#I can’t go back to being a teenager again I can’t rewrite the way I felt back then

[medusa-was-innocent]

Wow this sucks

[hheaven-sentt]

an oasis, a sanctuary

summary: i would say it was nice to see you, but it wasn't really | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 2.8K

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT!!!, mentions of a toxic/transactional relationship, mentions of alcohol consumption, leon is kinda mean but like he's going through it, angst to smut pipeline

notes: this is like. half baked smut but i wanted to post it | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re fighting like teenagers. It’s pathetic, really, but you can’t will yourself to move from your spot on the floor. You’re sitting in front of the bedroom door, back rigid against the wooden planes. You feel stupid, stubborn, and, most of all, lonely. You know Leon’s either sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for you to crawl out from your cave of solitude, or he’s left entirely. You didn’t hear the front door open, though, so you’re betting on the first option.

You hear footsteps traipse across the padding of the carpet before they come to a stop outside the door. You hear him sigh.

“Are you going to open the door?” he asks. You feel your frown stretch down further over your chin.

“No,” you say defiantly. He sighs again. “Go away, Leon,”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says. You want to groan, knowing he’s right. But you’re stubborn, cut from a taught cloth.

“You can sleep on the couch tonight,” you say. “I’d like to go to bed, and I don’t want you to stand outside the door all night,”

“What is this? Marriage?” he says, frustrated. You can picture him running a hand down his face. His comment flares the anger in you again. Of course it’s not marriage. It’s not even funny to consider it that. You laugh quietly.

“Go away, Leon,” you say again. “I want to go to bed,”

“I’m not letting you go to sleep without resolving this,”

“Too bad,”

He groans, and you hear a bit of shuffling, suggesting that he’s sat down on the floor outside the door. You feel a bit of pride, knowing that you’d bothered him enough to make him do that. 

You consider, briefly, telling him to pack his things and never come back. It would be the worst pain you’d ever experienced, but how would that heartache be any different than what you feel every day? He barely has the decency to return your calls. He’s away for weeks–months even–without a word. You want to scream at him, tell him how much you ache and hate him. You want to throw things at him, bruise him in the way he has you. Your fists curl up at the thought. What would it be like to be free of this? What would it be like to live your days without worrying if Leon was coming back?

As if he can hear your thoughts, he says, “You knew what you signed up for,”

You did. You knew what was to come when you invited him to stay. You knew the way things would end when you sewed up an open wound upon his return in the middle of the night. You knew the story. You’d thought that maybe, somehow, there was a way to change it, to rewrite the script to fit your desires better.

“I signed up for you, Leon,” you respond. “Not this,”

You wanted Leon. You yearned for him more than a desert yearns for rain. You wanted the Leon who laughed at your jokes and watched movies with you. You wanted the Leon who washed the dishes after dinner. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want the radio silence for days or more, or the gag order of his job. He got to know you, how could he deny you the same right?

“I’m leaving in two days,” he says. You cringe against the door. “Is this how you want to leave it?”

“I don’t know, Leon,” you whisper. He sighs heavily from the other side of the wood. You hear him shuffle.

“Call me when you make up your mind,” he says.

You don’t hear from him for two months. You’re almost expecting to get a call that says he’s dead, or never hear from him again at all. It’s an agonizing two months. You spend most of your nights alone, wasting away on your couch. It’s not much different to what you did before, but at least you had good company.

The knock on the door is abrupt, almost angry. You shuffle over to it, slowly and languidly like you’ve just been woken up from a deep sleep. You’ve been dazed the last eight weeks. You peer through the peephole; Leon stands, a bit worse for wear than when you last saw him, drenched in rain. You sigh.

“I know you’re home,” he says through the door. “I can see the light on through the frame,”

You grimace, and begrudgingly open the door. Leon looks good, almost better than you remember even if he’s got a few healing bruises and cuts. “Unfair,”

He shrugs, and goes to move around you to enter the space, like he always has. You put a hand out to stop him. He furrows his brow.

“What do you want?” you ask. He blinks at you. “Don’t act confused, Leon. There’s no way you actually thought you could just waltz back in here without a word for a few months,”

“Isn’t that what we always do?” he says. You bristle at the words. He’s not wrong. Every time he’s left, you’ve welcomed him back with open arms without a second thought, regardless of contact over the time he was gone. You can’t keep doing that to yourself, though. 

“I deserve more than that,” you say. He takes a step back. “I don’t want this anymore,”

“What are you saying?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, holding your ground. “Until you can step up, I don’t want you. I can’t do this anymore, Leon,”

“Do what?”

You frown. “This,” you say, motioning between you. You glance at the clock. “It’s half past two, Leon. And you show up at my door, expecting what? A welcome home party? That’s too much. I haven’t heard from you in months, Leon. I thought you were dead. Wouldn’t you agree that I deserve a bit more than a shrug? That I deserve a better you?”

He blinks at you as your words seep into his skin. You half expect him to ignore you, to stumble away and find another couch to crash on and someone else’s food to eat. He’s frowning deeply, setting in lines that look more like scars.

“Of course you deserve more,” he says. “I’ve always known that,”

This enrages you. “Then why haven’t you been that for me?”

“Because that’s not what I am,” he says plainly. You feel your eye twitch. “You’ve known that. This is what we do. We find comfort in each other for a few nights and not any more,”

Your breathing is heavy, labored. You want to push him, shove him out of the doorframe and back into the hallway. “That’s all we were?”

“I thought you knew that,”

“Get out,” you say. He’s not even in your apartment, just standing in the threshold, but your words ring. He takes another step back. “Don’t ever fucking come back. Can’t believe I wasted my fucking time on someone who didn’t even care,”

“I care,” he says. You roll your eyes, moving to close the door.

“Get out,” you say again. He doesn’t stop you as the door shuts. You stand in front of it for a moment too long, wondering if you’ve made the right decision. Ultimately, you step away, return to your spot on the couch.

You don’t cry like you might’ve a few months ago. Instead, you stare at the floor, watching the way the moonlight catches on the grooves of the wood. Everything feels for naught. You feel defeated, detached. You wonder if he’s slinked down the hall to his car yet or if he’s still standing at your door. You don’t move to check.

Life without him is normal. You don’t feel the guilt as you might’ve in another time. You continue your work, spending your time photographing galas and balls as if nothing bad has ever happened to you, as if no pain has ever washed down your back. You feel lucky to avoid him. The city can feel so small at times, and still, you have yet to cross paths with him.

The museum unveiling is beautiful. Golden ribbons and streamers streak across the ceiling, the bar looks to be made of crystal, and every waiter sounds vaguely british. You’re enjoying yourself, a glass of celebratory champagne in your hand as a perk of the job, and you feel lighter than you have in months. You feel a bit stiff in your outfit, but the theme is black tie formal, and you know your supervisor would skin you if you didn’t dress accordingly. Absent-mindedly, you pick at the hem of your shirt with your free hand. Your camera hangs loose around your neck like a badge of honor.

“You look nice,” comes from your left. Your blood runs cold for a moment. Of course you’d see him here of all places. You spy the president and his family from the corner of your eye.

Turning on your heel to face him, you say, “Thank you. Had to dig out the formal clothes,”

Leon smiles at you. “Me too,” he motions to his stiff suit. “This thing hasn’t seen the light of day in years,”

You want to bypass the formalities and ditch him where he stands. You’re still so angry at him. “Enjoying yourself?” you ask instead.

He shrugs. “You know crowds have never been my thing. Bar’s open, though, so I’ll take what I can get,”

You huff a laugh. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Last minute invite,” he says, glancing over your shoulder. “Figured I should get out of the house,”

The two of you go silent for a moment. He looks well, put together and whole. You like how he’s carrying himself. You clear your throat.

“I would say it was nice to see you,” you say. “But it wasn’t, really,”

This makes him smile. “I’m glad I got to see you,” he says. “You gave me a moment of reprieve. An oasis,”

You blink at him. For some reason, everything begins to make sense. And you hate him for it. All at once, you realize that your apartment became something of a sanctuary for him, and you denied him of it. It wasn’t without reason, but still, you deprived a man of few constants of the one thing he sought comfort from. And you feel guilty.

“How’s work going?” you ask. He falters for a moment.

“And here I thought our transaction was done,” he half jokes. “Work is okay. I’m sidelined for the next few weeks because the doctor said I could tear my ACL if I so much as jump a little bit, so here’s to office work,”

“So you’re in town for a while?” you ask. The question stands in the air for a moment, and you wish you could snatch it away from where it idles. There’s a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, for at least another few weeks,”

You nod slowly. “I still live in that dingy old place, if you ever want to stop by. Y’know, if you need an oasis,”

His smile widens into a full grin, showing off his teeth and splitting his face in two. You can’t help but return it.

“On one condition,” he says. You quirk a brow. “I’ll call when I’m away,”

Your heart constricts, and you feel silly for letting it. “I expect results, Leon,”

He laughs. “You’ll get them,” he promises. “Can I admit something?”

You nod.

“I’m not what you deserve,” he says. You frown. “Wasn’t then, still not now. But I will be. You deserve that, and I’m willing to give,”

You reach out to him, feeling his sturdy muscle beneath your hands for the first time in a while. “I trust you,”

He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. You’re sure that if you were, he’d kiss you. You want him to anyway.

When you get back to your apartment, slightly tipsy and light, you can’t help but think about him. Maybe this time, things will be different. You find yourself praying to any deity that might listen that they will be. You deserve for them to be different. He arrives a few moments later, standing with his hands in his pockets at your door.

And when he kisses you, you feel like you’re floating. There’s something here that wasn’t there before, and you can feel it. It’s electric, it feels like coming home. You hadn’t known how much you really missed him until his hands are on your waist, holding you steady because your body threatens to collapse. There’s a hunger behind his actions, one that claims to have missed you too, but he keeps it at bay. His lips are softer than you remember. You’re pulling him as close as you can get him before you morph into one.

“Missed this,” he says, moving to trail kisses down your jaw. You sigh. “Missed you,”

You’re fumbling with the button on his suit jacket, itching to push it off his shoulders. He lets you, and you splay your hands across his back. He’s leaving bruises across your chest, blue and purple blossoms that will certainly ache in the morning. You’re clawing for him, begging for more. He lets up on his assault on your neck and chest to lean his forehead against yours.

His breathing is labored, steady and strong in his chest beneath your hands. You feel alight.

“Leon,” you say, words whispered between kiss swollen lips. “Please,”

He sighs, heavy and gruff, before hauling you into his arms. There’s a fervent stumble to your room before you’re placed between plush pillows and blankets, and he’s above you. The first three buttons of his shirt have come undone, exposing the flesh of his clavicle.

“Tell me this is what you want,” he says, soft and sweet. You swallow thickly, nodding. “Use your words, sweetness,”

You could die right there. “Yes, Leon. I want this,”

He drops his head slightly, sighing. “Thank God,”

He bends to kiss you again, working to unbutton your slacks. Once they’re gone, he smooths his hand over your thigh gently, making you shiver. Leon was always gentle with you, but there’s a different tone to his movements now. He seeks to appease you, to satiate whatever hunger you may have regardless of his own. There’s love behind his behavior, and if you think about it too long, you’ll burst into tears.

He works you open slowly, gently, taking his time with you. You squirm against his fingers, mewling pretty sounds and reaching for him every chance you get. His hands are skilled between your legs, deft movements that nearly send you over the edge. Your desire is heady, completely intoxicating. He reaches up to push your shirt out of the way, fingertips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Leon,” you whimper. “Please. Don’t wanna wait anymore,”

You don’t have to ask twice. He’s stripped of his trousers before you can even blink. It almost makes you laugh. You’ve barely touched him. He rolls you onto your stomach, pulling you back toward him for better access. He smooths a hand down your back affectionately.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, aligning himself between your legs. “So good f’me,”

You sigh desperately as he eases into you, relief and pleasure flooding your senses. You feel like you’re going to explode. He bottoms out, leaning over to hover above your ear. His breath is hot against your skin, a tickling sensation that electrocutes you to your toes. His hands hold your hips gently as he begins to pump into you. His pace is steady, easy going against the fervor of the room. You choke on a moan. Your fingers curl into the sheets, searching for purchase.

