#I don’t even know if I’ll watch the whole season I might just reread the books

[pizzabookbuying]

gosh I’m a LITTLE heartbroken

[linnetagain]

List of random Season/skating/Bloodweave thoughts that I don’t know justify their own asks but that I thought you might like to hear anyway:

Chapter 1, Karlach asking Astarion about pay: “Vroomvroom: so you’ll suddenly do a really shit job in week 5 then? :P” YOU CHEEKY LITTLE BUGGER, YOU (I love it, A+ foreshadowing)

I stumbled across Ryan Dunk’s “Freddy Mercury on Ice” skate, and his butt was weirdly distracting. I’m very aspec, is this what the allosexuals mean when they say a pair of jeans makes their butt look good? Why do I keep looking at his butt, shut up and let me watch the skate

The “middle finger” skate Astarion did while Gale was in the hospital was to Looking at Me by Sabrina Carpenter, right? I’m basing this on its order in my mega playlist, I can never remember what chapter things happen in and I do not have TIME to reread the whole thing again, no matter how enjoyable it would be. Anyway. I finally listened to Looking at Me yesterday, and then listened to it another 37 times. Holy cha-cha music, I was not expecting the mariachi trumpet sound. So sassy, I love it. (I did ballroom for about a year and half in high school, back in yonder years of 2011-2012. I was on the standard team, but sometimes I still get beat over the head with the urge to Do Something Latin by certain pop songs). But, more to the point, I LOVE the lyrics for this story moment. For all Amy’s strategizing about song choice and how they need to handle the narrative with Gale’s hospitalization, I think Astarion freaking nailed it—you think they’re looking at (Gale)? They’re looking at me. Media tries to make a big deal about Gale’s collapse, or Astarion’s response, or the fact that he’s showing up to Hessie’s school, or any potential leaked footage of the Mystra Kerfuffle backstage, or anything Cazador tries, or ANYTHING—Astarion draws their gaze instead, whether they want it or not (just look for the broken necks). I can’t remember the exact names of the maneuvers you can pick when you level up a fighter in-game, but there’s one that will force nearby enemies to attack you instead of your allies. That’s what this reminds me of.

Cool factoid about me: I got to go on a field trip in 1st grade to a nearby ice rink during the lead up to the 2002 Olympics, and we got to watch a skating pair rehearse their routines. After some research, I THINK it was the French ice dancing team, Gwendol Peizerat and Marina Anissina, who won gold in one of their events. The routine I got to watch was probably one of these! Honestly, the thing I remember most is the dude’s luxurious hair XD

Heads up: I am going to attempt to draw Gale & Astarion in contrasting skating costumes, drawing from male/female costumes, but making both of them gender non-conforming/androgynous. Gonna try and give Gale his long skirt. I’ll report back.

Imagine, if you will, all of Gale’s official music videos going forward incorporating dance/skating choreography from Astarion. I remember a gazillion years ago, when Lindsey Stirling was on a “dancing with the stars” type webshow where all the stars were YouTubers, her music videos going forward all credited her pro dance partner as the paid choreographer. Ice skate music videos. Piano on the ice rink. Gale singing (lip-syncing?) while skating. Outdoor skating on location. Maybe Gale skates with him, maybe it’s just Astarion, maybe it’s just Gale! Who knows. Ice skate music videos.

I have had this vivid image for… weeks, honestly, I can’t remember which chapter of my first read-through triggered this, of their final skate being some kind of dope mashup of Golden and Always You, with Astarion’s back and arms and Gale’s chest exposed, with gold body paint highlighting each of their scars. Because kintsugi. I figure Astarion would be the one to design and make/customize the costumes, cuz I do not trust Volo even in the slightest with something like that. Maybe it would pair with Cazador being publicly denounced and/or arrested, like a “do these look like they came from a fall to you??” I don’t know. Maybe there’d be a secret third song that Gale has yet to write that the other two would morph into, something triumphant to resolve the story of the skate/the songs, where Golden is kind of hindsight bittersweet and Always You is a pining song.

Ugh. I wish I had filk powers and could make Gale’s songs real. YO, FAN COMPOSERS/FILK MUSICIANS, I HAVE A PROJECT FOR YOU GIFT-WRAPPED AND READY TO GO—

By any chance, do you have video examples of the particular moves that the boys use in their skates? Both Astarion’s TikToks and their competition pieces. For reasons. No, shush, no guessing.

I found some really cool skating vids to share, but my YouTube is being a BUTT so perhaps that shall be a separate ask. Welp.

HEHEHEHE

Ice skater's glutes are INSANE. I know in canon Astarion has a itty bitty tush, but in season that man is CAKED.

Yes it was Looking at Me!! I have so much fun choosing the songs

Gale is absolutely still working on that song he's been writing about Astarion and it's about to get a whole new angle (so, less sad and pine-y) and I love to imagine Astarion in the music video or choreographing it, haha!

I do have examples of specific moves but depressingly few of them have names - would you be interested in me linking the YouTube videos with the timestamps? Would that be useful?

I'm sorry I haven't responded to the rest of your points but it was either YES, GOOD, YES or I CAN'T ANSWER THAT WITHOUT SPOILERS so I hope you'll forgive me. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm it's so appreciated ily 💕💕

[baeglbites]

Would you mind sharing your thoughts on Kaiju no 8? (I feel like I might highly agree with you lol)

Oo, I’m assuming you read my tags hahah, yeah I’ll try to expand! 

(Be warned, I didn’t reread or rewatch the series, so I’m just going off my impression. It’s going to be rambly haha)

I started with watching the anime, and the first season was anime solid! Animation, art, and soundtrack, all enjoyed (although RIP Gen’s debut lolol, I’m sure he’ll get an upgrade next season lol)

The premise was interesting, a 32 year old protagonist who essentially switches career, said protagonist also becomes the very “monster” that the Kaiju Defense Force eliminates 

Bullet point of Thoughts

what happens in the aftermath of battles (esp after shounen fights)? Who deals with that, so in this world there is a specialized cleanup crew disposing big ass several story monster with toxic innards -> yay world building! Cool! 

Kafka isn’t “strong” like a typical recruit (without his Kaiju form), but the way he helps is his knowledge from his previous jobs. I’m like ooo that’s neat!

I thought about people with prior job experience switching career, a lot of their soft skills and also previous experience carries over which is a unique advantage

But he doesn’t really fight like that anymore… 

Female characters are cooler than I initially thought! (Kikoru grew on me haha)

Scratching my head and I’m like huh thoughts: 

Many people’s motivation to joining is to protect the people for the future of the people (a little vague and almost nationalistic?)

Defense force seems to be a difficult job, seems you die early in that kind of career, but it seemed to be glorify… 

I’m wondering if there’s anyone who’s like "that’s messed up man"

characters: clearly people care about each other alot, maybe too much. But I love most of them (except for director…side eyeing him….) 

I thought that the series was going to expand on the elements and themes in the beginning of the series…but now it’s more like hey there’s a dangerous Kaiju and we need to defeat them for the sake of countries safety…punch punch smack

Also, we don’t even know where Kaiju comes from, like barely any hints or maybe there are crumbs and I missed it?? Like what’s their motivation? Why are they attacking people? Kaiju’s seemed to exist back then too? 

Also like are Kaiju creatures? Like do they eat? Do they poop?? Do they have babies?? Do they sleep anywhere?? 

Also it looks like there’s a whole industry of Kaiju weapon and armor production, like I’d like more details pls...like who thought of the idea of using the skin of a toxic,dangerous creature?

Are there any drawbacks (besides the limitation of using the suit to its fullest potential). 

Also with special Kaiju suits, implies that the Kaiju’s memories and consciousness is vaguely imprinted in the suits, and I’m like interesting, please expand, but it’s not expanded (yet?)

Anyways! I just think there’s potential, but so far…I see alot of missed opportunity of ideas and themes

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Happy Sundaaaaaaay

Anonymous asked:

i just re-entered my danganronpa phase with some friends, like, last week. And I hop on tumblr AND YOU DREW KOMAHINA?? Scary coincidence but amazing art as always 😭

SURPRISE, I’m watching you! Wink.

Jokes aside, Danganronpa is great, and it’s one of those titles that we randomly remember sometimes and instantly want to revisit (or at least to sketch something, if we’re not ready for the deep dive…). Especially KomaHina, thinking about these two always makes us smile…

So I get it! And I hope you and your friends enjoy your danganronpa phase.

Also, thank you so much!<3

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Since you know of the school arc of Black Butler, what's your take of the Circus arc? Like what do you think of the boys?

