I had already been to a lot of funerals before I hit my 20s. Whatever fear I had got worse not only after my mom’s death, but also the deaths of other people in my circle. I had a college professor who died of an aneurysm. She was only in her 30s.

Everyone I know is at least 2 handshakes away from someone who abruptly died. I have had lunch dates with friends where all we’ve done is exchanged stories of really sudden deaths we’ve heard about from other parts of our social circle.

And there’s this point where you this that surely you’re going to get used to this, and death will stop being terrifying once more. But because my parents were older when they had kids, all of the adults in my life are also much older than average. They’re in their late 60s and mid 70s now. You would think they would be more comfortable with death. 

But, no. They are also plainly scared of it. They have similar discussions around the dining room table about the people in their lives who have abruptly died, and the numbers rise every year. It scares them. 

I think we invented this trope of the wise mentor who embraces death as a way to cope. We want to believe that there will be a point where we too will be so intelligent and world-weary that we could accept death with open arms. I’m starting to realize that I am never going to be prepared for death. That is not a fault of my character. That is the natural response.

Nonetheless, it’s still distressing to look at your own father who is only getting older and realize that he’s distressed by the thought of dying. He wants to cling to the world, even when he says he doesn’t. You want him to face it with grace because it will make his eventual death easier on you. But death is never going to be easy. 

He’s not dead yet, but when he will, it’s going to hurt. And I just wanted to have a moment where Lincoln showed that fear of death because it felt real to life. Your loved ones will not go gently into the good night. They will rage, and it’s going to suck. 

One last note about Lincoln’s death-- this scene contains one of my favorite uses of the “he lied” tag:

Warriors swallowed. He took Lincoln’s hand. “It’s like going to sleep,” he lied.

I love experimenting with this tag and finding the most effective ways to use it. This one is my favorite. It says so much about how Warriors views his actions, and it refrains his lying as an act of kindness. I love it. 

Another really small moment I love is Lana kissing the back of Linkle’s head. I love that tiny moment of tenderness.

For killing off Lincoln, I knew it was going to be either Warriors, Spirit, or Linkle. 

For Warriors, it would be a monkey’s paw moment for the reader who probably wanted him to kick Lincoln’s ass back when we all agreed he was being a dick. 

For Spirit, it would have been another moment where he’s been forced to make another ugly, terrible choice because no one else will. Another moment of injustice. 

But Warriors and Spirit were beat out very early on in my plotting process by Linkle. 

I have tried writing my thoughts on Linkle multiple times, but I keep veering into a rant about the way people treat female characters that has absolutely nothing to do with Linkle. I’m going to try to stay on topic. 

Linkle’s thematic (so sorry to bring up themes again) purpose is to give Warriors an opportunity to break the cycle. This entire story is about how maybe that whole system where we allow children to save Hyrule and solve everyone’s problems was not a good idea, and maybe allowing that to happen has devastating consequences. Yes, there’s Warriors and his fucked up bullshit. But there’s also the lowering of the draft age, Kat’s underage prostitution, and so on. Maybe the whole system is broken.

So enter Linkle: she wants to be heroic and fight. She’s very upbeat about it, and there’s a comedic bent to how Lincoln can’t quite stop her from running off and doing whatever. 

My plan was for the reader to start out wanting to see Linkle be some kind of badass, only to slowly realize how badly that would go by virtue of learning more about Warriors’s past. 

I don’t think that was successful. I think the desire to see Linkle do cool things outweighed any other argument. I don’t know if that is my fault or not. 

On one hand, I think playing up Linkle’s desire to be heroic as comedic undermined the point I was trying to make. Plus, my desire to have Linkle involved in the plot meant that she had a lot of moments where she got to do very hero-esque things without consequence.

On the other hand... I don’t think I was subtle in establishing Linkle as both reckless and naive. Lincoln, Warriors, and the like all have moments where they outright explained to her (and the reader) why she needs to stay out of everything.

And most importantly, her pathologic need to be useful in order to earn love is a direct parallel to Time when he was a child. 

I thought I was being heavy handed, but I don’t know. I guess time will tell if I actually did any of this well or not. 

Warriors turned another really important corner in his growth in that he finally doesn’t fall back into his old patterns. Saving the kingdom, or even his political plans, are no longer worth the price of dragging another person into his mess like he did with the engineer and (to an extent) the Chain afterwards.

I almost named this part of the chapter “The Cycle Ends” because it’s such a significant moment for him. He’s clawing his way out, though it comes at the consequence of Linkle’s guilt. 

As explained in the narration, she doesn’t get the luxury of having a grand purpose. She did this and, unlike Warriors, she can’t explain it away. She’s kind of speedrunning Warriors’s arc of realizing that your actions are your own and no divine pact can excuse them away.

I feel like I should have more to say about this. Like a final parting note about this tragic turn in Linkle’s story. Maybe I will in a few days, but I have already been working on this commentary for a week now. I need to be done with this already. 

I don’t know. If you have any insight, let me know! You probably have more valuable to add to the conversation than the bozo who has been staring at these characters for too long. 

[0a5-the-glue]

Life Goes On

*picture from Pinterest*

Pairing : ot7 bts x fem!Reader

Synopsis : Y/n is dead, but she left something for all of her favorite boys to let them keep a piece of her while they grief.

Words : 1062

Warnings : Angst, mention of death.

A/n: I'm trying something new, feel free to say what you think! Sorry for any mistakes, english isn't my first language.

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Chapter 1 : Jungkook

"Hey bunny. I know you're probably mad at me right now and I completely understand if you do. But please know that it's not because I didn't trust you that I didn't say anything. I just wanted you to focus on your career. You worked too hard on it, I would have hated myself if I was the reason you had to give it up. Please don't be mad at Namjoon. He wanted to tell you all so badly, but I begged him not to. I knew you all wore your hearts on your sleeves, so it would have been a big mess of sadness. I did it because you made me feel normal for once. Everywhere I went, my friends or family would say to anyone that barely touched me that I was sick and they were bastards for even grazing my arm. You all made me feel like I was somebody. Not just a sick person. I was so happy with that lifestyle bunny. I promise I was! It was a wish come true these past five years.  I felt so happy that I was able to be your noona, the one that you could count on, be the rock for you. Be strong for my youngers. I wanted to leave you all something of mine. I know you like drawing, so I give you my art room. It’s all yours Kookie. Go there if you ever feel alone, or miss me. Nobody can go in it unless you tell them they can, ok? It’s your painting room now, take care of it. I’m so, so sorry for making you sad bunny, it was never in my intentions.  Please stay the same boy you were with me, don’t let anyone change you. Be who you want to be. Stay true to yourself. I love you so much bunny, don’t ever doubt it. Xxx, Y/n.”