It doesn’t take long for the coil to build in your stomach, begging to burst with each thrust. You’re sighing against the sheets, breathy moans that twist around your ears and dissipate into the air. Involuntarily, the thread snaps, and your orgasm washes over you in pulses. You feel yourself clench around him.

“That’s it, baby,” Leon coos, squeezing at your hips. “Doin’ so well. I’ve got you,”

His hips stutter, and just as the pleasure of your orgasm wains, you feel him pull out of you. Warmth coats your back as he comes undone, choking back moans with his fist. You’re breathing heavily, barely able to open your eyes. He disappears for a moment to fetch a towel. He wipes your back clean, placing a delicate kiss between your shoulder blades. You shiver. He lays beside you, barely touching you.

“Did you mean what you said?” you ask between labored breaths. He glances at you. “About being what I deserve?”

He pauses for a moment. You worry that things have already started to crumble. “I meant it. I want to be what you deserve,”

He already was. Always has been

[littlenighttales]

If you’ve been here for a minute, you know the drill. Spoilers for chapter 4 of The Sounds of Nightmares, writing my thoughts as I listen to it for the first time (+ some extra edits in the parenthesis for extra thoughts on it after a few extra listens.)

So

Here we go. E4. Go. Go listen to this before reading this.

The Sounds of Nightmares

Two of a Kind

Yeah… so this one gets a bit philosophical at the beginning. Going on about duality and whatnot. Also have I mentioned how the main theme for this series absolutely slaps? Because it’s very good.

So Noone’s outside a reunion, but she can’t go in. It’s a bunch of happy kids outside playing and laughing. Otto gets Noone cake from it though (:

Apparently the room has a two way mirror, so they can look out but not in. Creepy. Otto spills the beans on the creepy disappearance. I’ll go ahead and mention I’m glad I don’t have to rewrite my happy ending story.

Obviously Noone starts freaking out about just straight up getting yeeted into what I’d dare compare to hell on Earth. She thought before they were just nightmares. But… nope.

Noone hates being alone, Otto reassures her a bit. He’s not seeming like a bad guy here lately. Just… having a bit of selfish-selfless motives. Doing sort of bad things for someone himself, but more for someone he knows. Does that make sense?

Wherever Noone was, there were happy kids! Carnival. LN3 teasers? But this is Little Nightmares, so I’m fully expecting the poop/fan collision within seconds.

The kids start talking more like teenagers, a bit weird. Suspecting we’ll see the “I don’t want to grow up” bit from Noone again. A kid named Rusty takes Noone for a ride- Ferris wheel. Also sky boats.

Rusty and his friends aren’t fans of being there. They’re basically slaves. Figures the bad news would come. Happy time lasted longer than expected.

Rebellion is planned. Noone gets assigned to lookout.

What the frick. Rusty sounding like he’s plotting his own death.

They stop talking about the “nightmare” to talk about going to the Nowhere. He opens up a little bit about CiCi. Noone figures out why Otto has been working with her like this. Finds out about his motives. She’s uncomfortable. But. He. Keeps. Pushing.

Noone mentions that the people of this world have distorted faces. Carnival guests a lot like the Maw guests. Definitely near or at the Carnival of LN3, I think

Magic show made Noone forget she’s a lookout. Mentions it’s like she’s under a spell. Ferryman is back?

Nope. It’s the carnival owner? He’s got no eyes. And a dummy made of a kid(?), maybe an adult? Noone says it looks like a smaller man. It sounds like it could be a Chuckie moment.

Noone tries so hard to warn the other kids.

And that dummy is definitely a possessed one. Dang, Chuckie moment.

Noone has a panic attack, some serious PTSD, sounds like ):

Someone hug the poor kid. Get that child a fluffy goat kid to hug!

Otto mentions the Ferryman by that name rather than Candleman. He’s all the more determined to go to the Nowhere. I know this is the same length as the other episodes, but it feels so much shorter!! Argh! It’s gonna be a long wait for next week! (Hey, future me here! Yeah, so I wrote this on the spot the day it was released, and yeah… still a long wait as of Saturday lol)

Good episode, but E3 is still the best so far imo.

We’ll probably see Noone get reverse-raptured (for lack of a better term) again next episode, maybe Otto finds his way to follow her.

[jmflowers]

My dash has been a bit sad lately, as if we’re all simultaneously going through a shift in our lives that’s making us feel off-kilter. So, in pursuit of finding the good in my own life…

Gratitude Challenge!

Here are 10 things I’m grateful for and/or proud of myself for accomplishing since the start of 2023 (and/or in the last year if 5 months is too short a period of time for your brain). Please feel free to play along!

1. I finished college with a 4.0GPA after 3 years of hard work. I can’t wait to walk across the convocation stage in June. (And I’m the first in my family to have a diploma from a post-secondary institution!)

2. I directed a large scene in a short film as part of the graduating class’ final production. It was difficult and exciting and we were able to work with cinema-level equipment. I’m so incredibly proud of what my team and I were able to accomplish. (3 7/8 pages in 3 hours!)

3. When I started to feel my mental health deteriorating back in February, I sought support and counselling to help myself cope. Being honest about the pressures I have been facing for years is allowing me to place necessary boundaries as those pressures resurface. Taking care of yourself is difficult in this industry, but making choices to hike and run and exercise when possible are other great ways I’ve been protecting my overall well-being.

4. I completed another large piece of fiction that required several weeks of work and attention, with additional background efforts to fully form two of my own original characters. I am really proud that they read fleshed out and honest alongside characters that are already known from the source material.

5. I became an aunt again two times over. I was able to adjust my school schedule in order to be present with E as C was arriving, and then spend the first week of C’s life with them both. Once I finished school, I made the time to go meet L as well and spend time with her mum, one of my oldest friends. My first nephew is due to arrive any day now.

6. When situations were uncomfortable, I made conscious choices to leave and excuse myself from the discomfort or actively stay and rewrite the traumatic memories that were making me uncomfortable. Having the power over my reactions in situations that make me feel out of control is wildly liberating. I look forward to working on that more as I continue to grow.

7. I’ve leaned into being vulnerable more often in the last 5 months than ever before in my life. It’s terrifying every single time and yet I keep doing it.

8. I read a book a day one week when I was feeling really anxious, as a coping mechanism. I haven’t read that fast or that consistently since I was a teenager. I can’t wait to do it again.

9. I started practicing writing amidst changing locations and constant distractions with the three sentence fic challenge (while TAing). I had a lot of fun and got some interesting stuff out of it. I’m really looking forward to writing a bunch more again, especially in less-than-ideal conditions.

10. I won a scholarship! That was elected by the teaching administration I was working alongside at my college. The money, whenever I get it, will be really beneficial to help pay off my growing debt.

Consider this a formal tagging for anyone who would like to do this, too! I’m going to call out @lacallemojada, @cuteasducks9, @slipperygaloshes, @drlaurenb, @englishstrawbie, @trying-to-get-somewhere-real, @thebroken--soul, and @heyfarfallina

[myfairkatiecat]

Katie, this Ask is going to be much less organized, so I'm very sorry. If you think I've forgotten something, don't hesitate to correct me. I believe the Ask for Bod's game was"

🥰/😂/😭/❓ And then 🤩 for Merlin because you said you're getting back into that!

😔/😍 And 📖 for "Rewriting Destiny", since I'm still working my way through it

I hope this one works out, and I hope you are doing well, my friend!! Happy Penultimate day of being the year you are <3 <3 <3

Thank you so much for resending this! *glares at tumblr* this app sometimes. Removing people’s blogs, deleting random drafts…

Anyway *ahem* thank you for the ask!

—

🥰 a fluff WIP snippet

So. I don’t write enough fluff 😅, so I literally searched “TMBS” in my google docs and scanned through old fics and I found this thing I wrote when I was 12 about the books, and it’s surprisingly cute for something I wrote when I was twelve. (Warning: if you want to wear gen-goggles, the opposite of shipping-goggles, go ahead, because little Katie was a HUGE Kaynie shipper.) The characters are 17-18 bc little Katie felt so mature writing older teenagers.

Fun fact: little Katie googled common college application questions to write this fic. And now present Katie is literally answering that exact question for a college application. Time flies 😂

Here’s a snippet!

—

“Miss Perumal said you’ve been up here all day,” Kate said in the doorway.

Reynie looked up when he heard her voice. “Oh! Yeah. That’s because I’m working on my applications. It’s quiet up here.”

“Oh, I get that,” Kate said, making her way over to his desk. “But… all day?”

“I have to submit them soon if I want to be considered for scholarships!”

“‘Soon’ being November. Which is two months away.” Kate crossed her arms. “You need to relax! It would be good for you.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Reynie sighed in defeat. “I’m not getting anywhere with this anyway. I can’t figure out how to word anything.”

“You have to be kidding!” Kate exclaimed. “You write more eloquently than anyone I know. Your letters are far more interesting than some classics I’ve read.”

“Then you must not have been reading the right classics,” Reynie said with a self deprecating laugh. “Or you just like me better than you like Charles Dickens.”

Kate laughed melodiously. “I do like you better than I like him,” she admitted. “But then again, there’s not many people I like more than you.”

Something about Kate’s smile made Reynie’s cheeks heat up, and he coughed. “That’s… high praise. Especially for someone who can’t figure out what to write about how I ‘contribute’ to society? I don’t have any good contributions.”

Kate blinked. “Are you serious?”

—

Let me know if you think I should post the whole version. I know this fandom is very gen focused and that fic is very shippy, and also written by a middle schooler, even if that middle schooler was me 😅😅

😂 a funny or crack WIP snippet

—

“This is what people in the future consider entertainment?”

“It makes me want to vomit,” Constance agreed, having very conflicting feelings about agreeing with Curtain on something.

“Specifically all the pink.” Curtain shuddered.

Constance gasped, affronted. “Take that back.”

Curtain looked over at her, momentarily surprised, before glancing at her outfit, which was in fact a very similar color scheme as the one this “Barbie” character preferred. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Constance narrows her eyes. “Yes, you will.”

Curtain held his ground, crossing his arms and saying, in true four year old fashion, “Or what?”

—

I put my best angst one on bods’ ask, so check that out for angsty content!! So now onto…

🤩 a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from [Merlin]

So Sophie, I just want to say, I am SO HONORED that despite the fact that you aren’t even in the fandom, you actually like to read my writing for it 🥹🥹

My best Merlin dialogue is actually already published, so I’m bending the rules a little here!

—

“...Arthur,” he whispered. “You know that I have called you the Once and Future King. That means… more than you realize. More than you possibly can realize. You truly are destined to be the greatest king this land has ever known,” he said quietly, the words Merlin had said so many times before taking on a new meaning. “It has been prophesied. You are the fulfillment of that prophecy.

“But there is another piece. The Once and Future King can not achieve this alone… he needs his other half. The other side of the coin. The greatest and most powerful sorcerer to ever live, who will walk beside the king as his protector. The druids call him Emrys.” Merlin took a deep breath. “But I prefer the name Merlin.”

Silence fell, even nature entirely still as though it sensed the gravity of this revelation. “I’m sorry,” Arthur choked out, “did I just hear you refer to yourself as the ‘greatest and most powerful sorcerer to ever live?’”

—

Had to include Arthur’s reaction! It’s from my fic “you wouldn’t know a good liar if you saw one (that is, after all, the point)” (hyperlinks are FAILING ME)

And now for the ones MEANT for published works!