Book of Circus is good, I really like how it shows how unapologetically dark Kuroshitsuji can get. I feel like it sets the standard for how the rest of the manga will go (even though it gradually becomes darker overtime…). It also has a lot of our favourite moments: the whole Sebastian/William thing, Sebastian being an absolute idiot and enjoying the circus life like the clown that he is, Ciel being forced to smile, Ciel having an asthma attack, Ciel freaking out and ordering Sebastian to kill everyone—

But you asked about the boys, and to be honest, while we generally liked the circus troupe and their story, there isn’t anyone we’re like super into and think about a lot, other than Snake of course. Doll is also great! Out of the rest of the crew, Dagger was probably my most favourite one.

But my favourite character from this book is the mob-looking old man who had a crush on Ciel and his dad and got a little bit too into them and spiraled out of control. Completely devastated and ruined by pretty faces of pretty boys…… Sorry, this whole story was so messed up and hilarious at the same time, I yell every time we rewatch/reread it and get to this flashback.

Fun fact: I really hated this season when we first watched it like 10 years ago. But I hated a lot of things about Kuroshitsuji back then, and a lot of it was that I just really wanted to hate it because I was annoyed by Sebastian lol

Anonymous asked:

You might enjoy this Trey mouth fetish fic… I can’t add the link but it’s called “ Open your Mouth” by pissboyciel

Thank you for the recommendation, Anon! I don’t really read fanfics, but I appreciate it nonetheless, maybe I’ll check it out… the author’s username is piece of art…

[sassynosubete]

everything wrong with show colin bridgerton

It’s 2am but I’m SO disappointed that I let go of any thoughts of sleep and welcome the one emotion I usually do not harbor. Anger. Season 2 of Bridgerton was a mess for sure. If you enjoyed it, fine, no offense. But for readers, it was a mess. Kanthony is my second fave ship from the book series and although I loved the (super duper sexual) dynamic between actors, I didn’t get enough of,,,,,kanthony? Like, the season wasn’t about them.

It was about ruining characters. You might argue that how can they ruin something they barely established in the first season so I’ll repeat, I’m a book stan. I’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton more than I would like to confess. It’s embarrassing. Since my fave Bridgerton is this guy named Colin Bridgerton, just like any other Polin stan, I had expectations.

They were destroyed by the first season. Colin is a very complex character and he has his own share of flaws. I would never argue that he is perfect because he clearly isn’t. However, the book Colin never had a major romantic plotline before Pen. He wasn’t even particularly interested in relationships in my opinion. He had issues with his place in the world, society, in his own family. Obsessed with leaving a heritage or “something of importance” behind him, he tried to escape his demons while traveling around the world. He couldn’t.

Penelope helped him to chase away his demons.

Instead of this well-written version, we had a heartbroken, traumatised boy full of trust issues because of the most unnecessary plotline. Whatever, I got over it.   Then boom! This dumb, pathetic manchild literally went to the house of a married woman with 2 children, tried to get her back after rejecting her, and got DRAGGED by the same woman. Tbh, I’m not a huge fan of Marina but I was rooting for her when she simply said: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Because, same, what the fuck is wrong with this guy? This is not Colin Bridgerton. This is someone else!

You might say: “Well, the writers are doing it to build a base to make him more mature in next seasons!” The man acts like he’s 13. He cannot get any more childish than that. The way he handled the Featherington scheme was so hard to watch. Still, he tries to escape the reality, funny dude, we get it - but on top of all that, they decided to add the FAMOUS “I would never marry Pen” line.

It wasn’t the OG one, it was just there to sprinkle more pain onto Pen.

BUT:

We didn’t see the reaction of Colin seeing Pen hurt. 

The talk wasn’t between brothers but a chat between members of the society that always excluded Pen. 

Its effect on the story was barely seen because the timing was off.

Basically, Colin was a full asshole this season (except like... 2 scenes). Notice how I didn’t include the part where he said that he doesn’t see Pen as a woman. Because that’s book accurate. However, the Marina plot and the following pathetic manchild vibes throughout the season.... ruined him for me. I don’t know how the writers plan to develop his character after this point, I honestly have no idea how he can be saved from being the worst ML of the series.

I still can’t believe Marina had to tell Colin about Pen’s importance. I can’t stress this enough, this changes the whole dynamic of the book. Colin was the Bridgerton who had to learn how to be in peace with the fact that he’s a Bridgerton. He struggled to find an ideal and shape himself to fit the standards that weren’t expected from him. He was full of flaws yet perfect in the eye of everything he wanted to escape and serve at the same time. His relationship with love was supposed to be this weak link, barely visible, mainly connected to how he never let others perceive the real him as he never let himself perceive the real Pen.

I’m so sad. One of my favorite characters got destroyed by Netflix. I want to say that I’m hopeful for the next season but I am not. I wish, I were. If you excuse me, I’ll go and reread Romancing Mister Bridgerton again. I’m mourning the loss of a loved one.

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK: Chapter eleven: "Can't get you off my mind"

|Word count:  9,7K

Summary:  Reader struggles with her feelings for Spencer and tries to work with Seaver. Neither of those things works. Spencer's headaches are getting worse. Also, it's Anderson's birthday! Things are getting a little more complicated.

Warnings:  Hardcore fools in love. It's getting painful to watch. Spoilers of Criminal Minds Season 6 Episode 11. 25 to life. Cursing, and frustration. Alcohol consumption. Assholes being blind.

A/N: Please don't hate me! but these two are just so blind, it hurts!

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

Spencer's point of view

Psychotics in a break always evolve. Well, I was psychotic at that minute of my life, but the only things evolving were my migraines. They were driving me insane. I could feel them taking over my life, my head, my sanity. I could feel my good judgment slipping through my fingers every day, especially since (Y/N) had started acting strange.

It wasn't like she had stopped talking to me or hanging out with me. But I could feel a void growing between us every day. And it was driving me insane. I couldn't understand where it had come from. I just knew it was eating me alive.

Morgan was having a bad day. One really bad day. The man he had vouched for parole had just murdered a man after nearly 70 hours of freedom, and now the team was trying to solve the whole case. Don Sanderson claimed he had been framed guilty of the murder of his wife and baby daughter, but after 25 years in prison, the first thing he did as a free man was to murder someone else.

It made no sense.

We had visited the murder scene. Hotch was still on a leave, so it was just Prentiss, (Y/N), Morgan, Rossi, Seaver, and I. Emily was in full "training agent's duty," walking Seaver through every step of the procedure, which was very nice of her. It was her first case after the incident in New Mexico, and she was eager to do better work than that time. She was nearly jumping all over the place, taking notes.

I talked with Garcia on the phone because he was worried about Morgan, and then I walked to (Y/N), who kept a safe distance from Emily and Seaver.

- "The bullets were in the other room, but the gun is right here,"- I said as I looked around the room. (Y/N) turned to me, ready to speak her mind, but Ashley spoke first, which annoyed her beyond belief.

- "Maybe killing him was an accident."

I looked at my best friend as Prentiss and Ashley continued talking. She just crossed her arms and walked around the room. She surely wasn't dealing well with having Seaver around. I wanted to ask her something, anything, but nothing came to mind.

- "Sanderson was out of prison for what, Reid?"- I answered Emily's question but didn't even turn to look at her. My eyes were following (Y/N), moving around that room.

- "At the time of the murder, 51 hours."

- "He's free for 2 days and change? What's the big hurry to find this guy?"

- "Are you ok?"- I whispered and stood next to (Y/N) as Prentiss and Ashley kept analyzing the scene.

- "Yeah, just tired."

- "Do you wanna have dinner with me tonight? I didn't see you this weekend, and I thought we could do a movie night."

(Y/N) took her time to answer, but finally, after a moment, she nodded and agreed.

- "Movie night sounds nice."

- "Great, ‘cos I rented your favorites."- I might have sounded more excited than I should, but I had really missed her those days, and I may or may not have watched and read Pride and Prejudice a couple of times.

- "Did you? Really?"

- "Yes, I was hoping to spend some time with you."

- "Are you coming, Spence?"- Seaver interrupted us and looked from the door- "Rossi called. They are interviewing Sanderson at the BAU."

- "Yeah, we are coming,"- I answered and looked away. (Y/N) shook her head and walked outside in silence the second Prentiss called my name, and I couldn't follow her. Which, I guess, was a good thing.

- "Is everything ok?"- Emily stayed behind with me. She raised an eyebrow, watching (Y/N) walking out of the room as Ashley waited for us by the door.