Jungkook stares at the letter in his hands with tears in his eyes. His hands clutching the side of it, a desperate attempt to ground himself. A sad smile forms itself on his lips at your words, placing the paper down on his laps, hovering the words with his fingers. 

He stops in front of the room you’ve given him, staring at it, a lump in his throat. He places a trembling hand on the handle and opens the door.

He feels like his heart drops into his stomach when he gets in. It’s filled with painting and unfinished drawings. The paintings were all in bright colors, but one catches his eyes and a sob escapes his lips when he sees it.

It was all the boys, around a table, with huge smiles on their faces. It was the last dinner they had all together. 

Jungkook places your letter right beside that painting and kisses his pointer and middle finger before placing them against the paper. 

“Thanks for everything, Y/n...”

He looks around the room and sees all the small items they brought you from the tour they have been on, on shelves. He sits down on the chair next to your desk and looks through all your papers. His gaze fell on a calendar and he grabbed it, slowly going through the pages. 

He drops it on the table and leans back against the chair when he sees the last page you have written on.

“So many appointments..” He murmurs. 

The page was filled to the brim. Highlighter everywhere there was an appointment.

“Gosh noona, you went through all this and we couldn’t even help you..” He hangs his head low at the thought and clenches his hands. “Come back, please,” he sobs. “Fuck, please.” He takes in a shaky breath. “I need you here, can’t do it without you.” 

He fist his shirt where his heart is and lets out a loud cry of pain. He hears knocks on the door but ignores them, but when he hears the handle moving, he tenses. “Don’t get in!” He lets out. “Y/n said only me could go in it.” He sobs.

“Then come out Kook, please.” A deep voice answers. “I think we both need a hug right now…” Taehyung’s voice breaks at the end.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to get up when he hears his tone and gets out of the room. He looks up at his Hyung and breaks down. Taehyung is fast at bringing him to his chest, leaning his back against the wall. 

“Miss her..” 

“I miss her too kookie, so much…” 

Jungkook wraps his arms tightly around the boy’s waist and hides his face on his chest. Trying to catch his breath and stop crying. 

Taehyung notices his attempts and raises a hand to pat Jungkook’s head. “Cry it out, it’ll be less painful after, for a little while.” 

-6 months later-

Jungkook sits down beside your grave and smiles sadly. “Hey noona, been a while.” he whispers to himself. 

"I miss you, you know?" He mumbles. "I know it's dumb to speak when you clearly can't hear me, but it brings me peace. But I usually do it when I'm in the painting room, here it feels weird." He lets out a small laugh. "You know, Bam misses you too, he has been sleeping in your bed a lot these days, and so is Yeontan. You should see them in the morning, they're all cuddled. It's actually really cute." He smiles.

“I showed Taehyung the painting room yesterday. We were both sobbing, not a pretty sight.” He laughs.

Jungkook shifts to be in front of your grave and places a teddy bear on top of the stone. “Saw this yesterday, thought of you.” He smiles and runs his hand over the letters engraved on the stone. “We all miss you noona. But it’s getting easier day by day.” He hums, “I mean, it’s been six months, so it’s still a fresh wound, but we’re getting better!” He laughs a little. “I didn’t give up, like you asked. ARMY helped me with that.” He smiles at the thought. “At each concert, we had one minute of silence for you. They respect you and us so much noona, they’re the best.”

He hears his phone ring and sighs. “Got to go now, hope that you’re feeling better now.” He kisses his fingertips and places them on top of your gravestone.

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Next Chapter

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Thanks for reading!

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.6

My mother taught me that sometimes it rains. Sometimes it pours, and you’re soaked through and miserable and it feels like it may never stop. But no matter how heavily the rain falls, no matter how drenched you get, you are not the rain.

Some day you will be dry again.

Things have been easier since I blocked Paul, the pain slowly fading to a dull ache, barely noticeable as long as I don’t dig too deep. I try to keep myself distracted, reading Lucky Girl for what must be the fifth time. It’s my comfort read, Evie reminds me a little of myself. I think we could have been friends, hanging out and agreeing that being in love is the absolute worst, actually, while we yearn for our respective idiots.

The memory of Paul is not the only thing I’m trying to escape. With all my channels inactive, even the haters have gone quiet and my views are dropping every week. I’ve toyed with the idea of simply abandoning everything and starting a new brand, but I don’t want to rebuild my follower count from scratch. I don’t have time for it. My bills are starting to pile up, and while I can still pay them for now, it won’t be long before I have to either crawl back to mom and dad and ask for help, or get one of those real jobs people keep talking about. I’m not even sure which option I would hate the most, so I hide in my book for now.

A sharp knock on the door jerks me away from Evie admiring Jude in an art gallery and back to reality.

I hesitate for a moment. I have no idea who it could be, and I don’t want to see anyone, especially not some smarmy salesperson – or worse, my landlord. With a sigh, I put my book face down on the armrest and shuffle to the door.

Miranda is leaning casually against the doorway, her high heels making her look almost as tall as Samara. At their feet, a couple of large shopping bags are threatening to fall over and spill their contents on my doormat.

“See, Samara? I told you she was still alive.”

“So you did. Then I sure hope she has a very good excuse for refusing to see her best friends for almost two months!“

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ve just had a rough time since, you know. But I promise to call you, maybe we can make plans soon?”

“No need, we’re here now, so you won’t have to worry about that.” Samara’s smile is cheerful, but her tone is resolute. Even so, I try to object.

“Seriously, it’s not a good time, I haven’t even showered for like three days, and the place is a mess.”

“Girl, since when do we care about mess? We’re here because we love you – stinky or not.” She wrinkles her nose, making the freckles on her face dance.

“What is this, some sort of intervention?”

Miranda smirks. “Pretty much. Sorry, but someone’s gotta save you from yourself, and we’re not letting you waste any more time moping over a man who didn’t deserve you. We’ve got snacks and a box of rosé with your name on it, so you might as well get out of the way.”

“Fiiine, but no judging the absolute state of the place.” I roll my eyes and invite them in with a dramatic flourish of my arm, but I can’t help but smile. Samara bounces through the door despite the heavy shopping bags, and Miranda goes straight for my laptop.

“What’s your login?”

“It’s just my birthday, and before you come for me, yes, I know that’s bad.”

Miranda shakes her head as the laptop plays a jaunty tune and lets her in.

“You’ll get the full security lecture another day, right now it’s time to declare inbox bankruptcy. We’re getting rid of all this bullshit so you can get back to business.”

“Miranda, there are literally thousands of messages. It’ll take days to go through, maybe weeks.”

She doesn’t even look up, her perfectly manicured fingers a blur over the keyboard.

“Give me an hour. I’m going to delete anything that contains profanity, and then I’ll sort the rest into folders, so don’t worry, you won’t be losing anything permanently. But I’m going to mark everything as read and archive it so you can get a fresh start. If anyone wants something important from you, they’ll reach out again, trust me.”