😔 published lines or section of a fic that was super sad, angsty or difficult to write?

Mhm. This is from a fic I wrote for a prompt from @mvshortcut’s ask game a while back, for @nobody33333333!!!

—

“Who hurt you, Nathaniel, so that you would isolate yourself like this? Turn your back on the entire world, caring about it only to control it?” Nicholas said, so quietly it could have been a whisper, but here in this blindingly white room it echoed so loudly it could have been spoken into a microphone.

“I make my own choices, Nicky,” and oh he wishes he could reach out into the air and take the nickname back like it was something tangible, but he knew he couldn’t. He blamed Nicholas for calling him by his old name, calling him Nathaniel, a reminder of the child he once had been and had finally and gloriously escaped being.

“I know you do, Nathaniel, but I knew you. You made me presents on my birthday, and caught me whenever I had narcoleptic episodes and quietly punished the kid who knocked me out on Easter a few springs before we were separated and I look at you now and I know that someone else had to have done something because you didn’t get here on your own!”

—

From “dont you ever wonder if I’m ok (after all you put me through)”!!!

😍 published lines or a section of a fic that you loved writing?

YES YES YES so I loved writing “SQ Comes Home” and this was my favorite part to write!!!

—

“Now aren’t you glad I didn’t let you drive,” Rhonda was saying.

“If you hadn’t been there, none of this would have happened.”

“It sounds like none of this would have happened if you didn’t try to brainwash the world,” the boy muttered.

Rhonda and Nathaniel both turned to him in stunned silence. “I like you,” Rhonda said eventually, a smirk on her face.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, it was very sassy and I loved it.”

“I didn’t,” Nathaniel muttered.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Besides, even if you managed to avoid mentioning your villainous schemes, at some point you were going to have to tell your son you had narcolepsy,” Rhonda said to Nathaniel.

Your son.

Your son.

Your son.

SON?????

—

And finally!

📖 a published snippet from [rewriting destiny]

Again, I CANNOT BELIEVE you like my writing so much that you care about my fics from fandoms you aren’t even in??? Star Wars AND Merlin! Do you know how happy that makes me?? IMMENSELY happy. I love you so much Sophie!!!

I didn’t want to spoil major plot points that are specific to the fic, so even though this is a major moment it’s the one thing you can always count on happening in ALL of my Merlin fics at some point or other: a magic reveal!

—

“Ic þé wiþdrífe!” Anakin heard Merlin’s voice shout, and Ahsoka suddenly lost her balance before flying into a wall. Anakin looked up to see the golden glow still fading from Merlin’s eyes as he ran over to him. “Are you alright?’

“I’m fine,” Anakin said as he moved to his feet. He retrieved his lightsaber from where it laid on the ground a few feet away.

“I’m not going to lie, that was kind of epic,” Merlin said, almost apologetically. “I’ve just never seen you actually fight with your… your light-saber before.”

Anakin smiled. “It’s okay. I just…” he looked over at Ahsoka. “I wish it hadn’t been necessary,” he said softly.

Pity was in Merlin’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he said quietly, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you for using your magic,” Anakin said gratefully. “You saved me from getting killed by my own apprentice.”

A loud voice cleared his throat. Anakin and Merlin both turned to see the cause of the interruption - the distraction that had given Ahsoka an advantage. The people who had burst into the room.

“You,” Arthur declared, pointing at Merlin, “and you,” he added, his finger shifting over to point at Anakin, “have a whole hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

—

Thank you so so much for the ask, and then for sending it AGAIN when tumblr made my life difficult. You’re the best!!!

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Seeing those posts about wanting to do MHA rewrites gets me to admit that I want to do my own take as well at some point! But I came to ask about something else.

There’s another writing project that I have been wanting to do for a while now. It involves the Izuku Solo Arc, namely a rewrite of Class 1-A vs Izuku.

I HATE it. I HAAAATE it SOOOO much. A lot of it has already been covered here on previous posts on the blog, so I won’t waste time listing them all (plus I already covered some of it on a post I made long ago).

In short, I want to write it to where only some of Class 1-A go and meet with Izuku, they talk, and it ends to where Izuku doesn’t go back to UA, but instead continues to go solo, only this time, he’s getting support not only from his classmates, but UA, the other hero schools and pro heroes.

The main thing I am so hesitant on is getting Izuku’s reasoning and mindset right. Perhaps I am reading too much or misreading it all together, but it feels like the issues with Midoriya are simple and yet a lot of them about were thrown at me all at once and I have no idea what the main source of his issues are. And seeing how the narrative during that arc twist it so that he looks like he’s in the wrong and the godsend Bakugo’s in the right of course, I can’t find myself to trust the story as a reliable narrator for what Midoriya’s problems are. If that makes sense.

And seeing how you have given good ideas to others on their stories, I would like your opinion or idea on how to approach it and what the main issue of Izuku is. Because that way, I can focus more on who will be in the team that goes out to find him, and who can say what to help Midoriya. I want him to gain the closure he deserves and the knowledge and support of the people that care and treasure him. I want that feeling he had when Uraraka stood up to him at UA. I have a few other candidates depending on the awnser , but Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki are definites. And if I come across as too all over the place, please tell me and I’ll try again.

(And to anyone reading this, if you have ideas you think would help, please share! I want to do this and Midoriya JUSTICE).

It’s actually pretty funny you bring this up cause I was recently thinking about this too and how I wanted this arc to play out in my own rewrite 😂.

So first off, I 100% agree with you. The reunion was done so poorly and I absolutely hated it.

Second, let me discuss his motives for a second. Izuku leaves U.A to draw AFO away from his friends and family. AFO wants his quirk and he knows this. He knows AFO will stop at nothing to get his wish and Izuku is willing to leave everyone and everything he knows and loves behind because he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. Let’s also remember the fact Izuku’s a teenager, a teenager who is fearing for his life, but more importantly, the life of his friends. He saw Katsuki get skewered and “die”, he saw his other classmates damaged and wounded. He saw/heard that several pro heroes die, including Midnight, a teacher he most likely had class with. He doesn’t want anyone else to die again, and he knows that he’ll either have to stop AFO himself or he’ll have to disappear. He ends up doing the latter, vanishing from his old life with no support and being used as bait to attract AFO. This is a mentally scared child who, overcome with his emotions, has made a decision that is poorly thought out yet rational at the same time. He sees that AFO is after him, knows that AFO has no mercy, and decides that he’ll lead him on a wild goose chase away from everyone he cares about. However, he being the hero that he is, still is willing to go out anyone he sees needs it, something that the villains in this arc take advantage of. Also, keep in mind that the horrors don’t end for Izuku. He watches Lady Nagant get blown up, is physically and mentally exhausted (not having slept for like three days), and finds himself powerless against a villain who’s using civilians as puppets.

So why is all of this relevant? Izuku knows what AFO is willing to do, he sees the types of people he’s employed, and from everything he’s been told about AFO, the man will do far worse. Secondly, AFO is not only stockpiled numerous quirks in his (120+ year) lifetime, but can steal quirks, making him quite literally a counter to everyone who isn’t an OFA user. With one touch he can yoink someone’s quirk. Izuku knows this. Sure, 1-A’s filled with many promising individuals with amazing quirks and talent, but that’s not enough to fight against a man who’s got the strength of All Might, more intellect than Nezu, and more versatility than all of 1-A combined. Izuku also knows that his class is his age and has also been exposed to almost the same horrors he has. These are teenagers who still have a lot to learn and still have many years ahead of them. The same can be said for Izuku obviously but he’s willing to sacrifice his own life to save others, so he’s not taking these two things into consideration. He’s just thinking to himself “I don’t want my friends to continue facing these things because I’m around. The best way to protect them is to leave”.

Finally, let’s talk about Katsuki’s speech. He thinks Izuku’s looking down on him and the entire class because they can’t compete with OFA, which is is completely false… partly. Yes, Izuku says they’ll die, but remember that AFO can freely yoink any of their quirks and render them quirkless, and seeing as 1-A possess almost no weapons, protection, and aren’t like Batman and Iron Man, it’s safe to say they’ll be sitting ducks if that happens. At least Izuku’s quirk won’t get stolen, so he can definitely slug around with AFO and is best equipped to deal with him. He’s not looking down on them, he’s being realistic. Hori tries to frame this as growth for Katsuki but fails as he forgets his MC’s reasoning. Katsuki looks down on people because they’re weaker than him and considers himself the best. That’s it. Izuku isn’t looking down on anyone here, rather he’s being realistic and is trying to save his classmates from having to undergo further harm. Katsuki‘s motives are selfish. Izuku’s motives are pure, based on information he’s learned and events he has witnessed.

We then get to the battle and we see that Izuku is 100% correct. Many pro-heroes die and have their quirks stolen by AFO. His classmates suffer grievous wounds in battles which have amounted to nothing (Katsuki “dying” without even making a dent against Tomura, Kyouka losing an earphone jack against AFO in a battle that was really just AFO toying with them (and included the current Number 1 hero), and Shoto and Dabi’s fight also having gone nowhere (with Dabi even fleeing the scene to fight Endeavor). U.A’s whole plan hinged on Izuku being where Tomura was, and you know what happened? He was separated and the entire plan went to shit. Everything Izuku was afraid might happen DID happen. Now, that’s not to say that Izuku going alone would’ve produced better results. He’d most likely get tag teamed by Tomura and AFO and he and whatever pro heroes followed him would get wrecked. However it would save his classmates from having to witness the horrors of AFO once more, which was his goal to begin with.

Izuku’s plan hinged on being separate from everyone and to lure AFO away. Obviously it was a half-baked plan, but Izuku was hoping to keep the destruction away from others and perhaps even trap AFO in a situation where Izuku can call on some pro-heroes to ambush him. However, this left him without his support system. The only people he could even come close to relying on were the pros monitoring him, and to be honest, they did jack shit. They didn’t give him a place to rest, they didn’t aid in his battles, and they hardly monitored him in the first place. Without a solid support system, he couldn’t rest. What he needs is someone who’ll help convince him to allow them to carry some of his burden. However, he also needs someone who will listen to him. The huge problem I had with 1-A’s confrontation is that they only had one goal in mind and they mindlessly ignored Izuku’s concerns or reasoning. Katsuki completely undermines and belittles him once more and his classmates don’t take the time to try to understand him. Yes, it’s a large battle, but one that wouldn’t have started if they took some time to talk. Instead, they came ready to fight, even having some sort of chair they were going to handcuff him to. That’s not really the behavior I’d be receptive to if I’m exhausted and scared for my life. Now, obviously Izuku will still be hesitant at first and it’ll take him a lot of convincing to make him feel even slightly comfortable with some of his classmates tagging along, but the key thing here is that they have to listen to Izuku, understand where he’s coming from, and allow him to make the choices, including what he feels best would take down AFO, while also making sure they keep him grounded (like voicing any disagreements they may have and offer solutions, etc.). This is a tough time for Izuku and he’s hell bent on doing this on his own, and it’s up to his classmates to not only aid him, but offer him the support he needs. U.A was a disaster specially BECAUSE no one listened to him.

[aisururuby]

The wounds that lead to a fateful incounter

This is a crossover between Who made me a princess and The Twins New Life

Note: This is a rewrite of 'How'd they meet: Athanasia x Arhen

Two years before the canon storyline, Arhen and Arienne ran into a forest to avoid the servants after they threw broken glass at Arhen. With her brother injured, she wanted to seek help but how? When the servants who were sent to Derolina castle to raise and serve them, refused too? When their own mother, who hates them and curses their existence? Hell even the empire they’re prince and princess to, hates them due to being illegitimate children . . . . So who would help them? No matter how much they desire it, they can’t leave. After all, they know nothing of this world. . . Just three years ago, they were just two normal teenagers in Korea in high school until they died in an accident and woke up in a place that didn’t want them.