- "Yes?"- my answer came more as a question because I honestly didn't know what to say- "Everything is ok, Emily."

- "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have the feeling (Y/N) isn't thrilled to have agent Seaver around."- I almost chuckled at her words and just nodded.

- "It's not like she has made it hard to tell. She literally yelled at her at the jet."

- "Is she mad at me because I am supervising her training?"

- "I don't know. I don't think so… she hasn't told me so. Well, she hasn't talked to me much lately."

- "Why? Did you fight?"- Prentiss wide opened her eyes and moved a little closer to me, trying to read my expressions.

- "No, I don't know what's going on. She just… we…"- I couldn't find the right words to explain my mind, and I think Prentiss knew it, ‘cos she didn't push me.

- "You should talk to her."

- "Yeah, we are going out tonight."

- "You have a date?"- Ashley walked over and asked me with a short smile. I cleared my throat and shook my head right away.

- "No, just meeting with a friend."

- "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to intrude,"- Seaver blushed and looked at her shoes. Prentiss smiled, probably reading something I wasn't seeing.

- "Come on, Rossi is probably waiting for us at the BAU, and I'm guessing Morgan is not in a good mood."

For the rest of the day, I tried to find a moment alone with (Y/N). I needed to talk about what was going on. But it was impossible. We worked late, rereading the original case files, trying to find something that might help us help Sanderson. But it was frustrating and nearly impossible.

So around nine, we decided to call it a day and go home.

- "Are you in the mood for Chinese?"- I looked at (Y/N), gathering all the things as I stood next to her desk- I thought maybe we could get some take-out from that place you love on our way home.

- "Sounds nice. What are we watching?"

- "Pride and Prejudice, Coraline, maybe Beetlejuice. You pick, I've got all your favorites,"- (Y/N) narrowed her eyes, looking at me in silence- "What?"

- "So you rented movies ‘cos you wanted to hang out with me?"

- "Yes."

- "You usually don't rent movies. You rent documentaries."

- "Yes, but I wanted to do something different this time. I told you I missed you."

(Y/N) blushed as she stood in front of me, biting the inner part of her cheek, trying not to smile. I looked at her, nearly beaming, excited to see her reaction. I had felt so scared to lose her, feeling her pushing away from me. It was a balm watching her so happy, and just because I missed her.

- "I love Pride and Prejudice,"- Ashley said from her desk- "I've read that book so many times, I think I can recite it."

I looked at her and nodded with an awkward smile. I knew she was just trying to be nice ‘cos she was new at the BAU, and she was also trying to be nicer to (Y/N), to get on her good side. But that wasn't the way to get to her. Maybe I had to talk to Seaver and explain that my best friend is a special woman.

Neither of us answered her comment. We just stood there, looking at her in silence, until Anderson walked over and waved.

- "Hey agents, before you go, I wanted to tell you, this Friday I'm celebrating my birthday, and I'd love to have you over."

- "Of course, Sonny!"- (Y/N) wide opened her eyes and clapped. She had called him "Sonny" since they sang "I got you babe" by Sonny and Cher in the karaoke at the Christmas party the year before.

- "Happy birthday, Anderson!"- Derek waved.

- "Thank you! We'll gather at a bar nearby. I'll text you the address."

- "We wouldn't miss it for the world,"- Prentiss added and smiled- "Do you mind if we tell JJ and Garcia?"

- "Please do! I haven't seen JJ since she left, and it would be amazing to have her over. You too, agent Seaver."

- "Thank you!"- Ashley smiled and nodded- "Count me in."

I could feel (Y/N)'s eyes rolling, annoyed, even when I wasn't even looking at her at that minute. I grabbed my bag and my coat and held her hand.

- "Bye, guys! See you tomorrow!"- that was all I said as I dragged her out of the bullpen. Emily waved at us, and Derek cut me an evil grin I could decode easily. I just ignored him and turned to the door.

- "Have fun, pretty girl!!"- Morgan chuckled at his own words, and (Y/N) just smiled and winked. Why? Probably to show him she didn't care about all his teasing, ‘cos nothing was ever going to happen between us.

(Y/N)'s point of view

It might have been childish, but I had to take advantage of Morgan's innuendo just to show Seaver things could happen between Spencer and me. It had been immature and silly, but I just felt like I needed to do it. It was like a stupid animal instinct that forced me to mark my territory.

I shouldn't have done it. Spencer wasn't mine. Not even close. And I had to stop being jealous of Seaver. If he didn't want me, he had the right to be with anyone else. But just the thought of Spencer being with someone, anyone, made me feel sick in my stomach. I hated being in love with him. I honestly did, ‘cos I didn't want to ruin our friendship with useless feelings. Spencer wasn't in love with me. He was just my friend. My very thoughtful, cute, adorable, and lovable best friend.

I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Even that second, sitting on that couch with Spencer, I couldn't focus on the movie. I pretended, but I didn't even pay attention to it. All I could think of was how warm his body felt sitting next to me, like a gigantic magnet that called for me. I could simply just move my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine. Or lean in closer, rest my head on his shoulder, feel how he wraps an arm around me, and melt in his embrace, like I had done a million times before.

But I couldn't. I had to stop that daydream of a domestic and romantic life with Spencer. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't sane. But most of all: I wasn't real. And I was never going to move forward in life if I kept thinking those movie nights meant something.

- "More popcorn?- Spencer handed me the bowl, and I shook my head- "You have been awfully quiet considering we are watching Coraline."

- "Well, we are supposed to watch the movie in silence,"- I answered and didn't take my eyes from the screen.

- "You have never done that."

- "Maybe I wanted to give it a try."

I grabbed a bunch of popcorn just to keep myself busy. I could feel Spencer's eyes on me, and it was killing me ‘cos I knew I didn't have to look at him. If I did, I wasn't sure how I would react. I was overthinking everything and anything you might think of.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah. Sure."

No, I wasn't.

- "(Y/N), can you look at me?"- Spencer paused the movie and turned to me. I hesitated, thinking my best friend is an amazing profiler, and I didn't want him to know how I felt about him ‘cos it didn't want to ruin our friendship.

After a few seconds, I moved on the couch and raised an eyebrow. His brown eyes stared into mine in silence for a moment, trying to read me.

- "What is going on?"

- "Nothing,"- I lied and frowned- "Why are you so obsessed with the idea something is going on?"

- "‘Cos I have this… feeling."

- "You got a feeling?"- I chuckled, trying to be funny but failing completely. In the end, I just stared into his eyes for what seemed to be a million years but were, in fact, just a few seconds.

- "Are we ok?"

- "Of course, we are, Spencer."

- "You never call me that"- he frowned immediately, almost hurt.

- "What?"

- "You just call me Spencer when we are on a case, and there are people around us. But when we are home, I'm never Spencer to you."

"When we are home." That killed me. I hadn't realized how badly I wanted that to be our home, to have a life with Spencer.

I was in love with my best friend. I was spending every single hour of every single day of my life with him. That wasn't right! If I knew he didn't have feelings for me, why was I doing that to myself?

- "(Y/N)?"- Spencer's voice took me from my thoughts. He looked so worried I didn't know how to convince him there wasn't anything wrong, considering it felt like everything was wrong.

- "What is it?"

- "Please tell me what's wrong."

- "I told you, nothing is wrong. I just called you Spencer. That's your name. It's a lovely name. I had never met someone called Spencer ever before in my entire life. You just called me (Y/N), not pumpkin, cupcake, chipmunk, or ma chère,"- he sighed, frustrated and maybe a little annoyed.

- "Nothing is wrong, honey. I'm really ok. Just tired, maybe feeling a little invaded with Seaver in the team"- I knew he knew I hated her, so I had to blame her in a way.

- "Why?"

- "You know I'm not her fan... I hate working with her,"- I kind of chuckled at my own words because I was trying to make a joke out of my awful reality.

- "It's just for a few weeks,"- he tried to reassure me, probably to ease my mood, but the truth was I hated how it always felt like he was defending her.

- "One week, one day, it's the same torture,"- I shook my head and turned to the screen again.

- "Don't be dramatic."

- "I'm not dramatic! I just hate how she is always playing the victim ‘cos her father is a serial killer. She is clearly overcompensating! Besides, we have all gone through bad shit in our lives, and no one is using it as a tool to get things in life."

- "I don't think that's what she is doing."