I stop myself from protesting further. Miranda knows what she’s doing, and it really would be a relief not to worry about everything.

Behind me, Samara has stopped unpacking the groceries.

“Just let Miranda work her magic and get your smelly butt into a bath. And make it a nice one, soak for a bit and pretend you’re a mermaid or something. We’ll get everything set up in here while you scrub off the sadness.”

I feel a slight pang of embarrassment as I walk into the bathroom. The sunlight is creating little islands of warmth on the black tiles, but it also mercilessly illuminates the limescale in the shower and a couple of cotton swabs that missed the bin. The sink is decorated with a few dried clumps of toothpaste, each of them outlined in red from last time I dyed my hair.

How did I let it get this bad?

I turn on the taps and leave them running while I undress. Then, I lower myself awkwardly into the tub and let the water cascade through my fingers. It would be nice if it was this easy, washing away the sadness and frustration, the longing and the hurt.

The gentle sound of flowing water is mesmerising, and before I know it, the tub is full. I add a small handful of bath salts and swirl it around. A soothing scent of lavender rises with the steam.

When I lie down, the hot water envelops me like a hug. It feels like it’s thawing something in me that I didn’t even know was frozen. I close my eyes and listen to Samara and Miranda laughing about something. It’s almost like being home and hearing my parents talk softly in the other room. It always made me feel safe. Less alone.

As the water begins to cool, I scrub down, slowly, methodically, running soapy hands along every inch of my body. It feels good, like I’m massaging life back into my limbs. Tonight will be fun, I decide. We’re going to stuff our faces with junk food, get absolutely smashed on cheap wine, and pretend that my heart was never broken by some has-been actor from Tartosa.

I watch as the tub empties, imagining that all my sadness is flowing down the drain with the water and the tiny undissolved purple specks from the bath salt. Finally, I move to the shower to wash my hair and rinse off.

When I get out, I stop and examine myself in the mirror. I look a little tired and worn, like I’ve been sick. In a way, I guess I have. But the black tiles are radiating warmth under my feet and there are birds singing outside my window and I’m beginning to feel like everything is going to be fine.

Samara’s blue face glitters in the candlelight. The packaging from the masks we’ve applied is littered with adjectives like “rejuvenating” and “revitalising”, bold statements, but they do actually feel pretty good.

“Sorry, Julia, I know you love this crap, but I just can’t get over the cake tongue. Who decided cake would be the best bait for people? Are we really that obsessed with desserts?”

I look over my nails one last time and put down the file. “I’m actually more disturbed by the whole chin udder situation. I mean, who came up with that?”

Samara makes a disgusted face, but she’s not ready to change the subject. “Seriously though, even if you were absolutely starving and cake was your favourite thing in the whole world, would you really approach a plant shaped like a giant cow head with huge teeth? Really? And then try to grab what is obviously its tongue?”

Miranda giggles tipsily. “No, but can we talk about how Ned’s relationship with the cow plant is super toxic, though? I mean, it always starts out slow, right? Oh, so it eats meat, little bit of a red flag there, but it’s probably fine. And before you know it, you find yourself luring your neighbours to their deaths just to keep it happy.”

“Yeah, it’s classic, the way he keeps making excuses for her? She didn’t mean it, she’s just misunderstood! She only bites me because she loves me! I’m like, Ned, your girlfriend is eating people, you need professional help.”

Samara laughs. “I guess some men would literally rather feed their neighbours to a plant than go to therapy.”

My phone vibrates on the armrest behind me.

“Sorry, it’s Marten again, I better let him know I’ve got company. He’s been super busy with his exams so we haven’t had much time to play lately.”

Miranda raises an eyebrow.

“And he’s still fine just being your friend, is he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, he was fine being my friend even though I was dating Paul. Besides, I haven’t even seen him in person since GeekCon, it’s been almost a year…”

I stop. Almost a year since I met Paul. It feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder what would have happened if I’d cosplayed as someone else, or if Paul hadn’t been there that day. Maybe I could have been dating Marten instead of having my heart trampled by some fickle celebrity. Nice, normal Marten with his mousy hair and his robot facts. I smile.

“Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Marten. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Miranda sends me a mischievous grin. “That reminds me, you know that hot bartender from The Rooftop? Super flirty, cheekbones that could cut glass?”

“The one who gave us free refills on Samara’s birthday? Shane or something?”

“Yeah, him! He asked about you last time, wondered why you hadn’t come with us for like three weeks in a row.”

“How does he even know my name?”

“He didn’t, he just asked about our red-haired friend but you’ve clearly made an impression.” Miranda winks. “Maybe he’d be willing to help you get over Paul.”

I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m pretty sure he’s slept with like half the regulars. And I’m not looking for hook-ups, not now. I need to get my so-called career back on track, but I want to do something… different.”

I think of Paul, of late nights in hotel rooms, laughing at the most ridiculous b-movies before having amazing sex and falling asleep with his arms around me. “I don’t want to do cosplay again, absolutely nothing with movies or comics or superheroes.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “What about just fashion stuff? I started out with just my shoe reviews and now it’s more general style advice and outfits to match your heels, but you have an eye for it and you know a lot about cuts and materials and design.”

“I guess? I don’t really know a lot about classic fashion, though, like couture and such. And it’s a really tough business to get into, plus I’d kinda like to keep the expenses down for now.”

“You could always just jump on one of the big trends. I bet you’d make bank as one of those clean girl aesthetic influencers or something.”

“That’s actually a good idea. I mean, I can probably get pretty far with just the makeup and clothes I already have. And I could move my sewing machine and rearrange the room, set up my camera and the lights…”

Miranda laughs. “We can start right now as long as it means we don’t have to watch any more terrible movies tonight.”

I reach for the remote. “Not a chance.”

beginning / previous / next

[typicalopposite]

zombie AU 🫣

because @blue-arts-stuff made this little gem right here (go give it all the love because *chefs kiss* the angst was angsting there) and it wormed its way into my brain and would not leave me alone until I made this!

CHECK THE TAGS FOR TRIGGER I BEG YOU!

Buck is tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally… just so goddamn tired. 

A storm is coming… he can feel it in the plates and screws that hold his leg together. He’d always thought that was a myth, but sure enough every big storm he feels a twinge of pain around them. They should get moving if they are going to make it before the rain starts. 

He scrumages through what supplies are available in the remains of the little corner shop. He only takes what he truly needs—which isn’t much—and leaves all that he can for whoever passes through next. Outside he can hear distant thunder, he needs to hurry. He unzips his bag and stuffs the supplies inside, catching a glimpse of the picture frame; he takes it out. 

Their wedding day. 