In the mist of those thoughts, they heard something snap near one of the trees. Thinking it was a stranger, they tried to flee only to be stopped by the sound of meowing. Wait, meowing? Turned to see a small figure walking towards them under the moonlight. Revealing someone familiar to them, a tiger cub with red fur. “So-won?”, said Arienne.

So-won, Arienne’s pet(?), was a tiger cub the twins found after their 2nd birthday when they entered the forest for the first time trying to flee from the servants and they couldn’t go to Verbena, who Rurahelle took with her on an “errand”. The twins got lost in the forest and were found by So-won who lured them back to Derolina. She always seems to know where to lead be it to food or temporary shelter like a guardian they needed in their new life. Other than their elder sister, Verbena, only So-won seemed to care but they weren’t adults.

“So-won? You’re here again . . . . can you help us?” Arienne asks desperately. Holding on to Arhen, she can hear him breathing heavily from the wounds that were put on his body. “Please! The servants threw glass at Arhen and his wounds aren’t healing!” exclaimed Arienne. So-won looked towards Arhen and for a brief second Arienne could have swore she saw guilt in her eyes. Needless to say, the tiger cub tug on Arienne’s nightgown and encourage her to follow her lead. Limping against Arienne and trying to keep his eyes open, Arhen grew tired but was determined to stay awake. He didn’t want to burden Arienne with this since it was “his fault” for asking for a glass of water.

“Arienne . . . . Arienne?” Called Arhen. No response. “Arienne!”Exclaimed Arhen. Arienne was so absorbed by trying to focus on helping Arhen, she couldn’t hear him calling her “name”. “Damn it, Sun-Hi! Answer me!” Shouted Arhen. Arienne froze at Arhen’s outburst. “Sun-Hi, just where are we going?” asked Arhen after he finally got her attention.

“I- I don’t know but So-won usually lead us to where we need something, so-” Arienne tries to explain frantically. “Yes but when we get there, will we actually get help?” Arhen said with a sigh. Arienne paused for a moment, ‘Will where we’re going actually help us?’ She looked down to see So-won had also stopped and looked at the twins with a concerned stare. She wasn’t sure why but she felt like they should trust and follow So-won this time. So-won has never let them down and the only hope they have after all that’s what she named her after, ‘hope’.

With a deep breath, Arienne answered Arhen.”Well, Geon, I think we should continue to follow So-won. She never failed us yet and besides you need medical treatment!” said Arienne. Arhen and So-won stared at Arienne in disbelief, questioning her thought process. sigh “Fine, let's go, it’s not like we have any great ideas,” Arhen said. “Great! Okay, So-won led the way!” exclaimed Arienne. So-won looked at both Arienne and Arhen and saw that they were ready to continue to the location.

Three minutes later

They arrived at a clearing in the forest and in front of a portal So-won created. “Wait, she just wants us to go through this . . . . portal? Where does this even lead to?” Arhen said panting. His condition was getting worse. “So-won are you sure about this?” asked Arienne. So-won looks up at Arienne and nods. She began gently putting Arienne towards the portal with Arhen in toe. And enter the portal they did.

Thum Arienne finds herself on the grass of a garden that looks well maintained. Confused, she looked around and realized that Arhen was missing and so was So-won. Panicked, she looked for him until she found herself in the corridor of what looks like a castle but it couldn’t be Derolina castle as this place looked clean more so than that castle.

“A goddess?” Arienne heard Arhen’s voice and ran towards the direction where she heard Arhen’s voice. She ends up finding Arhen passed out in the arms of a little girl who looks around her age. The little girl looked up at Arienne, surprised to see her as well. “What the- another one? Who are you? Is this kid with you- wait, is he bleeding?!” asked the little girl. Weird why is this toddler talking like an adult?

“Crap, how’d this happen?!” shouted the little girl. Arienne woke up from her daze from hearing ‘crap’ from a toddler. Realized she was wasting time, “Is there anyone who can help Arhen? A mean adult threw glass at him!” said Arienne. “Who the he-” the little girl stopped as if it looked like she finally registered what she been saying. clears throat We have the best doctors here! We should go-”

“Athanasia!”

Both girls shook and turned around to a woman with black curly hair and brown eyes walking towards them. “Mama!” shouted the- Athanasia

“Athanasia, who are- wait what’s wrong with that little boy.” said Athanasia’s mother(?) She leaned over to see Arhen was clearly bleeding and breathing heavily. “Oh God, What happened?!” said Athanasia’s mother(?) She then picks up Arhen from Athanasia.

She called over some maids to come watch over Arienne and Athanasia while she takes Arhen to their doctor but Arienne panics that they might do something to him if she doesn’t go. However, one of the maids calmed her down and brought her to a room with Athanasia while awaiting news about Ahren.

Now that she’s actually looking at her, she realizes that Athanasia has blonde hair like her and Arhen but looking at it more closely she doesn’t have golden blonde hair like the imperial family of Yuriana. Her hair was sunflower blonde but then she saw her eyes and was taken aback. Her eyes were jeweled blue eyes. Wait . . . . jeweled blue eyes? Why does that description sound familiar?

Somewhere in a tree near a villa, a tiger cub is watching two blonde headed little girls talk to one another. sigh ‘I hope this was the best option . . . . I can’t really help her and brother in this form. Where’s my partner?’

[seldnei]

Taking stock of the writing: 2023

For any new followers: this is my annual post about my writing in the past year.  This is purely for my own mental health–the tag says “seldnei is tired of feeling like a slacker” for a reason.  Please feel free to skip.

So what did I accomplish in 2023?

Well, it was a helluva year, again.  We’ve acquired another teenager, with all that entails, which is a good thing overall but definitely added some chaos.  My boss retired earlier than expected, so day job went sideways for a while.  My cousin died, which was entirely unexpected.  My father died, which was both more and less unexpected.  Also the eldest BFF’s mom died, which was not traumatic for me, per se, but being able to spend a week with him was, like acquiring Q, a good thing surrounded by chaos.  Oh, and Z got his ADHD diagnosis, which has triggered some interesting realizations about the assumed neurotypicality of everyone in the household.  We are, in fact, that family who said, “But that can’t be a ‘disorder’; everyone is like that, right?”

I am exhausted, and my brain feels not only full but occasionally like it’s eating itself with self-analysis.

BUT.  I am here.  And I wrote things.

Stories/Poems/Etc.

Finished the second Exorcist story, and decided it did need to be mashed up with the first one.  I dunno, it’s still cuter than I like. 

Did the requested rewrite on the Teachout camel story, and got rejected again (I vaguely recall this as another rewrite request, but I could be wrong and can’t be arsed to dig through my email right now). I kind of think this editor and I have fundamentally different ideas as to what these stories are.  Keep this in mind as I get into future plans, btw, as it was a contributing factor.

Wrote some more TMA fanfic.

“And the Forest Sings of Secrets and the Dead” for FUCKIT, which prompted the best review of all time from Q: “What the fuck, Laura?”

“The Modern Eurydice: with Leto in the Mountains of Delos,” also for FUCKIT, which is probably my favorite thing I wrote this year.  I really hope there are more modern Eurydice stories somewhere in my head, because I loved writing this one and the first one.

Poetry:

“Elpis at the Farmer’s market” for FUCKIT

“4am, April 2023,” also for FUCKIT, the poem my husband wants to frame and put on the wall

Random bits and bobs in my notebook

I wrote three podcast scripts because I really want to make a podcast. 

Script one is a monologue type thing, continuing my explorations of ghosts and terrible mothers.

Scripts two and three are the first two episodes of a short series that adapts the not!Tempest/not!Mosquito Coast/not!Island of Dr Moreau thing I’ve been fucking around with for like four years now.  I think three more scripts and I’ll have the series completed, and then I can turn my attention to things like casting and recording and editing and hosting and posting and dear lord what the fuck.

 I started a bunch of other things:

The baseball/ghost romance novella, where I am trying out iterative outlining.

Some abortive attempts to find my way into my post-apocalypse cunning folk thing

A start and some notes for a gothic horror story that I probably will get back to in a while (watch this space in, like, three years)

Other Stuff

“An Oral History: The Dead Queen at 1223 Murchison Row” sold and came out in Artifice & Craft. 

I created my author website, which I’m still very pleased with.  Also did some blogging, but not as much as I would have liked.  Still, not sure when I had time?

Submitted things sporadically.

Kept up my morning writing routine, though it did have some disruptions here and there and the time got a little compressed.  But the biggest thing, I think, is that I kept going.  There was a lot of stuff going on in my life this year, and I wrote through it all.

Novel and Goals for 2024

Okay, this is where we get into the stuff that makes me nervous.

So the novel is on a second round of reading at a publisher.  This is taking forever, but the publisher has also posted periodically that they’re still working their way through subs, and frankly, I am entirely willing to let them do their thing because, as I said last year, I think this might be the absolute worst time to try and find an agent or publisher.  This is one of like two sparks of interest I have gotten for a book that a professional editor says is very good, so … yeah, we will let that lie.  Additionally, I’ve been reading some stuff from established trad authors who are also  having issues selling things, and I’m like … uuuggghhh.

Bearing that in mind … I’m going to start looking at and dipping my toe into self-publishing this year.  Guys, I am so tired of thinking about what an editor might or might not find appealing enough to publish; I want to write my weird little stories and have people read them.  I don’t even care if it’s just my friends and I only sell, like, three copies of anything.  I have long since resigned myself to never being a full-time writer, so while extra cash would be nice, it’s not something I desperately need.  (That said, I am going to be selling my work because it’s work, so.  But I have thoughts about discount codes and freebies, so we’ll see how it goes.)  I’d like to be able to hire an editor, commission covers, that kind of thing, though, so I’m also thinking about starting a Patreon to help fund those aspects of it, with rewards and all that good stuff.

So I can publish the novellas and short story collections, and if the publisher passes on my manuscript, I can publish the Teachout book and start writing the second one.

This is the scary part, though.  Am I too scattered to make something like this work?  What if no one has any interest? What about pirates (both cyber and sailor)?  Will I annoy people with self-promo?  Will people in my circle think less of me?  (Do I care about the people who would think less of me for doing this?) How will this affect my other writing?  OH GOD HOW DOES THIS AFFECT MY TAXES?!

I think I can do it.  I might ask y’all for cheerleading here and there.  I have a planner and Mr. Seldnei.

Every time I think about it and get scared, I think second Teachout book no matter what happens and I’m like … yeah. Yeah, I think I need to at least try.

So, goals for 2024:

FUCKIT subs

finish this baseball thing

Podcast

Patreon (?)

Self-publishing

AAAAAAAAAAA.

[pattysplaceofplaces]

Where in the World is Mon Cher [The Rewrite]

Prologue 

[Author’s Note: Since we don’t know about Antonio’s canon backstory I made one up, enjoy! Expect chapters every Sunday. I’m hella excited to be rewriting this and giving it a better storyline. Also the other chapters will be longer, this is just a prologue]

Tw: Talks of violence

     Antonio was a lot different from when he was a kid. He had a lot to be angry about as a child. Someone would say or do something and he would start to feel the insatiable itch in his hands as his fingers twitched. Then he would come back home with bruised knuckles. 

Home was nothing more than a farmhouse turned orphanage in Sonora, Mexico. A place known for its beaches, farmlands, and mining operations. One thing he ended up learning about from a young age was responsibility. He learned how to spread himself thin but never break. Antonio was one of the oldest kids there so it was his responsibility to take care of all the younger kids. No one would assume that the teen sewing clothes and dolls for little children was the same as the one who was capable of breaking his teacher’s nose.

After learning about this concerning behavior the owner of both the orphanage and the farmland thought of a way to help Antonio find an outlet to replace combat.

“Pick the weeds outside” 

“Plant these seeds.”

“Knead this dough.” 

“Stitch this back up.”  

“Fold the laundry.” 