- "No? Do you think she belongs at the BAU? She is a trainee agent who almost got killed in her first assignment. She works hard, and she is not stupid, I give you that. But she is not top of her class. She is not there ‘cos she is the brightest. She is there ‘cos Rossi, Hotch, and probably Prentiss felt bad for her after what happened and decided to let her hang around and learn something for a while. If you ask me, I think there are more qualified trainee agents we could use in the team, but Seaver played her "my father was a serial killer" card and got the job. And who knows how many times she had done it before, and how many times she will use it again."

Ok, that may or may not have been too hard, but it was exactly how I felt. There was a deep silence in Spencer's apartment. The movie was still paused, and after my speech, Spencer just looked at me with wide-opened eyes. I just sighed and regretted every word that had left my lips ‘cos they made me sound bitter and shallow. But at least they didn't tell him the truth: that I was jealous of the thought Seaver might get his attention. Scared that he could look at her the way he had never looked at me. Just to imagine I could bump into them kissing terrified me.

- "Maybe I should just go home,"- I whispered and tried to stand up, but Spencer grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the couch.

- "No, please. Stay,"- his voice was a whisper but still managed to shake me.

- "I don't wanna argue with you, honey,"- I thought I would speak too loud, but no, I actually murmured, matching his tone of voice.

- "We don't have to talk about Seaver anymore. Just watch the movie with me. You love this movie."

- "You love this book,"- I added and looked at him. He smiled. God, that smile is going to be the end of me.

- "It's just so dark! But it has such a good message."

- "Not all nice people are good people?"- I just spoke about what the book had meant to me ever since I was a little girl, and Spencer analyzed the whole plot again in less than a minute.

- "I was going to say overcoming your fears, but I like your analysis the most."

- "Of course, you do, ‘cos it's better,"- I teased and stuck out my tongue to him. Spencer just stared at me and nodded.

- "You might be right. Yours is much better,"- he kept his eyes on me for a few more seconds and continued smiling until he snapped from his thoughts- "More tea, ma chère?"

- "No, honey, thank you. I'm good."

I cut him a quick smile and sat back on the couch, trying to relax. I knew it was going to be impossible, but I honestly didn't want to leave. I wanted to be with him. I had stayed home alone the whole weekend, hidden underneath a pile of blankets, in something that looked pretty much like a fort, according to Lu's words. She had stayed with me Saturday night ‘cos I told her I needed a girl's night. It was my poor attempt to stay away from Reid, and she was happy to help.

Ok, Lu didn't know I wanted to stay away from Reid. I just told her I needed a girl's night. I really didn't want to deal with all her questions. You have the right to avoid dealing with your feelings from time to time if you can. And I told Spencer Lu wasn't feeling so good, so I wanted to spend some time with her. He sounded disappointed ‘cos he was making plans for our weekend off but understood completely I needed to be with my friend.

See? Spencer made it so easy falling in love with him! He was so thoughtful it freaking hurt!

I couldn't fight the feeling anymore and rested my head on his shoulder. It felt he was waiting for me to make that move, ‘cos in a few seconds, his arm was wrapped around me protectively.

- "I know Lu needed you, but you missed a whole weekend of cuddling on this couch watching your favorite movies with me,"- Spencer whispered, bumping his head carefully against mine. I bit my lips and smiled, not taking my eyes away from the screen.

- "We do this pretty often"- that was all I could answer.

- "At least once a week for the last… thirteen-month two weeks, and… four days."

- "I love how precise you can be when it comes to our friendship, honey."

Calling it a friendship hurt me at that point, but it was what it was. Spencer chuckled and just nodded. We enjoyed our company in silence for a moment. His fingers drawing figures on my arm and my head resting on his shoulder, letting his smell invade me. It was heaven.

We were finally watching the movie… though what I really wanted was to watch a movie with Spencer instead of actually watching it. But that was the nature of our relationship. We were friends. Friends don't watch movies.

- "No way,"- I argued when his cellphone rang and interrupted our moment- "Please tell me we don't have a case."

- "We don't,"- he quickly answered and picked up the phone- "Hello? Hi… it's ok, tell me"- he didn't stand up or moved from me. He kept holding me tight against his body and finished his call by simply saying.

- "We can meet tomorrow at seven at work. I can help you with your test."- I hated those words immediately.

- "It's not a problem, see you tomorrow. Bye."

I was afraid to ask ‘cos I knew the answer. The knot on my stomach was the fair warning of what had just happened. That bitch had ruined our moment yet again.

- "What are you doing tomorrow at seven?"- I did my best to sound as casual as possible, but I knew that conversation might not end well. He hesitated. I could nearly hear his neurons struggling to find the correct answer to that question. Until he simply whispered:

- "Please don't get mad."

- "Why would I?"

- "‘Cos Ashley just called to ask me to help her study for a test…"

I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, doing my best to calm myself down at least a little before speaking.

- "I'm not mad, Spencer,"- I tried to lie as smoothly as possible. I even cut him a smile and looked into his hazel and confused eyes.

- "I know you don't like her, but I had offered to help in case she needed any… what?"

- "I'm not mad, really,"- I smiled again and turned to the screen- "We said we were not going to argue, and besides, she just called to ask you for help. That's not something to be mad about, right?"

Technically I wasn't mad. I was beyond furious.

- "Are you sure?"- he narrowed his eyes, baffled- "Not that I want you to be mad or something, but we just argued over her, and you said you felt invaded by her… so…"

- "Yes, but I don't wanna argue anymore. I don't want you to think I hate Seaver because I don't. And most of all, I don't want her to be the reason we fight. I don't wanna fight with you. Ever."

Spencer sighed, relieved, and smiled, pleased with my answer.

Spencer's point of view

Something felt off the following day when I walked into the bullpen and saw Ashley waiting for me by my desk with two cups of coffee. (Y/N) had said everything was ok, and I decided I wanted to believe her. But I had an awful feeling about everything that was going on.

- "Hi!"- Ashley smiled and handed me a cup- "Figured you might appreciate one of these for making you wake up earlier."

- "Thank you"- I smiled awkwardly and held the cup- "Are you ready?"

- "Yes, I brought all the notes from the class and my books…"- she set them on her desk and giggled as I went through her notes, sipping my cup- "I feel back in high school…"

- "Why?"

- "I wasn't the best student back then, and I always had to ask my classmates for help,"- I couldn't help but think of something (Y/N) had said the night before.

- "And are you a good student at the academy?"

- "Yes, I think. I'm not in the top three of my class, but I have good grades. I'm just not… a genius, like you."

Her eyes lingered on my face, and her cheeks blushed after a few seconds. I frowned, not getting why she was embarrassed. Was it just ‘cos she didn't have the same honorifics as I did?

- "I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified,"- I simply answered, remembering how many times in my life I had ever said something like that. Way too many, to be honest.

It was hard to focus on the subject when Seaver kept asking me personal questions every five minutes. She seemed more interested in knowing about my childhood in Las Vegas than learning about profiling and victimology.

- "Good morning, kids!"- I turned around and smiled at Morgan, so glad to see him I might have actually felt a little relieved- "What are you doing here so early?"

- "Hey! I was just helping Ashley with her test,"- I stood up and walked from her desk over his- "And about you?"

- "I have a meeting with Strauss in a while, and Sanderson's case didn't let me sleep. It was better to come here and start working than to keep on rolling on my bed. But I'm glad you are here. Wanna help me go through a few extra files?"

- "Of course!"- I left the notes I was holding on the closest desk and walked with Morgan to the conference room.

I considered our session with Seaver finished, mostly ‘cos for the last ten minutes, she had been asking about me. What I liked doing outside the BAU, favorite bands, hobbies, anything. I answered her questions and kept trying to push her to study. I didn't want her to blame me if she failed her test.

- "Hey, kid."- Morgan whispered after a few minutes and took a look around, just to make sure no one else was near. I looked at him confused ‘cos he was never that careful to say anything in the office.

- "Is everything ok?"

- "Yes?"- I answered, though it sounded like a question ‘cos I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

- "Are you excited to have Seaver on the team for the next month?"- I shrugged and kept reading the file in my hands- "Come on, Reid. She is clearly sweet to you."

- "I don't know what you are talking about."

- "She has a crush on you, kid."

- "No, she doesn't!"

- "Come on! Are you blind?"- I stared at Morgan, not getting what he was talking about- "Man, Seaver gives you loving eyes even when we are on the field!"

- "She does not!"- I knew I was blushing. I hated those kinds of conversations, and Morgan always made me feel awkward when he hinted I should flirt with a girl or just talk to them.

- "And I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything like that ever again."

- "What's the matter, kid? You don't think she is pretty?"