The smell of the ocean in the background, the sound of the cheers from their family as they vowed to have and to hold each other through it all… the sight of Tommy dressed in his tux, so handsome, so in love, so happy. 

They were so happy… for a while. They didn’t get nearly enough time before the outbreak.

Then it was long days, and longer nights of fighting to stay alive; fighting to keep everyone they cared about alive. So in vain, and slowly they watched as their family dwindled down until there were just a handful of them left. 

It was supposed to be a simple night run. They needed water. They needed more medicine. The store was so close… but not close enough. The attack was brutal. More lives lost. 

Tommy got bit. 

“Ev- Evan, baby… listen to me,” he tried, as Buck panickedly tried to clean out the wound. 

“No. I can— I can fix this… just let me think.”

“Evan.”

“We— We’ll cut off your arm,” he suggests. “It’s worked before…”

“It’s already spreading, baby. Look…” Tommy pulls up the bloody sleeve revealing the bluish green streaks running towards his neck and chest. “It’s too late… you have to.” 

“No.”

“Baby, we promised each other—” Tommy begged, tears falling from his eyes, the infection visibly creeping up his neck. Buck frantically shook his head, tuning out Tommy’s cries. “Evan!” He gasped. “Shoot me! Please!”

“No! I can’t!”

***

Buck wipes his eyes and slides the frame back into the bag. He slowly rises to his feet and slowly makes his way over to the bathroom and pushes the door open. Loud snarling, grunting and gurgling—that would normally send him into fight or flight mode—comes out of the darkness. He shines his flashlight into the room, stepping inside and unclipping the chain from one of the stalls. “Come on, sweetheart… we’re almost there.” 

They walk through the empty streets of what used to be LA; Buck leading Tommy (wrapped safely in a makeshift straight jacket, and wearing a muzzle) by the thick chain. The latter stumbles and growls, his head snapping this way and that, teeth chattering as he does his best to chomp at anything past the muzzle. They make it home just as the rain starts to fall. 

Buck steps inside the door, pulls Tommy through as well, and looks around at what’s left of their destroyed house—some of the mess they had made themselves in the panic to flee the infected city, some done after by people looking for shelter and supplies. He walks through the rooms, remembering the days they were filled with happy memories and life; the promise of a bright future. They were going to grow old in this house… live out the rest of their lives in this house. 

At least one of those was correct.  

He sighs, and leads Tommy up to the bedroom, securing him on the solid, sturdy, bedpost of their king size bed. He opens the bag, takes out the frame and sets it up on the bedside table. He takes out what he got from the little corner shop—a gun shop— and grits his teeth as he lifts his shirt, revealing the bite mark he’s been tirelessly trying to keep from spreading… until now. 

“Buck you have to let him go,” they had tried to tell him. “It’s not even— he wouldn’t want this… to live like this… for you to live like this…” 

He has lost so many people, the ones he didn’t lose to the virus, he lost for his impulsive, borderline insane decision. He’s been alone for a while… but at least he still had Tommy, in some way. 

Buck fights just to take in another breath, and puts a bullet into the gun. Tommy grunts and struggles against his restraints. “Almost ready,” Buck says. He is tired… but he won’t be for long. He walks over to Tommy and unhooks the chain from the bed. He looks into those glossed over eyes, gray and distant and thinks about when they were blue and bright and happy. They were happy once. Maybe they will be happy again in the next life. 

He slips a key in the restraints lock, swiftly turning it and releasing Tommy, He quickly pulls him into a hug, Tommy grabbing him back, turning his head into Buck’s neck and biting down. Buck pressing his head tight against Tommy’s. “I love you,” he says, and closes his eyes. 

The cool barrel against his cheek turns into a cool breeze and the salty smell of the ocean fills the air. Buck opens his eyes and is met with a beautiful sunset, a crowded beach… and Tommy, smiling at him. He blinks a few times to see if it’s all just going to disappear… 

“Hey baby, I’ve been waiting for you,” Tommy says, holding out his hand, the remnant of sunlight catching on his wedding band. Buck stares at Tommy for a moment, just taking in the sight. He smiles and takes his hand, and they join their family out by the water. 

.

.

.

It’s years later before the Buckley-Kinard house is visited again. 

Years since they were sent away to a safe haven while their parents fought off hoard after hoard, until the virus had runs its course. Those lost souls that weren’t instantly killed from the virus, or the battalion sent out to fight off the undead the virus created, eventually just rotted away until they were no longer a threat. 

“Hey Chris!” Jee calls from a bedroom. “I found something!” He stops poking around with one of his canes, rummaging for anything left to salvage from the house he spent many days of his youth, and goes to see what she found. In the back bedroom, laid out across the mattress of a tattered king sized bed, are two skeletons clinging to each other. 

“Do you think it’s them?” Jee asks. 

Chris steps closer, inspects the bodies; most notably their hands, and the matching bands they both are wearing. He looks up at the faded picture still sitting on the bedside table and smiles, a tear slipping from his eye. “Yeah… it’s them.” 

[uluvjay]

Prompts 80 & 131 from the smut list (I believe it’s the 2nd list) w/ Nico plz!! Maybe it’s photoshoot/media day & reader is the photographer & goes to fix his hair & make small adjustments to his gear etc. while it’s happening

80. “What? Does that feel good?”

131. “Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view”

Nico Hischier x secret relationship! Reader

Warnings?; smut, relationship is secret because reader is the team photographer, hand job(m receiving), oral(m receiving)

Sorry for any error! Hope you enjoy

—

Today was a busy day for the New Jersey devils, the season started in three weeks meaning all the media needed done was being taken today. Four media girls had been split up and each given an even group of guys to work with.

You had Jack, Luke, Nico, and Jesper. You didn’t mind working with any of these guys, especially Nico as he was your boyfriend.

There weren’t many people on the team that knew about your relationship but of course Jack did so he didn’t hesitate to tease you about it the whole time you worked with him today, media was annoying to him so he decided to annoy you.

After a good four hours of working with the other three guys it was finally Nicos turn to come into the little media room they had you in. You were thankful it was just the two of you in the room because after a summer full of Nico you were missing your man.

There was a knock on the door before you looked up and seen your boyfriend entering the room. “Hi honey” he greeted you after shutting the door.

“Hi Ni” you replied with a smile as he came over and gave you a kiss on your head.

He waited for your instructions before doing anything, not wanting to mess anything up.

“Okay so first we’re going to take pictures of you in your jersey, so take off your T-shirt and throw your jersey on” you told him pointing to the jersey resting on a little table in the room.

You should have been setting everything up while he got changed but you couldn’t help but stare at his back muscles flexing as he moved, and admire the healing scratch marks on his back from a few nights ago.

“I can feel you staring” he said turning around with a smirk.