Learning how to use his hands in such a way brought peace to the troubled teen. He would look at the fields, he would see the things he planted and he couldn’t help but feel proud. He couldn’t believe he planted those months ago with his very own hands. 

Now Antonio is an adult. He’s matured past being a teenager that was once angry at the world. He’s learned to let things go, to no longer dwell on the past. He no longer stopped to think about why his parents had him only to dump him on the orphanage doorstep the moment he was born, or why the most foolish thing was worth scrutiny. 

As an adult he tried to remember the philosophy of “going with the flow.” He learned not to hate people because everyone was just a pawn in a bigger game and he was no different. No one really belonged to themselves, perhaps they belonged to their family, their company, or even their country but no one was free. So how could he hate someone when they weren’t even their own person? 

As much as he tries to keep this philosophy in mind something still bothers him: The recent years of his life he can’t remember. It’s so strange to him. Strange to think that years of his life are just gone, years that he will never relive again. Antonio may go his whole life carrying that empty feeling of missing those years. 

Antonio takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the present. Theres no reason to dwell on a past he can’t even remember, right? 

[sunbeamedskies]

Heretic/Writer's Guilt

I had my first ever movie-going experience in a foreign country!!

Ever since the trailer first came out, I knew I wanted to see Heretic really badly. Hugh Grant as the villain? Commentary about spirituality/religion? A24? Sign me the fuck up!

It felt especially fitting to have my first cinematic experience in England be a movie starring Hugh Grant. He is such a legendary British actor, as well as one of the primary reasons American women romanticize British men

This post will contain no spoilers. I will make a part two with spoilers later

There have been moments here and there where I truly remember I am in England and my mind gets blown again. Going to a movie theater and seeing only British ads before the trailers start, coupled with seeing the British-style release dates (day-month-year) which follow every trailer, was one of those moments

Though I had a great time overall, I felt a slight dulling of emotions that used to happen a lot whenever I went out to see movies. It stems from a sadness caused by not writing enough- a variant of writer’s guilt. Lately I’ve been writing some, but have started to feel a bit bad because I’m still not writing regularly enough. Writing novels has been a goal of mine since I was little, and it is the most realistic path for me to someday write movies and shows

Unfortunately these days, it seems like screenplays rarely get made unless you’re already a famous actor or director. Even if a fledgling screenwriter is successful in getting a film made, it’s rare for others of theirs to get picked up often enough to have a steady career. I went back and forth in my head for years wondering if I should pursue being a novelist or screenwriter first. They were both equal dreams of mine, yet I wasn’t trying to actively achieve either. I had written books before (bad ones I wrote as a teenager- but hey! Still full books) and had no experience writing screenplays. I tried writing a couple, but it always felt a bit awkward to not write as many words as I do when writing stories. One day though, something hit me- I noticed that popular authors constantly had their novels adapted into shows and movies, and some were even allowed to write the screenplays for them. I had a lightbulb moment- this is how I can best achieve my dream! Ever since then, my focus has been on novels

I thought my longest partially-written screenplay was 40-50 pages, but I just looked it up and it’s 79! That’s one thing about writer’s guilt- oftentimes writers who are sad they haven’t written on a regular basis in a while have actually done more than they think they have. They write little pieces here and there which add up, forget they spent a few days writing a lot, etc. This screenplay is one I will alter a lot if I ever complete it. It’s nostalgic to read parts of it, though I haven’t read it in full yet. I’ll share a piece of it below, but be warned- this might be too cerebral/highbrow for some of you:

JANINE

(ecstatically)

No way! 3d porn?!  We have to watch it NOW!

CUT TO: 

Janine and Tom are sitting on the couch with 3D glasses on, excitedly watching the movie.  They’re sharing a bowl of popcorn.  There are moaning noises coming from the TV.

JANINE

He’s about to get a boner!

TOM

Watch out!

They both duck in unison.

TOM

Woo! That was a close one. 

JANINE

I never knew dodging boners could be so thrilling!

TOM

I think he’s about to blow!

They both dodge in unison.

I know, I know. There are too many metaphors about politics/climate change/the philosophical landscape of 1600’s Italy to count. I’m sorry if your feeble minds can’t comprehend it all

In all seriousness, this was going to be a silly, raunchy, Judd Apatow-esque romcom. Honestly, I really might rewrite it to be a genre-bender of some kind someday- who knows? There was about a decade where I barely wrote, but re-reading stuff like this reminds me I did write every rare once in a while. I wrote a whole 100,000 word book recently which failed to get me a literary agent, but I now recognize its flaws and plan to edit it heavily soon. It’s also a big turn off for agents to see a 100,000 word non-fantasy book by a potential debut author, so that hurt my odds from the start. But my latest novel is almost done, there are six or seven other novels I’ve written parts of, plus countless other ideas floating around my head. I need to do a better job of reminding myself about how far I’ve come instead of focusing on the negative

I wrote the above scene years ago before the rise of VR porn, by the way. Maybe it’s a sign I really am ahead of my time

Love,

J

[ovnijournal]

Fellas here we go.

What a long strange trip it’s been. I haven’t been particularly intentionally reflective in a while, but I’ve had no choice.

For the first time in years I find myself happy with the love I’ve built for myself.

Many of you might know I struggle with depression and have been in and out of therapy for about 9 years.

The truth is that I found myself shifting from a confident and headstrong young girl to a rather anxious young woman. I was loud, mean, and confidently opinionated as a child. I can’t begin to count how many times I yelled at someone until they stood down, only to find out days later I was in the wrong. These kind of changes happen when your unwavering confidence hurts people and you begin to see negative patterns. So you change in order to stop pushing people away. I wish I had had someone to coach me through this shift and, instead of telling me to become more palatable at 16, help me through my de-bitching journey without losing myself.

This change in personally I’ve been fighting for 9 years has caused so much anger and heartache. So much of it coming from realizing that homes are impermanent and communities are transient and so am I. And hermit crabs keep their homes on their back; it only made sense.

Through high school and moving to yet another new city I had no interest in discovering, I remember thinking “I won’t talk to anyone. I won’t make new friends. I’ll just graduate and move back home and everything will be like it was.”

Of course, life doesn’t let you go unnoticed. I did end up making some good friends, but I mostly avoided those around me. And the unfortunate cost of choosing to not talk to people but still being a kind person made it so everyone thought I was scared to speak. I didn’t have a problem with this, until my junior or senior year. It all blends together at this point.

Mentally, things were, how you say, horrible. I stopped going to school, taking care of myself, my room matched the mess in my head.

My father, being the kind man he is, reached out to my choir teacher asking for help. I loved choir. I’ve always loved to sing and still do. He mentioned the situation I was going through and asked if, maybe, through my favorite class, my teacher could create a safe space to keep me going in school at least enough to graduate. Te quiero, pa.

The results were not as desired. My choir teacher read the entire email to the class in my absence. Asked everyone to help little Gabi come out of her shell. I still wonder if it would have been better not to know that it had happened, though I’m grateful to have had a friend kind enough to share the truth. At least if I didn’t know, I could just think that mid-west people are nice in their weird way and go back to telling them to leave me alone.

You can imagine my nightmare coming back. My goal was to be unnoticed so I could leave as fast as possible. Now I had people I had no interest in talking to constantly checking in on me and infantilizing me. In your teenage years, it is very important to you to not been seen as a child.

This was the first time I felt others capable of yanking the pen from my hand to rewrite my story. It would not be the last.

Through college it happened less. I placed myself in the spaces I wanted to be in and made it known. I made new friends and hurt their feelings. Then they would hurt mine. I learned again to watch my sharp tongue. Friendship heartbreak is a different beast.

I asked myself for nights on end how I can be a kind person and say the things I do, think the things I think.

Took my brain and scrubbed and sanded and buffed it until smooth again. Drank and slept and wished for nothing to come.

Somehow managed to graduate college. That was hard. A story for another time.

Since then, my friends are scattered around the globe and I found the love of my life. Moved to a new city and made a community that accepts the weird, in-progress version of whatever the hell it is I am becoming. I still struggle with people’s perception of me. I still get angry when anyone perceives me, and the fear of returning to the angry girl who will say anything and kick and scream to hurt someone looms over me. It took me years to not let anger be the driving emotion in my decision-making.

Sometimes I say do it!!! But I don’t know if that part of me even exists anymore. A lot of years trying to fight the bitch allegations (actually read as 9 years of worsening depression and hopelessness) in my brain may have actually turned me into the pacifist I never knew I could be.

But peace feels good. Stability in my relationships feels good. Being able to get up and eat breakfast feels good. Showering, going to work, brushing my teeth, getting dressed on a consistent basis without feeling like I’ll have to sleep 20 hours to recover this energy feels good.

Years of confusion and I’m still growing and learning to regain parts of myself. But I finally feel happy again. I’m excited for life again and starting to feel, little by little, more connected to that young girl. There are still bad days. I am happy to say they are bad days and no longer bad weeks or months…or years.

As I write this, I’m unsure of my purpose in sharing. I guess I feel I’ve been silent too long.

Anyway. Thanks to all the kind and patient people who have taken the time to understand me and laugh with me. I appreciate you. Happy Friday.

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

OKAY here we are, all caught up! For now. I don’t have any buffer or anything really specific planned for the next few days. Wish me luck. So! This one is set probably like.. three-ish months? Into Volo getting pulled into the agency/under Eclipse’s wing? So yeah, Eclipse hasn’t done anything super serious yet, just messed with his head.

Warnings: ngl I have No Idea what to tag this one.

Whumpee having Issues, that are only being exacerbated by whumper, who isn’t hurting him physically quite yet but he sure isn’t good for Whumpee’s mental or emotional state. Emotional hurt no comfort I guess is what this is. You know when you look back at something really shitty you did and go “…oooohh no.” Yeah it’s that, that’s what this is

Anyway uh. I’m not super happy with how it turned out, this scene is supposed to come in between some other stuff whenever I actually pull everything together, BUT!!!! At least the first draft is written! So I can edit it and string it together with other stuff later!

But yeah, the context this needs is by this point, he’s aware that what he was trying (subjugate Arceus and rewrite history) was never going to work out, and he’s been a little aimless since then, not sure he has a purpose. And this is him kinda finding one!

(Poor guy has a traumatization arc at the same time as his redemption arc 😔 wish him luck he’s gonna need it)

Day 3: Shame

“GIRATINA!! STRIKE THEM DOWN!!!”

Volo sighs as he watches it play out. Again, again.

Four teenagers, twenty four Pokémon, and two gods; one present, one absent.

One teenager blinded by a dream of a world without suffering, the other three fighting for the right to exist.

Six Pokémon against eighteen, and then the playing field is leveled by the help of a god, but still the three teenagers won.

Three siblings, one angry, one upset, one cynical, watching as their flute changes into one that can summon Arceus, and one teenager, alone in the world, angry at the god he’d worshipped for abandoning him in every single time of need. Angry at the god who had helped him for failing.

He had lashed out, and now he was completely and utterly alone.

Three siblings finding their way back to the home they had protected while one teenager grieves the life he never got to live. Three siblings chasing their dreams and meeting their goals while one teenager is lost, stuck with nowhere else to go but away. But he can’t go away, because Hisui is his home. His broken, pain-filled home, full of the memories of his people.

They have everything, and he is left alone.

Three siblings growing up and becoming champions of their region, one teenager finding a strange device and traveling to another time.

To another dimension.

Would things have been different, had I not done all this? Would I have more than just myself, my Pokémon, and Eclipse to rely on?

He scrolls back in time.

Three siblings and one teenager meeting for the first time. A Pokémon battle, and two of the siblings became fast friends with the teenager.

And a few months later, he betrays them for nothing but a chance at a plan that never would have worked in the first place.

“GIRATINA!! STRIKE THEM DOWN!!!”