- "I don't look at her that way!"- I buried my head in a file and tried not to notice how he scanned my whole face, looking for micro expressions.

- "I see. Are you afraid (Y/N) might get jealous?"- Morgan chuckled at his words and tapped on my back a few times, making me flinch- "Relax, man. I'm just kidding!"

- "I don't like those jokes, Derek. Really."

Morgan kept his eyes on me a little longer and nodded. I did my best not to show how I really felt, but somehow, I failed miserably.

- "You know, kid, it would be much easier if you just told (Y/N) how you feel about her,"- Derek's voice was soft and even more concerned than I thought he could be. I nearly shook when I heard him, so I failed my mission of remaining stoic.

- "Reid, it's ok. There's nothing wrong with having feelings for her."

- "I don't… like talking about this,"- I whispered and closed the file- "Can we just focus on work, please?"- Derek nodded and stayed quiet for a few seconds. But I knew he wasn't done yet.

- "Reid, listen. I know you are not really fond of sharing how you feel with us, I know you share almost everything that happens in your life with (Y/N), and as your friend, I've always felt glad and relieved to know you have her. But if there's something you can't tell her, and you need to talk to someone, you can count on me. You know that, right?"

I nodded and looked at him. That conversation took me back to the year I was using and had to keep it secret from my friends. I knew I could count on Morgan if anything happened, but I really wasn't comfortable sharing my thoughts, feelings, and fears with people. (Y/N) made it so easy. Was it ‘cos I loved her? I just always felt I could tell her anything. That had never happened to me before with anyone.

- "Morgan, Strauss was looking for you,"- Rossi walked into the room holding a cup of coffee and stared at us, raising an eyebrow- "Everything ok?"

- "Yes, we were just going through some files,"- Morgan stood up and grabbed the case folder- "I'll be right back."

- "I'll finish reading all these,"- I said and pointed at the box filled with more files. Morgan nodded and walked away.

- "Do you need any help?"- Seaver walked over that second and smiled at me. I stood up and shook my head.

- "Thanks, but I'm basically done. I'll just go make myself another cup of coffee."

- "I'll go with you!"- she smiled and waited for me by the door. Rossi looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I just cut him a straight smile and walked to the kitchenette, followed closely by Ashley.

(Y/N) walked into the bullpen that minute. I watched her as she opened the glass door and took out her jacket. It felt like the time passed in slow motion as she walked. I couldn't help it, I just smiled as soon as our eyes crushed, and for a few seconds, life was perfect. Just to know she was there, smiling at me made everything worth living.

See why I couldn't tell anyone how I was feeling? They would make fun of me. Morgan would never understand the agony and the dimension of my love for her. He would just tease me. I wonder if he had ever actually been in love 'till that point in life.

I didn't want anyone to know what was happening to me ‘cos I was sure they would make fun of me, and that was the last thing I needed at that moment. So I did what I knew best: I locked it all inside and waited for it to burn me alive.

- "Good morning, chipmunk!"- I stood by (Y/N)'s side and smiled as she left her things on her desk and turned to me. She just looked into my eyes, and my brain turned into mush.

- "Good morning, honey bunny. Did you sleep well? You look tired."

- "Yeah, I just got up extra early today to help Seaver, and now I was helping Derek with some files."

- "Do you need a hand?"

- "Sure!"- I didn't even analyze my answer. I just spit the words, thinking it would be amazing to spend some time with my friend, working together.

- "Hi (Y/N), how are you?"- that until her face changed completely when Seaver waved at her- "Spencer, do you want me to make your coffee?"- I froze and turned to her in silence.

- "No, thank you. I'll… just… wait a little before having another one. I just had my third cup."

- "Three cups in already"- (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and turned to her desk, giving me her back- "How long have you been awake?"

- "Not as long as Morgan, I tell you that,"- I pointed at him, walking out of Strauss's office and heading back to our conference room.

- "Let's help him, then."

(Y/N) walked quickly, and I followed closely. I wished I hadn't said no to that coffee. I really needed one to go through that morning.

During that morning, Derek questioned Sanderson again and finally took him and Rossi back to his house, trying to trigger any memory that might help us crack the case. Meanwhile, the rest of the team and I stayed back in the office, repeatedly going through the case files. So far, all we knew is that a team had attacked Sanderon's home and framed him for the murder of his wife and daughter.

The whole day, I focused on work ‘cos it's my favorite escape, and clearly, there was something more important to think of than whatever was going on with my life. But my head was killing me. The migraines were starting to get more intense, and I think they got worse the more thinking I gave to my relationship with (Y/N).

- "It sounds like we need to profile a dormant killer"- Ashle's voice surprised me when I was pouring myself a cup of fresh coffee in the kitchenette.

- "A very lucky one. He was essentially given a gift, a patsy in the form of Don Sanderson, and he'll do anything to protect that story."- I answered, thinking I didn't want to be in Sanderon's shoes, trying to clear my name of something I hadn't done.

- "When someone has a secret this big, everything becomes a lie."

Somehow, Seaver's words hit me. I'm sure she didn't mean to strike a nerve, but she did. I had been in love with my best friend for too long, and now it was starting to affect my life. I didn't want it to get in the way of work, and we were at work most of our time together. But there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to keep on faking everything was normal.

- "He'll most likely be pathological,"- I nearly choked at my own words as I tried to shake away the thoughts from my head.

- "So, we're looking for a liar in D. C. I thought we were trying to narrow this down."- Ashley tried to joke and waited for my reaction but didn't get anything. Instead, I just cut her a straight smile and walked away.

By the end of the night, Morgan had gotten the unsub. But I was still a mess. It had been the longest day in weeks, not just ‘cos I had barely slept the night before, but because I was overthinking everything that happened around me. It was exhausting.

- "Are you coming, Batsy?"- (Y/N) asked me and grabbed her bag after putting on her coat. I stood from my desk and nodded.

- "Yes, ma chère."

- "Where are you guys going tonight?"- Derek asked and smiled at us- "No. Don't tell me, planning this year's matching Comic-Con costumes"- I chuckled and probably blushed, busted.

- "We already settled those, Derek. We are way ahead of schedule this year,"- (Y/N) answered and stuck out her tongue to him.

- "(Y/N), can you give me a second before you go?"- Prentiss stood up and smiled at my friend, who just nodded and walked with her to the conference room. Derek and Seaver looked at me.

- "What?"

- "Do you know what's that about?"- Morgan questioned me.

- "I have no idea."

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "Please don't freak out,"- Emily smiled and turned to me after she closed the door behind her back- I just needed to clear the air a little bit between us.

- "What? Why? Is there something wrong?"

- "I don't know, I just feel you have been acting weird lately, and I needed to know if it has something to do with me supervising Seaver."

I nearly gasped. Not ‘cos I felt insulted but ‘cos I felt caught. I knew I hadn't been subtle about my feelings for Seaver. I just didn't want them to get in the middle of work.

- "I haven't been weird with you, Emily, and I don't think I've been acting strange."

- "Come on, you don't like Ashley, and I offered to supervise her while she works with us."

- "Yes, but neither of those has anything to do with me and you. We are friends, Emily."

- "I know, and I wanna honor that friendship, (Y/N). I love working with you. I just want you to know I'm not… I just… I'm trying to help Seaver start her career."

- "I understand that. We are ok,"- I tried to reassure her, but I knew she could read between my bullshit.

- "Do you think you could try to be a little bit nicer with her?"

- "Nicer?"

- "Yes, (Y/N). She is making an effort to get along with the team, and you've been giving her the cold shoulder since day one." -I crossed my arms on my chest, obviously annoyed and defensive.

- "I have been friendly with her, Emily. I just don't like her, and you can't force me to be her friend."

In my defense, in my mind, that argument didn't sound as childish as it did when I said it out loud.

- "Don't be selfish! Just because you are jealous, you can't deprive her of the opportunity of a lifetime with this team."

Emily's words were knives against my ego and nearly destroyed my facade. I stared into her eyes and wondered how to get out of that situation without hurting my friend. I could pretend I didn't know what she was talking about, but we both knew that was bullshit. I could actually try to tell her how I felt, but it was so humiliating I refused to open up. So instead, I just nodded and smiled at her.

- "I'm sorry that's how you see me. I'll try to be a better version of myself tomorrow,"- and needless to say, I turned around and left.

- "(Y/N), please wait,"- but I didn't stop walking. I refused to continue talking about Seaver with anyone. I refused to deal with feelings or the real world.

- "Everything ok?"- Spencer asked me the second he saw me appear by his side.