“I was admiring my art work, now shush and go sit” you told him

“Yes ma’am” he saluted you before taking a seat.

You got your camera ready and began to take pictures of his front but a piece of his hair was out of place and it was driving you crazy.

“Wait, lean down here for a second” you told him before setting your camera down and making your way to him and fixing his hair.

“Am I runway ready?” He asked with a laugh

“Damn straight you are baby” you laughed with him.

You got the front and back shots of his jersey before having him sit down for his headshot, but before you could even press the button that stupid piece of hair was messed up again.

You let out a groan before once again putting your equipment down and making your way back to him again. As you stood between his legs fixing his hair he ran his hands over your body before letting them rest on your ass.

When you leaned back a little to double check his hair he pulled you right back to him.

“Nico! I have to take your picture” you laughed as he began to kiss your neck.

“Pictures can wait, need you” he said and grabbed your hand to guide it to the bulge in his work out shorts.

“Baby we can’t, your to loud” you laughed and stepped back a little.

“What if I promise to be quite?” He asked giving you puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck fine! But be. Quiet.” You told him before he pulled his shorts and boxers down just enough for his hard dick to pop out.

“Ohh you poor thing, look how swollen your tip is” you teased him and you looked down at it.

“Baby please” he whined

“So impatient” you grumbled before spitting in your hands and slowly jerking him off at.

“Ohh shiitt” he moaned quietly, head thrown back.

You sped up a little watching as he bit his lip to keep himself from crying out to loud. You moved your other hand into his pants to pull his balls out and slowly massage them as well but his hand quickly shot to grab your wrist as soon as you began.

“What? Does that feel good” you mocked him

“Yea-fuck you know it does” he groaned as you began to work him slowly. You just laughed before dropping to your knees and putting him in your mouth.

“Holy shit!” He moaned out a little too loud at the contact of your warm tongue.

You pulled off him with a pop and scolded him for his loud outburst. You put him back in your mouth, taking him as deep as you could and holding yourself there for a moment until you needed to come up for air. You took a deep breath and began to bob you head back on his cock, your hand working what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Your mouths so good” he moaned out in a hushed voice.

“Fuck my face Nico” you told him and watched his eyes light up.

He put a hand on the back of your head and used the other to guide his cock into your mouth before applying it to the back of your head as well.

His first few thrust were soft but they quickly sped up and he was telling you he was close, “shit gonna come down your throat” he told you and he looked down into your eyes.

One last hard thrust and you felt warm liquid run down your throat. He moaned before slowly pulling out of your mouth and tucking himself away as you cleaned around your mouth up.

“What?” You asked as you felt his eyes intensely on you.

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view” he replied with a smirk.

[eeechooo]

Flour, Fear and Rain.

Fandom : Lockwood and Co

Pairing : George Karim x Reader

Request : @ilbradipodisagiato

Three moments : baking, nightmare and rain.

The kitchen at 35 Portland Row was filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies. George and you had decided to take a break from ghost-hunting and try your hand at baking. Naturally, it had turned into a competition.

"You call that a cookie, George?" you teased, holding up a slightly misshapen lump of dough. "I think it's trying to escape!"

George adjusted his glasses, pretending to be deeply offended. "That, my dear friend, is a masterpiece in the making."

"A masterpiece of what? Modern art?" you quipped, giggling. "It looks like it melted."

"Fine talk from someone whose cookies are more like dry biscuits," George shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes, scooping up some flour. "Oh really? Well, let's see how it holds up against this!" With a swift motion, you tossed the flour in George's direction.

He sputtered, momentarily blinded by the cloud of white powder. "Oh, it's on!" he declared, grabbing a handful of cookie dough and launching it at you.

You ducked, laughing as the dough splattered against the wall behind you. "Missed me!"

"Did I?" George smirked, advancing with another handful of dough.

You grabbed a bowl of sugar, brandishing it like a weapon. "Stay back, or I'll make sure you look like a sugar plum fairy."

He paused, raising an eyebrow. "A sugar plum fairy, huh? You might need to work on your threats."

You scoffed playfully, flicking a pinch of sugar in his direction. "Consider it a promise."

Laughter filled the kitchen as flour, dough, and sugar flew through the air. By the end, both of you were covered in ingredients, the kitchen a complete mess.

Breathless, you leaned against the counter. "Truce?" you asked, holding out your hand.

George took it, a smile spreading across his face. "Truce," he agreed, shaking your hand. For a moment, neither of you let go, the playful tension hanging in the air before you both pulled back, chuckling nervously.

"You know," George said, looking at the disaster zone that was once a kitchen, "we might have to clean this up before Lockwood sees it. Unless you want to be on cleaning duty for the next month."

"Oh, so you do care about cleaning after all," you teased, nudging him lightly.

"Only because I know you'll make me do all the work," George replied, his tone lighter than usual. "Besides, I think we make a good team. Even if your baking skills are a bit questionable."

"Questionable?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'll have you know, my cookies are the epitome of perfection."

"Sure, if perfection means slightly burnt," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Lockwood walked in, freezing mid-step as he took in the scene. "What on earth happened here?"

You and George exchanged a guilty look, both of you covered in flour and dough, the kitchen a disaster. "Um, baking experiment gone wrong?" you offered weakly.

Lockwood shook his head, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "You two are impossible. Clean up this mess, and next time, try not to destroy the kitchen, okay?"

As Lockwood left, you turned to George, both of you bursting into laughter. "I think we got off easy," you said, still giggling.

"Yeah," George agreed, wiping flour from his glasses. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

You nodded, feeling a warm glow in your chest. "Neither would I, George. Neither would I."

Nightmares gripped you tightly, tossing you into a realm where fear and reality blurred. You watched helplessly as George, his face contorted in pain, struggled against the ethereal grip of a malevolent ghost. The scene played out in agonizing slow motion, his eyes pleading for help that never came. The terror peaked as the ghost's icy fingers grazed his skin, and you woke up gasping, covered in cold sweat.

Heart racing, you stumbled out of bed, desperate to escape the lingering nightmare. The house was eerily quiet as you navigated through dimly lit corridors until you reached George's bedroom. Hesitating only briefly, you pushed the door open gently.

George lay on his side, his features softened in sleep. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Without thinking, you crawled into bed beside him, seeking solace in his presence.

He stirred slightly, blinking awake with a mix of surprise and concern as he registered your presence beside him. Before he could say anything, you buried your face into his chest, seeking comfort in his warmth.

For a moment, George hesitated, not accustomed to physical touch. But seeing your distress, he tentatively wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His touch was tentative yet comforting, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your fear.

"You're safe now," he murmured softly, his voice breaking the silence.

"I... I saw you..." you started, your voice trembling. "It was... I thought..."

George tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking your back. "It was just a nightmare," he assured you, his own voice surprisingly steady despite the emotions swirling within him.