..He turns his holocomputer off and lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

..maybe Eclipse is right. I deserve to hurt for what I put those three through.

We were all teenagers, but I was older. They were 15. I was an adult. I should’ve known better- I tried to KILL them.

And my actions indirectly killed so many more..

He lets his eyes slip closed.

..I’m lucky I have Eclipse. At least he won’t hurt me, despite the fact that I deserve it. Not like so many of the others in this place would.

..I wonder if things would be different, had I called it all off.

I wish I could go back and stop it. But that would only create a paradox involving the Agency itself. It would only make everything worse, might actually break reality as a whole..

He rolls over, curling up on his side and hiding in the plush blankets.

..Maybe, if I hadn’t been born, the world would be better off.

Thousands dead, tens of thousands hurt, and SO MANY displaced throughout time and space.. All because of a dream that could never have worked.

I need to help them. It’s my fault they’re lost, after all.

I can’t bring back the dead.

But I can at least help the living.

[writing-for-life]

I knew all the deep thinkers would unite in their efforts to address the elephant in the room. Because honestly: How can you not care about Orpheus if you want to write even remotely canon-adjacent?

Going in through one reblog, otherwise I’ll get lost…

I think some of these ideas really work. Well, “work” is always relative. All of the things we are talking about here are still a stretch involving a lot of goodwill, and we all know that we are pulling him OOC the moment he makes a decision that doesn’t lead into the inevitable, so much is clear I guess. 

But in any case, it would also depend where in the arc you are, who is in your actual fic, and whose development you most want to focus on. What might be an option in one fic might not be an option for others at all. 

So I think this is a really great resource for fanfic writers to think about and spin their yarn….

Because The Sandman canonically can’t ever have a happy ending (and I am a fierce defender of canon and will scream if they touch it in the show 😂), I’ll get to your reblogs first @rey-jake-therapist and @tickldpnk8. I totally agree: Canonically speaking, there is absolutely no way out, and I think Neil really has set it up in a way that you couldn’t change it with a good conscience if you want to keep Morpheus in character. So I agree with absolutely everything you’ve both written.

But naturally, it is a story about change, and that’s a possibility in fanfic. I just think there is change that still sits well in a canon-adjacent way if we assume character-development, and then there’s change that is just… coffee shop AU 😂

So if we assumed we want to give him a chance, we need to solve the Orpheus issue, because ignoring it is just so… I don’t even know where to start. And as I said before: I find it tricky myself. I set out writing accordingly, my first volume has been finished a year ago (just publishing the last chapters), but he just isn’t happy being happy (no surprises there) and constantly tries to pull away from it without asking me about it😂. He did it while I wrote the first story, and now he tells me to do the second one and says again: “Nope” (I swear our characters have their own mind, they just flow through us). So it is really hard because I share your take. And yet, I personally don’t want to wipe his memory anymore (just in my story) because he *has* changed, and there was a lot of sacrifice involved that would feel wasted in a really unjust way, so it’s not an option.

As for Lyta: I feel that would be a bit like what I already wrote about “sitting it out”. Yes, she kicked it off, but I feel even if we took her out of the equation, the Kindly Ones would come for him sooner or later anyway because that’s what they do if you spill family blood (although we can of course go into the technicality of what that actually means). So while it would buy him a bit of time, it wouldn’t solve the problem I guess?

I love all your thoughts about this, @tickldpnk8, and I think we could make all of them work to a degree (alone or in combination), and I will address them all individually (the dreamstones really have so much potential, and I have already set that up in my first story in case I want to fall back on it. I just don’t think I do 😂). I especially like that you mentioned Loki, because there are so many shades of grey  there that could be explored. So for all the writers who have Loki in their story, that’s a definite heads-up. 

@hurrrhurrrhurrr, we are made of similar stuff. I always thought that was the easiest (?) way in. But I guess you have to look a bit closer into Greek mythology and lore for that. I have been reading everything related to Greek mythology since I was a teenager and feel okay navigating it (needless to say, I shamelessly rewrite it for my own stories), and there are definitely ways to make this work. There is the atonement idea, which I would personally always heavily lean into (as in: It’s what I’m writing). Because so much hinges on Morpheus learning to forgive himself, and that *is* character development. There could possibly even be something in how Apollo, erm, “silenced” the Oracle (without going for the Apollo = Morpheus thing, because that obviously wouldn’t work). You’d need to be creative with how much power Greek deities still have these days, but since Muses and Erinyes still operate in full swing, I honestly don’t think we need to be *too* worried about that.

Plus, the Greeks constantly retconned and rewrote their own myths, so I feel it would be very possible to bend it into a shape that works without feeling too guilty about it. So yes, I totally approve 😂

@ginoeh and I already talked about the dreamstones in the comments, so I feel there *might* be something to play with, again depending on individual story. Could be a good villain sideplot, could be everything else really. There are nine other dreamstones (bar the three that get mentioned frequently: ruby, rose quartz and emerald) that we could probably project all sorts of things onto. Topaz, fire opal and black pearl are explicitly named, plus the ones that aren’t and the ones that are destroyed. I already made use of one of them, and I feel they are a good backup option that might help with certain things, but I personally wouldn’t want them to do *all* the work, so to speak, because I’m still not sure about how much power they would hold individually (bar the three we know, and even there, it gets fuzzy). Plus, it feels a bit too easy and abracadabraish to me (but I like it complicated, so that’s more my personal problem than anything else). It really depends on the story, and we know so little about the dreamstanes that it’s probably something that could work if written well? They are “solid dreams”, after all…

@demon-scarecrow I’ve seen it several times that Orpheus’ memory gets wiped, or he is somehow, I dare to use the word “manipulated” into having an imagined/dream body. It’s definitely possible, it just feels a bit unresolved to me, sometimes even a bit like gaslighting, depending on how the individual story is set up (it never sat right with Nada for me either, but that’s a personal thing). 

I like what @so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site wrote about getting Orpheus back on his feet (although that sounds bad in this context), and the therapist in me definitely wants to go down that route. I think this is a very contemporary take for those who want to spend a reasonable amount of their story on character development for Orpheus instead of focusing mostly on Morpheus’ character development, because I feel you’d need to spend more time with Orpheus than other characters in that case. 

As for Death (and everyone who mentioned her): I think she would indeed be closest to a solution if someone else were to “do the job”, and I always felt there was a plot hole somewhere in just asserting that she can’t “take it back” when she can do it with other people. I mean yes, we know the explanation/the deal in a way, but it feels a bit meh to me. So if we are willing to gently bend that part of the story, I feel she is the only one who could do it. I just have a personal aversion against Death always saving the day and solving everyone else’s problems (then again, you can argue that she holds some responsibility for this one, so she’s definitely not off the hook). But for writers who are willing to go down that well trodden path, it is certainly an option. 

I hope I didn’t forget anything/everyone, and I love you all for bringing together this awesome brainstorm resource. And keep the ideas coming, there's probably more.

Give me your head-canons:

How do you solve the Orpheus problem?

As in: It’s the elephant in the room in so many canon-compliant or -adjacent fanfics I read (we obviously don’t need to talk about coffee shop AUs) and Orpheus either keeps on existing somehow (and no one cares, because Dream and whatever love interest just literally fuck off into the sunset and pretend everything’s okay), or he gets killed by someone else who quite strictly wouldn’t be able to kill him.

Is it a solvable problem?

If he keeps existing as a severed head, it’s honestly a bit shite for him, isn’t it? So these are the fics where we keep on visiting severed heads. I don’t know, I find that… dissatisfying.

If Dream kills him, it’s over. Unless he stays in the Dreaming and lets the storm blow over. Will it though? I mean yeah, he could sit there for all eternity (groan), not take Death’s hand and make sure he doesn’t conveniently leave so the Kindly Ones get in and start ripping the Dreaming to shreds. But that doesn’t really sound like a solution to me either, because the problem won’t go away. Also: Probably no meetings in the waking world with you-know-who ever again. Plot hole, people, it doesn’t work that way.

If someone else kills him: Who? Please don’t say Hob, I know he’s immortal (so was Murphy), but the very idea is that no one can kill the poor kid because he made a deal with Death, which she apparently can’t revoke. Is there an entity who could? Which links in to the question: Why could Dream (somewhat rhetorical question)? Could any similar entity do it if they also had to grant him a boon? But don’t forget: Can’t be one of the Endless, they’re all family. Unless one sacrifices themselves. I mean, I think I’ve seen Death doing that in a fic somewhere, I think the assumption was she’s okay with dying a mortal death, but I also felt that’s not quite right, since it’s just not the same (also: in her mortal form, she wouldn’t have those powers). Does it have to be The Presence/Glory? Why would they care?

Yeah, he could use the Saeculum I guess, but really? If the problem never existed, it would also feel… wrong? Plus, we all know that changing the past always has implications on the future that go far beyond the thing we want to change. Plus plus: I honestly think it would be a bit OOC for him because he’d feel there’s not enough at stake (like a whole universe imploding) to ever justify that. So no, that’s, IMHO, making him into someone he really isn’t (can of course be an option in fanfic I guess).

Same goes for the Dream of a Thousand Cats Spiel. Someone who is so wrapped up in his duty just wouldn’t do that for his own personal gain, and not even for one loved one (he also wouldn’t be allowed to kick it off by telling anyone, and what 1,000 dreamers would dream that? I mean, WE all would, but that’s a bit… meta?😂). I said what I said.

Or is it some sort of magic? Like, he’s still a severed head, but we make him *think* he isn’t, give him back a body (in his own mind, or maybe even for real)? But that’s also… not great and feels like gaslighting him. Really not keen.

So what say you?

Is this just a case of: Unsolvable problem, hence we might as well pretend we solve it in some ridiculous way or pretend it doesn’t exist in the first place?

[ficcrimes]

The B-Side

Fandom: The Simpsons

Characters: Bart Simpson, Lisa Simpson, Milhouse Van Houten

Ship: Milhouse/Bart; implied past, unrequited Milhouse/Lisa

A/N: This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote literally over a decade ago.

Summary: Navigating a crush when you're a teenager is hard enough, but it's even harder when you're Milhouse and you're crushing on Bart Simpson.

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

“I’m sorry, what?”

Lisa is trying her best not to laugh, but Milhouse can see the corners of her lips twitching, and can hear the giggles being stifled beneath the clearing of her throat. He can’t blame her, really; he’s already laughed at himself plenty.

“You’re joking, right?” she asks, and it’s just one more attempt to try and keep herself composed.

Milhouse’s smile is shy and awkward as he shakes his head. “Nu uh.”

“Oh, God,” Lisa snorts and then snickers. “You’re serious!”

Milhouse doesn’t mind her laughter and even joins her, chuckling at himself, the situation, and the confession now lingering between them. It’s definitely too late to take it back, but Milhouse is fairly certain that even if he could, he wouldn’t.

Lisa seems to recover quickly enough from her bout of giggles, and suddenly she’s staring at Milhouse with a mix of fascination and horror.

“Oh, God,” she gasps, and then the rest of her sentence dwindles into a groan. “You’re serious.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” he asks, idly wringing the hem of his shirt between his hands. “It - it could be worse!”

Lisa snorts again. “You could do better.”

Milhouse smiles half-heartedly at her. Up until recently, she had been the object of his affection, the one he thought he wanted more than anything else in the entire world. He’s not entirely sure when his attention started to drift away from her and to Bart, but considering Lisa never has and probably never will reciprocate his feelings, maybe it’s better this way.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug.

He never stood a chance with Lisa. With Bart, on the other hand…

The odds aren’t great, but still better somehow.

“Are you gonna tell him?” Lisa asks, brow furrowing. “Because I would completely understand if you didn’t want to.”

“I dunno,” he says and shrugs, releasing the hem of his shirt. “That’s why I came to you. Do you think I should?”