- "Yes,"

- "You are blushing. Did you and Prentiss argue?"

- "No, honey. We didn't argue. She just wanted to check on me ‘cos she was worried I was mad at her. But that's all."- Spencer just nodded and looked at me in silence.- "Why don't we just go home and forget about today, honey?"

Easier said than done.

So Seaver was getting under my skin. And it was getting harder to control. That week was hell, and I didn't want to show it. Eventually, I talked with Emily again, and I tried to explain to her I wasn't being mean with Seaver. I just didn't like her. And though I gave Emily my word to be friendlier with Ashley, the circumstances weren't really helping.

Things didn't get any better than Friday night. No, if anything, that was the night that made it all worse. Prentiss, JJ, and I got together at Garcia's house and had a few drinks before leaving for Anderson's birthday. I was making my biggest effort to have fun and ease my mind. Spencer said he wasn't sure he'd make it ‘cos he was tired, and automatically I almost turned out the whole deal, but Penelope literally dragged me to her house and put a beer in my hand.

- "You, my young lady, are going to put some makeup on, a hot dress, and we are going to party!"

- "But PG, I'm not…"- but she didn't let me out of it. Instead, she shushed me and raised an eyebrow, looking pretty convincing.

- "No "but." You are going. End of the conversation."

So she dragged me to the bar, along with Prentiss and JJ, who had left Will with little Henry to join us for what was promised to be one epic girl's night.

Anderson was so happy to see us. He was a sweetheart who was always willing to help us. I knew technically he didn't work at the BAU, but he was always there whenever we needed him. We all felt he was part of the team.

- "Sonny!!"- I yelled and hugged him tight

- "I'm so glad you girls made it!!"- and his smile was priceless- "JJ!!"- he actually yelled when he saw her and ran to give her a triple bear hug.

- "Grant Anderson!! I can't believe it's really you!!"

- "I've missed you so much!! How's Henry?"

- "So big!! I feel I haven't been out with friends in so long!"- JJ looked around, and her face kept lighting up as she recognized more friends and acquaintances from Quantico. I looked around and recognized Morgan already flirting with a woman at the other side of the bar.

- "Looks like chocolate thunder knows how to keep himself busy,"- I joked, and Garcia turned immediately.

- "Have you ever seen him shirtless?"- she asked in a lower voice and leaned a little closer to me, just to make sure no one would listen- "I'm sure it's illegal looking so good in real life."

I laughed and turned to see Prentiss walk to the bar to get us the first round of drinks. Ok, I'll admit it, I was having a great time. I know I didn't want to go at first, but spending time with my work friends and not just with Spencer was refreshing. Not that I didn't do fun things with the rest of the team, but my relationship with Spencer, I mean the friendship that pretty much looked like a relationship, consumed most of my time. But I just loved being with Reid more than anything.

But one night without him wasn't going to be the end of the world. Right?

Right.

Anderson and I danced and laughed. It was all very innocent. And though I've never considered myself a hot chick or whatever, a few guys asked if they could get me drinks, and I kindly declined. I wasn't looking for a one-night stand or anything. I just wanted to have fun with my friends.

- "And where's Reid?"- Anderson asked as we reached our table, where Prentiss and JJ were catching up and laughing.

- "Home, he said he was tired."

- "And? When are you two going to come clean about your relationship? You know, having the confirmation of your romance would be the best birthday present you could ever give me."

- "Grant Anderson, you nosy bastard!!"- I hit his arm and heard his laughter- "You know we are not dating!"

- "Come on!! I mean it! You have to get together! You are like the FBI sweethearts!!"

- "Shut your face!"- Anderson laughed even harder and took a look around the bar

- "So, if you are not dating Spencer, I have a friend who asked about you."

- "Who? What friend? Is he here?"- Garcia shouted question after question as she had overheard the whole conversation and even moved closer.

- "His name is James. He saw you on the news a few months ago, at a press conference with Rossi, and has been asking about you ever since."

I frowned and looked at Garcia, who was wide-eyed staring at Anderson. I had no idea what was going on. It was bizarre.

- "No, thank you?"- I whispered, not even sure of what I should answer at that- "I'm very flattered, Grant, but… I'm really not looking for someone right now."

- "You are not?"- Garcia asked me, and I just shook my head.

- "No, I have too much going on in my life, with work and… well… what we do…"

- "Really?"- Anderson sounded a little disappointed- "Well, in case you change your mind, James is…"

- "(Y/N)? Can I talk to you for a second?"- Garcia grabbed my arm and crawled me to a side of the bar.

- "What? What is it?"

- "Munchkin, you know I love you."

- "Yes, I love you too, PG."

- "That's why I feel like I need to be honest with you, ‘cos you've always been so sweet, and we've known each other for years now, and I feel like if I don't tell you this, you are never going to forgive me."- Penelope was nearly hyperventilating as she spoke.

- "Ok, what is it? You are scaring me."

- "You have to tell Reid how you feel."

- "What?"

- "He has to know! You have to tell him!"

- "I don't wanna talk about what, Penelope"- I tried to walk away from her, but she stopped me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me back.

- "No, (Y/N). He loves you, I'm not a profiler, I don't even play one on tv, but I am sure what I see in his eyes when he looks at you is love… ‘cos it's the same you have when you look at him!"

- "Son of a bitch!!"- the words escaped my lips as my heart nearly left my chest.

- "No, (Y/N)!"- but Garcia lost my attention that second, ‘cos all I could see was Spencer Walter Reid walking into the bar and Ashley Seaver hanging from his arm.

- "What do you want me to tell him, Garcia? To have fun with his new girlfriend?"- I pointed at the door, and her jaw nearly hit the floor.

- "Ok, no. There has to be a reasonable explanation for that!"

- "Yes, but Spencer being in love with me is not the explanation. I'm gonna get a drink."

Spencer's point of view

I was surprised to get Ashley's phone call that night. When my phone rang, I was ready to go to bed. My head was killing me. I had already scheduled an appointment with the doctor for some exams. I was starting to have a bad feeling about what those headaches really were, and I was too scared to tell anyone what was going on. Not even (Y/N).

Actually, of all people, she was the one I wanted to keep in the dark. Why? ‘Cos ever since we met she had taken care of me, I didn't think it was fair. She had taken me into her life and given me a place in it. And sometimes, I felt I was a burden. She helped me overcome all of my traumas and even my drug addiction. She introduced me to her best friends and made me part of her life. (Y/N) had taken trips with me to Las Vegas just to see my mom, ‘cos she knew it was hard for me to do it on my own. If it hadn't been for her, I would have probably spent over a year without visiting her. Now, we took a weekend to see mom every few months.

Why would I trouble her with some headaches? It wasn't fair.

When Ashley called, for a moment, I thought it might be (Y/N), asking me to pick her up. But no. It wasn't her that time.

- "Hey Spence, I'm sorry to bother you, but… are you at Anderson's party?"

- "No, actually, I'm in my house."

- "Why? I thought you were invited too."

- "Yeah, I know, and I was, but I'm kind of tired, and I wanted to come home and get some rest. Why? Are you at the party?"

- "No, but I was getting ready to go. But now I feel kind of awkward asking you."

- "What? What is it?"

- "I just… wanted to know if you could come with me. I'm so sorry, Spence, I didn't know you were tired. I just… I wanted to go to the party, but I feel kind of silly going alone. I wanted to ask Prentiss, but she left with (Y/N) and Garcia, and I felt so awkward asking…"

I wanted to groan, roll in my bed and hide under my pillow. But Ashley was the new girl, and she deserved to have some fun.

- "Don't worry, I'll take you there,"- I know I whispered my answer ‘cos I didn't really want to do it, but somehow I felt it was my duty.

- "Really?!"- and by the excitement in Ashley's voice, it was clear that was what she wanted to hear.

- "I'll pick you up in half an hour, ok?"

- "Thank you so much, Spence!!"

But when I walked into the bar, I knew I had made a mistake. I felt it in my guts. The same intuition I never followed in my personal life, only on the field.

I quickly looked around as Ashley held on to my arm tightly and walked into the bar with a big smile. I soon found Prentiss and JJ talking at a table filled with empty glasses, and my heart jumped inside my chest at the warm, familiar feeling that my friends gave me. I missed JJ very much. And not just as a team member but as a friend who had been taken away from us. (Y/N) always said I didn't know how to deal with change, neither did she, and the shifts in the team always affected me.

Soon I saw Morgan too, talking with Anderson and some other agents. Garcia had to be close then, but I couldn't see her or (Y/N) anywhere around.