"I was so scared," you admitted, your words muffled against his chest.

"I know," George replied quietly. "But I'm here. I've got you."

The tension ebbed away with each passing moment, replaced by a quiet understanding that words couldn't fully express. As you lay there together, the night slowly gave way to dawn, the world outside beginning to stir.

You yawned, eyes filled with tears from exhaustion. "I was terrified. Don't ever leave, we love you too much for that."

"Even you?" His voice was low, as if he was already sleeping.

"You have no idea."

When morning finally came, you both stirred awake, still entangled in each other's embrace. George looked at you with a rare softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"I'm glad you came," he said softly, breaking the silence.

You met his gaze, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I needed to be here," you admitted honestly.

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words and shared emotions. Finally, George spoke again, his voice hesitant yet sincere.

"You know, I... I care about you," he confessed quietly, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your arm.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of emotions flooding through you. "I care about you too, George," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with equal honesty.

There was a pause, the air thick with unspoken implications. Neither of you moved, content to simply exist in this moment of fragile intimacy.

But as the morning light filtered through the curtains, reality began to assert itself once more. The weight of your confession hung in the air, yet neither of you addressed it directly as you untangled yourselves from each other's embrace.

The day unfolded with a semblance of normalcy, filled with routine tasks and the familiar banter that characterized your relationship. The night's confession lingered just beneath the surface, unacknowledged yet subtly altering the dynamics between you.

As you went about your day, there were stolen glances and small gestures that spoke volumes. Yet, when Lockwood and Lucy arrived, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you and George, the moment of vulnerability shared in the dark hours of the night seemed like a distant dream.

It was as if the confession had never happened, buried beneath the weight of unspoken agreements and the unyielding demands of their ghost-hunting profession. And so, life at 35 Portland Row continued, with its ghosts, mysteries, and the unspoken truth that lingered between you and George, waiting to be acknowledged once more.

The sky had opened up, pouring rain in sheets as you and George hurried through the streets of London, having just left the Archives after a long day of research. The chaotic weather had left you both drenched and disoriented, separated from Lockwood and Lucy in the midst of a downpour (your coworkers stayed home, lucky for them).

"Great, just great," George muttered, wiping water from his glasses. "Can this day get any worse?"

You laughed, the sound echoing faintly against the rain. "At least we're not being chased by ghosts. Or relic men. Or both."

George shot you a sideways glance, a small smile playing on his lips despite the circumstances. "Small victories," he conceded with a nod.

As you continued along the rain-soaked street, George suddenly stopped, pulling a small umbrella from his pocket and opening it above your heads. "Here," he said matter-of-factly, "this should keep us a bit drier."

You blinked in surprise, grateful for his gesture but also caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of sharing an umbrella with him in the middle of a storm.

Seeking refuge from the relentless rain, you soon found an awning and hurried beneath it, the patter of raindrops creating a cocoon of sound around you both. Leaning against the sheltered wall, you turned to face George, rain dripping from your hair.

"There," George said with a hint of concern, gesturing to your soaked appearance. "You're going to catch a cold if you keep getting soaked like this."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I'll be fine, George. It's just a little rain."

He sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Stubborn as always."

There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound the steady drumming of raindrops all around. His gaze met yours through the curtain of rain, and without words, you knew that the moment had come to express what had been silently growing between you.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palm. George's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he made no move to pull away.

In that moment, as the rain poured down around you, the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air. Without another word, you leaned in, your movements guided by an unspoken understanding. The kiss that followed was gentle yet filled with intensity, a testament to the feelings that had silently grown between you. Well, that was about time.

The world around you faded into insignificance as you stood there, the rain soaking through your clothes. It was just the two of you, caught in a moment of raw honesty and shared vulnerability. The kiss tasted of rain and unspoken confessions, each touch and breath a silent affirmation of what had been silently acknowledged but never spoken aloud.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and unsure of what would come next, George's eyes met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. There were no words needed, no grand gestures required. It was a moment of quiet revelation, shared beneath the stormy skies of London.

I'm not really a fan of this, but my laptop is STILL BEING AWFUL. writing on my phone is... well, let's say it's not that nice.

I'm so sorry if that took so long, being happy with your own writing is so complicated, but now it's done! if you have any other request, I'll be happy to write them!

Taglist : @cielooci @neewtmas @35-portlandxrow

[sirensea14]

This, this is a visual presentation of what is happening to us right now

Theres also conspiracy theory that tried to connect certain dots. That not only is China involved with this shit but also a certain family in our government and also the US. Most of it are from tiktok, i think i reposted some of those in my account.

Currently, China is making a move on our Palawan (the long island part that looks like a "leg" since our archipelago looks like an animal of some sort) and they have been attacking our navy now, violently. Someone even lost a finger. Its only a matter of time before that finger turns into lives.

The world is really falling apart right now, and every strong countries out there are very power-hungry. Stepping on poor countries like ants, they will not stop until the ants bite back.

The Chinese have been silent during Duterte's administration and it may have a connection as to why China is being violent right now at Marcos's administration.

I feel like we're trapped. China is locking in on us; multiple vessels, numerous chinese students around the regions, POGO and possible spies. The US are silently building their own army possibly preparing to betray us again like they did back then (History time: 1898, i think, is the time we, along with the Americans, defeated the Spaniards. And then they colonized us after learning that Spain actually sold us to the Americans. It was too late. Basically betraying and taking control of us. This is simply a theory, but it is possible that the US might do this again.) And then our own; the Government. There are many corrupt officials here, saying nothing but empty promises, false hope and senseless words. Saying "that's just water", "just give the WPS to china so that there would be no war and no blood." The problem is, if that happens, if we give up OUR territory, then China will simply exploit this rich source of oil and gas reserves, and the abundant fish etc. And that Secret Gentleman's agreement. If what China was saying that 'we did not fulfill the agreement' was true, then Duterte must have sold us to China back then in the pandemic. Because they were silent back then, it was peaceful even though this dispute has been going on since my parents were in highschool (around 1990-2000s)

And then our Vice President, Sara Duterte, stepped down of position after stealing 125 million pesos ($2,123,32.50) in an attempt of disguising it as 'confidential funds'.

This has been making my head hurt so much. What the fuck is going on with this shit, it's so much bullshit in one area.

Amin ang West Philippine sea‼️🇵🇭

One post aint enough, i need to spread the word🙏 I hope that the blue and red colors on our flag doesnt flip.

[side note: sorry i havent been posting much art lately. Im not doing enough wips and i keep distracting myself from this mess. But it's unavoidable because its all around tiktok, facebook and instagram]

[dumbasslesbi2]

But I Thought You Had a Girlfriend? ~ Chapter 2 (Agatha x Rio Students AU)

Chapter 1

Summary:

Rio was all set to go to Agatha's house. Both of them ready to confess to each other how they felt but they still had a project to work on. Will either of them have the courage to confess their feelings?