Lisa rubs at the back of her neck, taking in the sight of him as they sit across from each other, wide inches and overgrown park grass between them. Milhouse has been one of the few relatively positive constants in her brother’s life, but she still struggles to confidently encourage any potential pursuit.

“I’d say it can’t hurt, but…” It could, and it probably will in the long run. Still, Milhouse looks pathetically optimistic, and Lisa’s never enjoyed hurting his feelings.

She sighs, smiling weakly back at him.

“Go for it.”

----

Unlike his father’s, Bart’s hands have always been quick and clever. Bart’s skilled fingers move across the buttons of the game controller with ease and determined force, and Milhouse has been staring for the last two minutes. His eyes wander from Bart’s hands and up to his face, and he can’t help but admire the stubborn crease of his brow and the tight clench of his jaw.

Dread fills Milhouse’s stomach when Bart suddenly glances his way, smirking.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer, y’know,” he says, and then his attention is right back on the game again.

Caught, Milhouse ducks away, staring down at his own fidgeting hands. How long had Bart known he had been staring? Does he know why? Bart has a tendency to be surprisingly observant when he wants to be, and knowing that makes Milhouse’s guts twist into knots.

“Hey, man,” Bart says, and he’s looking at Milhouse again. “Are you okay? You’re not looking so hot.”

“Yeah,” Milhouse says, but there’s not a whole lot of truth to be found in that answer.

It had been decided that today would be the day he told Bart how he felt, but acting upon that decision was proving to be much harder than making it. His palms itch and his throat is dry and tight. He’s pretty sure he’s beginning to sweat.

The uneasy look Bart’s giving him is completely warranted.

“Look, if you’re gonna puke or something, just don’t do it on the carpet. Mom’ll have a canary.”

Milhouse tries to laugh, but even he knows how forced and fake it sounds. After he clears his throat, he draws in a deep breath and digs deep for whatever fragments of courage he can find. It’s not much, but it feels like enough.

“Bart?”

“Yeah?” He’s not looking at Milhouse now, eyes trained on the television and the game he’s playing. Something happens in-game and he curses under his breath, and it’s as though he hadn’t even been worried a moment ago. It’s honestly a little bit of a relief.

“We’re best friends, right?” A flush is already creeping up the back of his neck. He feels like he’s ten again and not sixteen.

“What kinda dumb question is that?” Bart replies while leaning over to one side, controller angled in his hands as though that might encourage his character to do his bidding in a more timely manner.

It’s not the answer Milhouse wanted, but it is the one he partially expected. He takes it as a yes, of course.

“So… We can tell each other anything, right?”

“Uh huh,” he mumbles. “Why?”

“I gotta tell you something,” Milhouse says quickly, and it feels as though he’s reached that point of no return. There’s no turning back now, no matter how desperately he wants to make something up on the spot, or even just get up and leave.

“Fire away.”

“Well, I… Uh…”

Milhouse hesitates, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip.

Bart must assume the game is the cause of Milhouse’s silence. With a bit of a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Bart puts the game on pause and turns to face Milhouse completely and properly. Wedged into the corner of the couch, he gestures vaguely between them. “There. Now I’m all yours. So let’s hear it.”

Milhouse can feel the heat creeping up from his neck and to the bridge of his nose, and he can only hope Bart doesn’t notice.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles, taking a breath. This had been so much easier in his mind, and when he practiced with Lisa. “It’s just that… I have this crush—”

Bart snorts. “Oh, man. Are you still hung up on my sister?”

“No!” Milhouse is quick to defend himself, brow furrowed.

“Uh huh,” Bart laughs now, grinning. “Sure.”

“Bart,” Milhouse says, trying to sound somewhat stern despite the way his heart is hammering away inside his chest. “I’m serious. It’s not Lisa.”

That seems to sober him up just enough to make him stop laughing, but the grin is still present. “Ooh, it’s not, eh? Is it Sherri? Terri? Oh my God, it’s not a teacher, is it? Mrs. —”

“No!” It comes out harsher and a little louder than he intends, but he’s thankful it’s effective and Bart quiets down in response. Even if that means he’s now saddled with the rest of his confession.

“It’s… Not a girl.”

His heart is about to pound its way right through his ribcage and fall into Bart’s lap, like some sort of off-beat Itchy and Scratchy cartoon.

There’s a beat of silence, and Milhouse feels weighed down and frozen to the couch by Bart’s intense stare. It’s all he can do to fidget in place and clear his throat.

“Okay, so who’s the lucky guy then?”

Whatever relief comes with Bart’s passive acceptance is almost immediately crushed by the understanding of his question.

“It’s, uh…”

The words are caught in Milhouse’s throat, and no amount of fish-mouthing seems to work them loose. He drops his gaze down to his hands again, shrugging one shoulder before peeking back up at Bart.

And then Bart laughs, and it sends shivers right down Milhouse’s stiff spine.

“No way,” he says with another grin, pushing himself up out of the corner of the couch. “Me?”

Milhouse says nothing, still unable to find his voice. He manages a weak nod before Bart brings himself closer, ducking down to try and get a better look at his best friend’s flushed face.

“I really thought you had better taste than this,” he says, and there’s no warning before one hand takes a fistful of Milhouse’s shirt. He pulls him in quickly, and before Milhouse even has time to think about it, Bart’s lips are on his. He doesn’t kiss him back, but he does reach for Bart’s wrist and he squeezes a little tighter than he really means to.

When Bart pulls away, he winks.

“What…?” To say that Milhouse is left a little dazed is putting it lightly, and he doesn’t let go of Bart’s wrist even as that hand falls away from his chest. “Why’d you…?”

“Hey,” Bart shrugs, wriggling his wrist free. His hand falls on Milhouse’s knee instead, and he gently squeezes.

“I’ll try anything once. Twice, if I like it.”

[oscar-piastri]

finding each other [charles leclerc x reader]

title: finding each other

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: you see charles after 10 years and you spend the night catching up

words: around 4k

notes: after not writing anything for 3 years i’m recycling my old imagines and rewriting them for motorsport drivers

You sighed once again at the sight of your phone, showing no missed calls or texts from your friends. You sat on the bench in this museum gallery, groaning and hoping your friends didn’t leave without you. They said they needed to go to the bathroom, but it’s been 10 minutes and you were worried they just forgot about you and left the place straight away. 

Of course you tried to contact them but you weren’t lucky on this side. You looked around in this museum’s room, convincing yourself that they’ll be back soon. It was your idea to come to this special night opening so it’s obvious that they wouldn’t leave without you. You’ve been telling them about it for so long. You always loved art, any kind of it and the chance to visit this museum during the night was something you didn’t want to miss.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Someone asked. You slightly jumped of scare, knowing it wasn't any of your friends’ voices. You knew that it was possible for people to know you here, but you didn’t look at the person at first, your eyes were just glued to this person’s feet but you quickly raised your eyes. 

It took you a few seconds, but your eyes widened when you saw this familiar face. “C- Charles?” You blurred out. The sight of the vibrant eyes and beautiful smile made you go back in time, a little bit more than 10 years ago.

It was your early days of high school, if someone asked you, it was probably the best years of your life. Mainly because you had good friends, you weren’t top of your classes but you still managed to have high grades and of course, a wonderful boyfriend; Charles. He just made everything look so perfect. He was kind, generous, reassuring, well anything you wanted. He was not your first boyfriend, but he was your first real love and sadly, first real heartbreak.

After two years of being together, you had gotten the terrible news that your father got a new job, but it required for your family to move out, to the other side of the country. As soon as you heard about that, you ran to Charles to tell him everything. You had come to his house with the hope to make things work, try the long distance relationship for your senior year at high school, so you could be with him again when you’ll attend college. You had planned everything in your head as you were making your way to Charles’ house, but you surely didn’t plan his reaction.

“I don’t wanna have a long distance relationship” he blurted out right after you explained to him your plan. At first, you thought he was joking, but when you saw the sorry look he was wearing on his face, you knew he was serious.

“W-Why? It’ll be just a year?” you asked, trying to find the ideas to convince him

“I love you, but I just can’t be with someone mentally, if this someone isn’t here physically” He explained, hoping you’d understand.

Sadly, the 17 years old teenager you were clearly wasn’t pleased with his answer “So, if I understand it’s all about sex?” you asked, quite shocked by what he meant to say. You truly hoped you’d got it wrong.

“What? No! It’s just… Long distance relationship? Really? It just makes people break up; missed calls, always busy, barely have the time to speak. Might as well save us some tears and break up today” As Charles was speaking, his words made sense to you. It was indeed what was happening to most couples, but you weren’t most couples, you knew that the two of you together would last forever, but Charles wasn’t ready to believe in your relationship and it saddened you to see that you wouldn’t be able to change his mind. 

“If that’s what you want….” you muttered, resigning from arguing. You knew it was completely useless. 

“Trust me, it’s for the best.” He said, trying to reach for your hands but you pulled them away before you walked towards the doors, tears in your eyes. “Maybe we’ll find each other again” he continued, but you closed the door behind you, before you could hear the whole sentence.

And there you were now, 10 years later, in front of your first love. He hadn’t changed at all, but it was true to say that he got way more hot. You probably have been staring at him for a couple of minutes but you were just too lost in your memories to stop yourself.

“How are you? It’s been..” He started talking but you quickly cut him 

“More than 10 years” you said, lowering your voice as the memory of your breakup was still fresh.

“You haven’t changed at all” He said, smiling.

“I could say the same thing for you” You replied, before a long silence appeared. Charles was about to say something when someone jumped on your back, you quickly assumed that it was one of your friends.

“Sorry you had to wait, there was a huge line” she laughed before being joined by the rest of your friends.

“Oooh who is that?” One of them asked, looking at Charles. He was gently smiling at them but you felt that he was finding the situation a bit awkward.

“Charles. He’s hum” you said, but Charles was quick to answer before you

“I’m her ex boyfriend” He said, and as soon as he said those words, you felt all your friends looking at you with a smirk on their face. “I should go. It was nice seeing you” he continued, not knowing if he should hug you or not.

But you stayed still, not knowing how to act either. “Yeah, have a good evening” You said before walking away, quickly followed by your friends.

As you were walking outside the museum, you could hear your friends talking about Charles and probably making some crazy plots about this relationship. But you were too surprised by your encounter to pay attention and listen to them.

However, when you heard Charles calling for you, you stopped walking right away and turned around, to find him running to you as he was trying to avoid some passers-by. He stopped when he reached you, trying to catch his breath after the little run he had.

You watched him, staying quiet as your friends were starting to whisper things in your ears that you completely ignored. “I just had that crazy idea, I mean you’ll probably find it weird but, do you want to… Maybe catch up on the last few years? I feel like we have a lot to talk about. And now is a good time.” He suggested and all your friends were looking at the both of you, their mouth wide open, wondering what you were going to say.

“Alright, Charlie” when you said that, Charles started to blush while smiling. You used to call him like that when you guys were dating. “We can go grab something to eat” you said and your friends were clapping their hands.

“Okay, we’ll leave you here. Good night guys” one of your friends said before the little group waved goodbye.

You were having mixed feelings about this situation, it was true that you really wanted to catch up with Charles, it’s been 10 years and you would be lying if you said you never thought of him the past years but you were somehow still heartbroken because of your breakup. When it happened, you felt really broken, seeing that your boyfriend wouldn’t try to work things up to keep this relationship alive; he gave up at the first obstacle and you were disappointed.

“I know a great dinner place, well it's fast food because I don’t think anything would be open at 11pm but” Charles started saying but you cut him off smiling.

“Fast food is great, you know I love them” you said, hoping he’d actually remember that information because he brought you to a fast food restaurant for your first date and it was the best first date of your life.

It felt like Charles was reading your mind, as he smiled, just like he was picturing your first date again. Not wanting to freeze to death here, he started leading the way to your next stop and you were quick to follow his steps, trying to walk right beside him.