- "Come on! Let's get a drink!"- Ashley said and crawled me to the bar.

- "I don't drink and drive"- I said, and she pouted.

- "Come on! You are no fun! Just one!"

- "No, just water. Thanks,"- I turned and scanned the place. Everybody was there, and they seemed to be having fun. Penelope waved and walked to me suddenly. She cut me a short smile and grabbed my arm.

- "Hey, what the hell are you doing here?"

- "I didn't want to come, but Ashley insisted and…"

- "Hi!"- Ashley appeared by our side and handed me a bottle of water- "I'm so excited to be here! We really needed to decompress after everything that happened this week, right Garcia?"

Penelope stared at us, trying to formulate an answer. I could see her making her bet to say something, but she just didn't. Instead, she just turned around and walked away.

- "Is she ok?"- I didn't know how to answer that, ‘cos Penelope's reaction surprised me. Ashley just looked around and grabbed my arm again.

- "Come on, Spencer! Let's dance!"

- "No, I don't… dance, sorry."

Lucky for me, Prentiss showed up and invited us to sit with her at her table. I don't know if she noticed I was uncomfortable, but I was glad to see her. Being in that bar made me feel pretty awkward and exposed.

I had never been much of a party person. I wasn't used to bars and gatherings until I joined the BAU. When I first met Derek, he tried to take me out a few times and be my wingman. It's obvious he failed at that mission. Meeting people at a bar is the most complicated equation I could ever try to solve. It doesn't work for me, no matter how hard Derek pushed me to do it. He said I had to rely on what made me feel comfortable. But no. It wasn't that I couldn't meet people. It was that I didn't want to meet anyone once I met the woman of my dreams. Even when I knew she could never be mine.

When (Y/N) came along, she started hosting these fun "dinner parties" with Frank, Lu, and Mikey, which changed everything. It was the first time I was hanging out with people my age doing things I actually liked doing. It wasn't about drinking or picking girls in a bar. It was about playing Jenga, or charades, eating pizza, and talking about movies and sometimes even books.

(Y/N) said her friends considered me part of the gang, which was all I ever wanted to hear. That I belonged. It's kind of sad when you think about it, but I don't care. I had never felt like I belonged anywhere, and they made me feel like I was one of them. They took me to their rock shows, and I jumped along with the crowd, knowing I wasn't an outcast there. I was with my friends.

You don't know how good that made me feel. And for years, they were my social comfort and cocoon. Then, when Rossi joined the BAU again, he started hosting fancy dinner parties at his house, and I got to hang out with the whole team without being at a bar, pushed to meet people. And it was so good. (Y/N) always said Rossi's arrival had a cohesive effect on us. Not because he brought us together, but the circumstances of his arrival and everything that happened that first year.

This team is no stranger to trauma, and that's a fact. I think Rossi's dinner parties gave us a space to be ourselves, relax, have a few drinks and enjoy our time together. I think that's when we stepped from being friends to be family.

And I hadn't had one before.

I hugged JJ tight as soon as I saw her smiling at me. I hadn't seen her ever since her goodbye party, over two months before, but we had talked on the phone a few times.

- "I've missed you so much, Spence!!"- she said and held my face with both hands- "You and (Y/N) owe me two babysit nights,"- and I laughed, thinking we promised we'd take care of Henry so she and Will could have a date, but we were called for a case.

- "Wait! It was one night!"- I argued, chuckling- "Why is it two nights now?"

- "‘Cos I lost a very exclusive reservation due to the two of you."

- "Technically, it wasn't our fault, we were called in for a case..."

I smiled and sat next to JJ, and Prentiss sat next to me. Ashley stood by the table and smiled at JJ. Right, they didn't even know each other.

- "It's very nice to meet you, Agent Jareau. The team talks very highly of you,"- she shook JJ's hand and smiled.

- "Ashley, right? Prentiss was just telling me you will be taking your remedial training at the BAU. Congratulations, it's a fantastic team to work with."

- "Thank you,"- I took a look around, still trying to find my best friend around. But it seemed useless, and I was starting to feel worried.

- "Where's (Y/N)?"- I had to ask.

- "She was with Anderson a minute ago,"- Penelope said and looked around- "I am going to look for her and bring her here in a second. I'll be right back."

And so, she was gone.

Prentiss and I pretty much interrogated JJ about her new job and the new team she worked with at the pentagon. I sipped my water and half-listened her answer, ‘cos most of my head was trying to register what was going on around me. No, actually, I was trying to find (Y/N). Penelope had been gone for half an hour looking for her, and I was starting to think something weird was going on. Besides, my head was killing me, and all I wanted was to go home. But I hadn't seen JJ in weeks, and I couldn't waste a chance like that.

Ashley talked with Prentiss too, and every once in a while, she tried to engage in conversation with me. But to be honest, I couldn't really concentrate on anything. I just wanted to know (Y/N) was alright.

- "Excuse me,"- I stood up slowly and looked at my friends- "I'm going to the bathroom, be right back."

- "Can you get us another round on our way back?"- Prentiss asked and smiled guiltily.

- "Sure."

- "Do you need help?"- Ashley tried to stand up, but Emily stopped her.

- "He got it, don't worry."

So I was left on my own. I walked around the bar. In my mind, I kept telling myself I was "looking for the bathroom," but I knew very well I was indeed trying to find (Y/N). I had been in that bar for an hour, and I still hadn't seen her. I was worried.

I walked around the bar and found Anderson. He seemed to be a little shocked to see me there but smiled and hugged me. It was weird hugging people, still. But Anderson was part of the team. It always felt like it. We had known each other for years, and somehow it was like he was in the background of our daily basics.

- "Have you seen (Y/N)?"- I asked him, and he widened his eyes- "What?"

- "Yeah, she's right there, actually… "- Grant Anderson pointed and turned around- "Later, Reid."

- "Bye"- I didn't even look at him. I just turned and looked around to see (Y/N).

But my best friend didn't notice me. She was too busy kissing some guy.

I stood in front of her, not knowing what to do. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were around his neck, so clearly, she wasn't in distress, and no matter how badly I wanted to take her from him, I just couldn't.

For a minute, I couldn't believe my eyes. I just stood there and stared at (Y/N), trying to understand what was going on. I always knew she wasn't meant to be mine, but I had never gotten such a brutal reminder. Not even when she was dating Paul. Watching her kissing someone else was shocking. The way that man put his hands on her waist and held her close to him, just like I always dreamt of doing, was painful.

Painful. That was the only word I can explain how it felt.

I stood there for a minute or so. I really don't know how long it was, but it felt long enough to burn in my memory everything I needed to torture myself with for the rest of my life. I stepped back after a minute. It might have been longer; I really can't recall. And all I managed to do was to walk out of the bar and reach my car.

I opened the door and slammed it as I sat behind the wheel. I wanted to cry and yell. But I didn't do either of those. Instead, I stayed still, staring at the nothing in front of me, trying to erase that fresh memory from my head. But it was impossible. (Y/N) was making out with some guy inside that bar, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. So I did the only thing I could do at that minute. I started the car and got the fuck out of there.

–

DIWK Taglist:

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General Taglist

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–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 23th, 2021

[isfjmel-phleg]

March 2022 Books

Delivery to the Lost City by P. G. Bell

The first one of this series was cute and clever, but I’m finding that the sequels lack those qualities.

The Swish of the Curtain by Pamela Brown

Like Noel Streatfeild but with much less interesting characters and a much less interesting plot.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (reread)

Seasonal reread.

Friday’s Child; Master Bartlemy, or The Thankful Heart; and Messire and Other Stories by Frances E. Crompton

I really enjoyed Crompton’s The Children of Hermitage, but these earlier works of hers tend to lack the lively characterization and engaging plot of that one. (Friday’s Child in particular was a painful read; basically all that happens is the young title character, who has been sickly his whole life and longs to be an adventurer when he grows up, undergoes some unpleasant experiences and finally dies a saintly Victorian death. What even is the point and why would you do that to your protagonist.)

The Velvet Fox by Catherine Fisher

The second in a series with a lot of potential that never feels quite realized. The Victorian setting doesn’t feel authentic, and everything’s pretty surface-level. The Clockwork Crow is a memorable character, however.

Rubies in the Snow by Kate Hubbard

Fictional diary of Anastasia Nikolaevna, aimed at older middle-grade readers, I think? A bit too on-the-nose as these fictional diaries tend to be, but a decent introduction to the historical material.

Whichwood by Tahereh Mafi

It took me a while to warm up to this book’s predecessor, Furthermore, but this one drew me in from the beginning. Well-drawn heroine, beautiful prose, quite moving.