Notes:

Hi! As promised here's another chapter! As a small reminder please tell me if there's any misspelling or grammatically incorrect stuff, I have dyslexia so sometimes I miss some stuff.

Rio pulled to Agatha’s house exactly at 12 on the dot. She was a nervous mess and wanted to make sure she didn’t come off as too much by coming early but she also didn’t want to come late and make it seem like she didn’t care. She had brought an array of candies to give to Agatha since she wasn’t sure what type she would have liked, so she brought a whole spread wrapped in a basket. Rio put on her backpack full of art supplies and was ready to knock on Agatha’s door but before she even could, Agatha was already opening the door. “Took you long enough, c’mon get in!” Agatha said happily, dragging Rio by her arm. “Finally? You told me to come at 12” Rio said, also giggling. “I know but I was getting bored, I really wanted to see you” Agatha said with a pout, looking up at Rio. She couldn’t help but blush at Agatha’s display. Rio wasn’t ready for all the cards Agatha was going to play. “So where’s the studio so I can put down my supplies?” Rio asked, trying to calm herself down internally. “Oh ya, your poor back is probably aching from carrying all that, let me take care of all that sweetheart” Agatha told Rio with a wink. Rio was too flustered to argue against her and handed her the backpack. There was no way she was going to survive this. “Um, is it cool if I use the bathroom real quick?” Rio asked, flustered to all hell. “Yeah, Just down the hall to the left” Agatha pointed out before she went to the studio. As Rio entered the bathroom she dampened a paper towel and blotched herself in hopes of calming herself down. “It’s okay Rio, it’s obvious she already likes you. You just have to match her energy back, you got this” she said to herself, ready to go back out and play Agatha at her own game. “Oh perfect, I just finished putting everything in the studio!” Agatha exclaimed, pulling Rio by the arm once again to show her where the studio was. “So what were you thinking for the project?” Agatha asked, when they finally got to the room. It was filled with all sorts of canvases and multiple easels for painting. As well as drawers full of all sorts of paints. “Well the project is supposed to be a piece or pieces that show each other’s points of views but with different perspectives so how about we do portraits of each other? I know it’s a bit old school and dumb but hear me out. Every 30 minutes we switch, and we have to continue where the other person was” Rio said, looking around the room and then landing her eyes on Agatha. Agatha was too distracted by Rio’s beauty to even fully hear or understand what Rio had just said. Agatha shook her head once she realized that Rio had stopped speaking to get her out of her trance and said “Oh, yeah, that sounds cool.” She tried to lean against the door but misstepped and almost tripped. Rio was quick to her feet and held Agatha’s back and arm before she could trip. “I got you, can’t be having you get hurt sweetheart” Rio said in a mocking tone to how Agatha had said sweetheart earlier. ”T-thank you” Agatha stuttered, flustered since she wasn’t expecting Rio to do that. “Let me grab the canvases and we’ll be all set to go” Agatha said, avoiding any eye contact and getting the equipment.

Agatha put up two chairs and easels with carts so they could put their supplies down. Rio and Agatha began to sketch on their portraits while also stealing longing glances at each other disguised as “them working on the sketches”. Once Agatha’s timer went off they switch seat but were both in awe of each other’s work when they switched. “Oh. My. God. Rio you need your eyes checked cause I am nowhere near this beautiful” Agatha said in shock of Rio’s portrait so far. “Don’t say that, you’re even more beautiful in my eyes. I just can’t capture it all in a painting” said Rio, putting the brushes in water. “If anything, I think you made me prettier than I actually am” she told Agatha with a giggle. Agatha couldn’t help but blush and stare at Rio, she never realized how pretty Rio was when she smiled. “How about we take a small break for now, it’s not due for another couple of weeks. We can watch a movie or something in the living room” Agatha told Rio, hoping she would agree. “Uh yeah sure, what type of movie do you wanna watch?” Rio asked, getting down from the chair and stealing one last glance at Agatha’s sketch. “Whatever you want to” Agatha said with a smile. “Are you fine with a horror movie?” Rio asked Agatha, smiling back at her. She secretly hoped that Agatha was scared of horror movies and would cling to her. She also genuinely loved horror flicks. “Sure, pick whatever you want. My mom has like all the streaming services so we should be able to find something.” She told Rio, dragging her back to the living room and flopping on the couch. Rio couldn’t help but chuckle at Agatha’s “man spreading”, she wasn’t sure how she didn’t notice she was a lesbian when she constantly sat like that. She decided to put on Scream since she didn’t want to traumatize Agatha but still wanted to see if she could maybe scare her with some jump scares. “Oooh a classic, I’ve never actually seen this one” said Agatha, getting up to make some popcorn for the two. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites, I hope you like it” Rio said, looking back at Agatha. 

As the movie played Agatha never actually got scared, instead she laughed at some parts of the movie. A reaction Rio wasn’t expecting at all but definitely welcomed it. “I can’t believe they fall for the same things they say are the troupes like what were they expecting?” Agatha said while laughing and shoveling more popcorn into her mouth. “I know like they plan everything out and yet still get killed? Like how much of an idiot do you have to be” Rio said giggling and looking at her. Agatha couldn’t help but lock eyes while laughing and stare at Rio, slowly they both stopped giggling and a silence fell upon them. Agatha leaned in, hoping it was the right moment but before she could go in, Rio stopped her by pressing her hand to Agatha's chest. “ Wait, before we do this. I have to ask you something” she said, looking down. “Sure, what is it?” Agatha asked, hoping they would still be able to kiss. “Are you and Wanda dating?” she asked, looking back up to meet Agatha’s piercing gaze. “What?!? No?!? Plus, aren’t you like dating Alice?” Agatha asked in disgust of the fact she thought Rio thought she would be dating her best friend. “What?!? Ew no! We’re just friends” Rio said back to Agatha, in equal amount of disgust. “Wait so you’re not dating anyone?” Rio asked, realizing what this all meant. “Nu uh, unless you count us” Agatha said breathily, going back in for this kiss. Rio let it happen and by God was she happy that she did. Agatha’s lips were as fluffy and pillowy as she imagined. The two separated after a while and cuddled on the couch. They continued to watch more horror movies since Agatha seemed to like Scream. On top of this they also snuck a couple of kisses while cuddling and watching movies, before the two knew it, it was getting late and eventually Rio would have to go home. 