It was a bit awkward, you were just walking side by side, not saying anything. You could hear people talking as you walked past them, you often thought it was Charles talking but when you’d look at him, you realised he was just looking right in front of him without saying words for minutes, in addition to the loud noise coming from the cars.

“Charles, what are you doing here? I mean, I know you don’t live here anymore” you asked, trying to break that awkward and heavy silence.

You had moved back into your hometown for work a couple of years ago, where you found some of your older friends. Of course you were tempted to ask where Charles was, but they all told you he left the town soon after he graduated high school, to pursue studies to become an engineer. 

“Well I’m actually here for my work. I had meetings I needed to attend, and surprisingly, it was here.” He began. “It feels weird to be back here, and finding you tonight, damn it brings back memories. I feel like I’m 17 again” he said and he chuckled at his sentence.

“It’s actually funny, I left the town but came back and you left.” You pointed out. The more and more you were talking, the more you noticed that Charles was starting to be more relaxed.

“Yet, we managed to find each other” he breathed out, and you couldn’t help but think he was right.

“Just like you said we would” you mumbled, remembering that day where you broke up.

“I actually wanted to talk about it,” Charles said before stopping in front of a fast food restaurant. 

“Let’s talk inside” you told him as you opened the door and went inside, with Charles following you.

“I’m sorry for what happened 10 years ago” Charles blurted out, as you were sitting and waiting for your orders to arrive. You knew you wouldn’t be able to speak freely, as long as you wouldn’t have talked about your breakup. 

“You don’t have to apologize” you sincerely said. Your hands wanted to reach his so you could show him a little affection but you quickly deleted that idea, not wanting to make this situation more awkward.

“I know you were mad that day, and I can still feel like you are today” 

“Yeah well, when I came to your house, I wasn’t expecting us to break up!” You recalled with a weak smile on your face.

“I know…” he mumbled, and you felt his regrets right away.

“I shouldn’t be mad, I should respect your decision but I was so heartbroken, and trust me, I still feel that pain now” you explained in a calm voice. You didn’t want to come off as a rude and bitchy ex-girlfriend.

You stopped talking and smiled at the waitress who placed your order on the table, before thanking her.

Charles didn’t let you continue whatever you were saying, and unlike you, he reached for your hands. “I was a complete idiot, I was young, dumb and never realised how much you meant to me, until I pushed you out of my life at the first obstacle. If I could go back in time, trust me, I’d agree to this long distance thing, I’d take a train to see you. I am living with that regret, and it’s as painful as your heartbreak.” He confessed, holding your hands over the table. His hands were slightly moist, a sign that he was a little bit stressed.

It might have taken a little bit more than 10 years, but you were glad you finally had that discussion, face to face, because it showed you that you weren’t the only one in pain because of that breakup. 

“We were kids, making mistakes” And by mistakes, you mostly wanted to point out the fact that you didn’t try to get in touch with Charles during those past years. The anger and disappointment made you want to avoid Charles at all costs, not knowing that you could have probably cleared that out many years ago, if any of you had the courage to speak.

After that, you decided to forget about the past, and catch up, like old friends were doing. “Let’s have a new start” Charles suggested, holding his right hand in front of you and you smiled as you shook his hand, sealing this new start.

“Alright let’s eat!” You said grabbing some french fries. With all those explanations, the two of you were in your shared bubble, forgetting about what was around you, and mostly your now cold food at 11pm.

“So, how come you’re here now? I didn’t ask you” Charles asked before taking a bite of his burger.

“Well, it’s pretty simple. I finished my studies and I needed a job. Turns out my hometown had a great job opportunity and here I am!” You said, not wanting to expand on your boring life.

“Is that all? Damn, I thought I was gonna have a two hour speech on your adventures” he laughed and you threw fries to his face.

“I make money, that is the most important thing” you emphasized on the word ‘most’. At this point in this society, money was important, and you were ready to endure a boring life as long as you had money in your bank accounts. “So, what did you do during 10 years?” You asked Charles, dying to know what you missed in his life.

“Oh well, I left this town as soon as I could. Dated some people, did some karting” he started and you couldn’t hide your sad face when he mentioned the dating part. Of course he was allowed to date people, get laid or whatever, but you were kind of hurt because you never wanted to picture him with someone else. “But my life isn’t so much different from yours, I got where the work is. I’ve been lucky to have a really cool job in a cool city so I won’t complain”

“Ugh, growing up is so hard” you whined. “So many responsibilities and stuff. I’d do anything to come back to high school” you sighed before taking a sip on your drink. 

Charles laughed at your whiny attitude. “If I remember correctly, back in high school you were always like ‘school sucks, I wanna be an adult, be free and whatever’” 

“Shut up” you groaned. “I was young and dumb. Look, I dated you” 

Charles faked being hurt “Ouch that hurts” 

“Great acting, Leclerc. Have you thought of becoming an actor?” you placed between laughter. But you stopped laughing when you noticed that Charles was staring at you, with a huge soft smile on his face. “What?” You asked a little bit worried. “Do I have ketchup on my face?” You said while taking a napkin to clean your face

“No! It’s just… I love your laugh, it’s such a pretty sound to my ears” He simply answered, and without a second you felt your cheeks burning. 

Charles has always been like that, always charming and complimenting you; your smile, your eyes, your laugh, he always knew what to say to get you to become a blushing mess. And with that, you felt like it was just you and Charles, alone in your bubble as you travelled in your memories, but this time, happy memories, the one that made you cherish your relationship.

In all honesty, you missed this. Charles and you, just talking about life, laughing, smiling, just enjoying each other’s company. It was so natural.

You had just finished eating, the dinner was empty, the only table left was yours. Even though this place was open 24/7, nobody was here when it was past midnight.

“Let’s go somewhere else” Charles proposed, as he placed some money on the table. You wanted to protest, saying that you could pay for yourself but he insisted on being a gentleman.

“Where are we going?” You asked, grabbing your purse to follow Charles outside.

“To a trip down memory lane” he exclaimed which made you chuckle. It was probably the fact that you were tired but at the same time excited, or the euphoria of going back 10 years in the past, but you were ready to follow Charles anywhere. You always trusted him, and it wasn’t the long year gap that was going to change that.

This is how you found yourself in front of your old high school’s gates, then running down the road that led to the karting track, where Charles was spending most of his free time practicing. For a second, you saw the sweet 17 years old Charles running to your 17 years old self, to celebrate his team victory. When you blinked, that view was gone but thankfully, those beautiful memories weren’t.

“Bringing back some memories, uh?” Charles asked, just as if he was reading your mind.

“Especially you running to me, being all sweaty and smelly after a race” you joked and Charles smiled, putting his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him.

“The good old days” he hummed and you nodded your head. 

You looked at your watch, to see what time it was. When you realised it was close to 3am, you instinctively yawned. Time was flying by really fast with Charles’ company, and just being with him made you forget every inch of tiredness, until now.

“Tired much?” Charles asked, with a smirk on his face

“Yeah, I guess I’m too old to stay up all night” You pouted

Charles gently sighed. “Up on the bench” he instructed and you listened. Once you were up on the bench, Charles’ back was facing you and he was squating down. You recognized right away what he was doing and you couldn’t stop the dumb smile to appear on your face.

“Piggy back ride!” You squealed as you climbed on Charles’ back. Once you were comfortably installed and Charles was stable once up, he started walking. “Where to now?” You asked as Charles was still walking.

“My hotel room” he said, but quickly justified himself so you wouldn’t have some weird thoughts. “You’re pretty tired so I figured we can still talk and you’ll have a bed where you could fall asleep”

“Thoughtful” you mumbled as you rested your head on the back of his neck. From your position, you could smell his cologne. Even though it wasn’t the same from high school, it still a nice smell, it was fresh and it suited him very well. Something else was mixed to this smell, and when you slightly moved your head, you noticed it was his hair. His shampoo was leaving another great smell and the two mixed was purely heaven to you.

“You smell good” you blurred out in a low voice.

“Well thank you! I do shower.” He said, smiling. He was actually glad you were behind him, so you couldn’t see him turning into a blushing mess.

The walk to Charles’ hotel was a little bit long, and you tried to fight any sign of fatigue, so you could enjoy these last moments with Charles. A few meters before the hotel’s entry, he put you down so you could walk to the hotel together, like normal human beings. The streets were empty, it was nearly 4am and most people were sleeping at this time, and it made you enjoy Charles' company even more. Made you feel like it was just you and him against everything

You rapidly got to Charles’ room, as soon as you entered, you got rid of your shoes and your jacket, to jump on the bed. Charles got rid of his coat and shoes as well, and laid down next to you on the bed. You felt your eyes burning from the fatigue as you were watching the ceiling, you knew you’d fall asleep in only a few minutes, so you decided to tell Charles the last things you wanted to tell him.

“If I’m completely honest, being back here, in this town, without you? It was hard. Because I was always tempted to go to your favorite spot, hoping I’d find you here. But every time I was reminded that you left town and that you probably would never go back” you explained, still looking at the ceiling. At this point, you were unsure about Charles’ reaction to your confession, so you decided to avoid looking at him. 

Charles moved his head to his left so he could look at you “If I’m honest as well, I left because I didn’t want to stay here if you weren’t. This town, it’s a great town, but you made it worthy. Without you, it was just a boring town with boring people” He confessed, as he watched your cheeks turn into a pale shade of red, again. “Hey, crazy 4am idea” He continued, getting from his laying position to a sitting one in just a second, making you turn around to face him “We said, we were having a fresh start, how about… I mean…. Are you” he started stammering

“Do I want to try again? Us?” You asked, cutting him off

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, and his silence made you regret what you just said “Y-Yes” He finally said, reassuring you

“I do. I still believe we are perfect for each other” you stated. Of course you were ready to give another shot to this relationship, but you refused to have your hopes crashed once again “But you? I mean, it’ll be a long distance relationship. Aren’t you scared?” You questioned Charles, not wanting him to ‘run away’ from this relationship once again.

“Not anymore. Because I know we’ll make it work, look, even after 10 years it looks like we never said goodbye” He assured you, and it seemed so sincere that you decided to believe him. “And besides, maybe one of us will manage to have a mutation or something? Because I know for sure, that you are the missing piece in my life”

“Let’s appreciate this moment, we’ll figure things out tomorrow” You suggested before yawning. You trusted Charles on that, but you were both tired and you didn’t want to make any stupid decision that one of you could regret in the morning.

“Technically it is tomorrow” He pointed out and you playfully hit his chest

“Okay, you got me” You admitted before going back to being silent. You took a few seconds to think, well your decision was already made up but you didn’t want to let Charles know that you already decided what to do. You got closer to Charles, your face being only a few inches away “Let’s try it” you let out in a breath, before crashing your lips against Charles’.

Your lips moved in complete sync, like your mind and bodies were connected, like you were meant to be. Your hands found their way to his hair while he was cupping your cheeks with his hands. Charles slowly laid down on his back, so you could place yourself on top of him. His hands left your face to travel down your body, trying to get under your shirt. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your back, breaking the kiss.

“Hey, not too fast” you breathed out and he nodded, pecking your lips. 

You rolled over to lay next to him, resting your head on his chest.

“I’m glad we found each other” he said as he was gently stroking your hair, while you closed your eyes

[maddiwrites]

Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll. 

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!! 

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas. 

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought. 

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner. 

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first. 

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning. 

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead. 

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences. 

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time. 

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags. 

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid. 

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement. 

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes. 

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it. 

“Dude!” 

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of. 

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different. 

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump. 

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him. 

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him. 

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified. 

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards. 

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating. 

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.” Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting. 

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one. 

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster. 

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach. 

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night. 

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back? 

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his. 

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive. 

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally. 

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper. 

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope. 

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip. 

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to. 

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you. 

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second. 

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”