“Agatha, I hate to say it but it’s getting late” Rio said with a pout and pecking Agatha’s lips. “Why don’t we just have a sleepover?” Agatha asked nervously, hoping Rio would say yes. “Mmm, let me text my parents and let them know. I don’t have any extra clothes though, can I borrow some of yours?” Rio asked, texting her parents to let them know she was spending the night. “Of course!” Agatha said, hugging her and kissing her cheeks. Rio couldn't help but giggle a bit at how happy Agatha was with her response. “Come on!” Agatha said as she was dragging Rio again, she could get used to this is all she thought. Once they reached Agatha's room Rio couldn't help but stay at the door frame and stare and all the details and trinkets. So many awards but also a great amount of paintings and books. Especially witchcraft books. “Are you a witch, Miss Agatha” Rio asked while staring at her bookshelf. “No but sometimes I wish I was, I just find the history and everything fascinating,” she said, looking through her closet. “ I get it, my family is into brujería but I always enjoyed it from afar,” Rio said, still looking at all the books Agatha had. “Wait, that's like, actually cool. Also do these work for you?” Agatha asked, holding up a blank tank top and some dark green sweats. “Ya, those are perfect!” Rio said, taking the clothes from Agatha. Rio left the room to go to the bathroom to change. Agatha let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. It was just hitting her that she would be sleeping in the same bed as Rio. What if she snored? What if Rio didn't actually want this but couldn't say no because she didn't want to be rude? What if-. “Agatha? What's wrong?” Rio asked, standing at the door frame holding her clothes. “Huh? Nothing, don't worry about it” Agatha said, shaking her head a bit to snap her out of her head. “Your face was saying otherwise, I won't judge you, you can tell me” she said with a small smile, reaching out and holding onto Agatha's hands. “When did you first realize you had a crush on me?” Agatha asked, not looking up to meet Rio’s gaze. “I think sophomore or junior year when I saw you and Wanda in the cafeteria. It didn't truly form till this year and seeing you in AP art. Your paintings say so much more than you think, I love how gentle and warm you make everything look.

I know you don't want people to know but I can tell, you have a soft spot.” Rio said, waiting for Agatha to meet her gaze. “Mmm, don't tell anyone my secret or else you're dead” Agatha replied in a snarky tone, Rio couldn't help but giggle a bit at her response. Rio put her clothes down on the bed so she could hug Agatha. “What about you? When did you realize” Rio asked, loving their height difference since Agatha molded perfectly into their hug. “Not exactly the same as you. I noticed you since freshman year but was just too much of a coward to talk to you. You seemed way too cool and out of my league. I told Wanda about you for a while and she would always get so upset I hadn’t talked to you yet. I guess this was a blessing in disguise” she said with a giggle, swaying in Rio’s arms. “If it makes you feel any better, I talk about you so much to Alice she’s banned the topic sometimes cause if not I’ll just go into a tirade about how beautiful and pretty you are” Rio replied, also giggling. They separated for a bit but not without staring into each other’s eyes. Agatha couldn’t help herself and cupped Rio’s face. Rio couldn’t help herself and nuzzle into Agatha’s hands, she could get used to all this. This time it was Rio who went in for the kiss and she poured all her emotions into it so Agatha would stop doubting her interest in her. When they finally pulled away, they stayed there for a moment, touching foreheads, giggling. “Come on, let’s get to bed. It’s getting late” said Agatha, pulling away from Rio who was groaning due to the loss of hugging Agatha. “No complaining, plus you can cuddle me in bed” Agatha told her, doing grippy hands at Rio once she was under the covers. Rio couldn’t resist Agatha and got under the covers, instantly cuddling with Agatha. They stayed like this for a while, talking about everything and nothing. Finally, all their feelings no longer had to stay hidden and they could finally say everything they wanted to say to each for so long. They held onto each other until eventually falling asleep, both of them ready for whatever was to happen next for the both of them.

[blingblong55]

TV Crush -141

Based on a request:

This is my first time sending a concept of mine so I apologise if my concept is absoulute dog shit So I'm from Ireland and rugby is extremely popular here and when I watch it me and my mom are really rowdy and we just flatout simp for some of the men so I can imagine a female reader at the TF141 base in the lounge just watching a rugby match and absolutely gawking over one of the players and soap joins in after being curious as to what the reader was doing and then the rest of the task force walk in the room to just the reader and soap absolutely drooling over the players😭 (Have a good day or night💋🎀)

F!Reader, platonic!relationship

Normal day at the base, you sit by the television, the common room has the best channels, especially your personal favourite, Sky Sports. The men at the base use it mainly for football, mainly Ghost and Price but you recently started to use it for Rugby. The sport is quite intriguing, fun and easy to follow along. And, as your weekly favourite match began, Soap rushed to the sofa with you. "Think they'll do the montage?" he asks you and you nod. "If they don't I'm sure, we'll see a fan-made one somewhere."

As the match went on, you gushed over George Ford and his beauty as well as how amazing he did in this match. Soap chuckled anytime you blushed or giggled at the camera angles the channel gave you. "holy fuck that man- Soap! Oh my...look at the- ah...dude...the fucking- oh my!" you kept hitting his arm and he laughed. "I mean, personally I think Anthony Watson is much better looking." You nod, "I mean he is hot- Soap...look at the way he looks at the other team!" you blush and he shakes his head. "And to think he is married- ow what was that for!" he says as he rubs his arm. "Don't you dare break my fangirl moment right now." A promise to another punch if he dares break your heart.

As you two argue and gush over the men, Gaz calls Price in. "Wouldn't surprise me if they were-" That's when he hears you and Soap giggle like school girls. "Never mind." price says and then Ghost walks in. "They're doing it again?" he asks the other two men who just nod.

"If he asked for it, I'd lick the sweat off him," you comment to which Soap playfully hits your arm. "Same but you're nasty out loud, lass." The three men just watch in amusement as Soap and you cheer for when the attractive men of the teams come on screen and boo when they aren't on screen. "One of these days we'll have to put them on leashes or they'll bite any man that resembles any of those lads." Gaz comments and Price, like a tired father nods. "They'll end up getting us in trouble if we don't control them."

"Agree with that." Ghost comments. After the match, you and Soap do the usual social media scan, looking for any of the thirst traps any other fan has made. But in the middle of the weekly blushing and thirst comments said out loud, you and he ended up thirsting over the much older but still attractive, older men in the acting industry. "I don't condone cheating but if he wanted to have fun for a night with me before going back to his wife, I'd give him a pass." A comment to which Soap nods, "Honestly if I were to be with this exquisite piece of art, I'd brag every minute of the day." You hum in agreement.

"They'll be the downfall of this task force." Price says before passing out a cloud of smoke. "Aye, but at least it gives us three hours to ourselves." Ghost comments. "Anyway, you lads want to head to the mess hall." Gaz offers and both men nod, to which they all leave the room. "Fuck do I need an older man inside of me." you sigh out and Soap pats your shoulder, "One day my friend."

A/N: I have no idea where this is headed...