The Secret Garden: A Graphic Novel by Mariah Marsden and Hanna Luechtefeld

Discussed in full here.

The Candymakers by Wendy Mass (reread)

Reread because I missed these characters and wanted to revisit them.

Unearthing The Secret Garden: The Plants and Places That Inspired Frances Hodgson Burnett by Marta McDowell

Very interesting, plenty of gorgeous pictures, and now I want to visit Great Maytham Hall if I ever get back to England.

The Skylarks’ War and The Swallows’ Flight by Hilary McKay

Historical fiction that follows a family through WWI and WWII respectively. I was impressed with how well McKay captures the spirit of a book written in the Edwardian era, but there was some off-putting content (and some minor less-convincing things--it’s not especially likely, for instance, that a young English woman around WWI would have been named Vanessa), and the second book was less engaging (having a character abruptly turn out to have a different paternity than he’s always believed just so he’s no longer technically a blood relation and therefore can get together with the girl whom he grew up with as a cousin is...a questionable plot device).

The Forgotten Room by Stacie Morrell

If you’re going to self-publish your fanfiction, you had better be absolutely sure that it is darn good fanfiction. You might want to get an editor, do actual research about the era you’re writing in, and reread the book you’re following up (in this case, The Secret Garden) so your details and depictions are consistent. Morrell does not seem to have done any of these things. The plot seemed mostly pointless and depended on characterizations that didn’t make sense. I wasn’t expecting much, but this was especially lacking in quality.

Words on Fire by Jennifer A. Nielsen

Interesting plot and historical setting. I don’t know what it is about Nielsen’s books (I’ve read her Ascendance Trilogy) that always seems to be missing somehow? Like there’s a layer of something that would really bring them to life but it’s just...not there? And I can’t put my finger on it but that was the case with this one too.

The Secret of White Stone Gate by Julia Nobel 

Sequel to a book I read earlier. I don’t think I’ll continue the series.

The Secret Garden (book and lyrics of the musical) by Marsha Norman

Read to follow along while watching a recording of the musical.

All in Good Time by Edward Ormondroyd

Less interesting than the book to which it’s the sequel, but still amusing, especially Ormondroyd’s including a fictionalized version of himself researching the disappearance of the characters.

The Sky Is Falling by Kit Pearson

Historical fiction about British evacuees in Canada during WWII. Pearson’s book seems slight but has a lot of substance, and I will seek out the rest of the series.

The Humming Room by Ellen Potter (reread)

Potter’s prose is gorgeous and the book full of atmosphere. Regrettably too short!

Folktales for Fearless Girls by Myriam Sayalero

Read for its inclusion of “Anait” (with lovely illustrations).

The Singing Tree by Kate Seredy

I went in expecting a continuation of the slice-of-life incidents of The Good Master and was not expecting it to deal with the effects of WWI in Hungary! Quite a different tone than I was expecting but very interesting, especially in light of its being published in 1940 (Seredy seems to be indirectly addressing issues of her day).

Lucy Beware! by Pamela Sykes

Solid continuation of Mirror of Danger/Come Back, Lucy! with some good character development.

Into the Labyrinth and The Constellation of Sylvie by Roderick Townley

Not as clever as the first one (...too many disappointing sequels this month, alas).

The Story Seeker by Kristin O’Donnell Tubb

Cute continuation of The Story Collector, set in the New York Public Library in the 1920s.

Return to the Secret Garden by Holly Webb (reread)

Sequel set during WWII that basically rehashes the plot of the original in a much less interesting and thoughtful way, requiring canon characters to be out-of-character. The adult Mary is barely present and seems strangely bubbly, she’s married to Colin (why do so many adaptations and sequels go this route? does she really need to be romantically involved with either of the boys?) who SPOILER gets killed off in the war for the sake of contrived drama and sorrow, and the adult Dickon gets cast in the role of Cranky Gardener, with “he changed after being in WWI” the excuse for his very uncharacteristic behavior.

Home in the Woods by Eliza Wheeler

Someone recommended this picture book quite a while ago, and it is indeed lovely.

The Marvellous Land of Snergs by E. A. Wyke-Smith

Apparently a favorite of Tolkien’s and partially inspirational for The Hobbit? Had an intriguing beginning, with the premise of a society of ladies who rescue unwanted children and raise them on a island, but after setting this up, Wyke-Smith proceeds to abandon it in favor of a more generic fantasy-ish plot and a regrettably sexist approach to his female characters (including the “females are inherently manipulative” trope that I hate. so. much. I get that that’s a typical view of the time, but I’ve had to deal with this garbage so much that I have no patience for it).

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 2

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)

[a/n]

Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)

When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn. 

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)

AO3 

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

What were you even thinking? Actually,  why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.

History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.

Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?

Ugh.

You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately. 

For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?

“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.

“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else. 

“You okay?” he asks worriedly. 

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym. 

“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.

“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”

He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”

You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net. 

“Y/n!”

You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”

“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima. 

“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”

You almost flinch upon hearing his name.

‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.

You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.

Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.

“Morning,  manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.

Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?” 

“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.

“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.

“Went to a disgusting party.”

You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”

“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.

“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well. 

“And?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how  horrible  the experience was.”

You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.

“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.

“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”

“And?”

“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you. 

“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.

“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him. 

Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.

His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”

“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.

“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.

Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.

“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.

You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.

You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.

Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders. 

A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be. 

--

Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.

“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”

You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come. 

The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates.  The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.

You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.

“L/n and Tsukishima.”

You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this? 

Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit. 

You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else. 

He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”

“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.

“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”

Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.

“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.

Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”

You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project. 

“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”

“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time. 

“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.

You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.” 

--

You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.

As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.

You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.

Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.

You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice. 

To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely. 

What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed? 

He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”

“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.

His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”

“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him. 

That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly. 

“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.

“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”

“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?” 

The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is. 

‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.

It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.

Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.

“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now. 

He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.

“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.

“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?

“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”

He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?

He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.

He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.

“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”

He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.

“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”

You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more. 

“Nothing,” he grumbles.

“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”

He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.

He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him. 

With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other. 

He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen. 

He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his. 

“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both. 

It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.

Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.

Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.

He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.

“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”

You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well. 

“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”

“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.

Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.

You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”

He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.

“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?” 

“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.

—

As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.

He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.

When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area. 

When he does find you, you’re not alone.

There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.

It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.

As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.

“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal. 

Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic. 

“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.

The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you. 

You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you. 

“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”

You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.” 

He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.” 

You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.” 

“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.

“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”

You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.

“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”

Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts. 

You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile. 

“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing. 

--

You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding. 

“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.

“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds. 

You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.”

You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement. 

“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.

She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”

“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.” 

“Of course. Right this way.”

Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.

“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”

You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.

“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight. 

“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.

You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad. 

On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you. 

You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there. 

He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.

“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”

You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease. 

He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.

Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.

He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour. 

You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.

“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear. 

He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures. 

“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him. 

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.

“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.

You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.

You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.

You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s —  particularly his — personal space anyways.

He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.

He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.

On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat. 

He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.

He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.

He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.

“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.

You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you. 

Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?

He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep. 

He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

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[shootybangbang]

[Talking Bird] 17: In which beans are ruined

[Ao3 Link]

At the mention of Trelawney, Arthur dimly recalls a scrap of half-remembered conversation from last year, when he’d idled with the man in a Lemoyne saloon while waiting for a mark to arrive. The first flicker of your existence, passing him by unknown. Like the brief touch of a licked finger through candle flame: deceptively benign, with just a whisper of the burn to follow.

Somewhere between his first and second glass of whiskey sours, Trelawney had mentioned the burgeoning demand for opium in Chinatown. A former contact of his had recently left the high stakes poker circuit to get in on the profit, and he’d lamented the loss.

“It’s a shame,” he’d said, absently swirling the ice cubes in his emptied glass and regarding the swirling wood grain of the countertop with a pensive, faraway look. And for once, the sentiment had sounded genuine. Knowing him, the man was grieving a lost business opportunity more than anything else, but it’d been a long time since Arthur had heard him even bother to feign emotion for a stranger. “She’s not suited for smuggling in the least. Can’t say I can see this ending well.”

Less Trelawney’s gift for prophecy and more stating the obvious, now that he knows exactly who he’d been talking about. Prickly disposition, clueless when it comes to violence, and far too trusting of strangers. The cavalier attitude of someone who’d never been exposed to serious conflict and who, having since been exposed, lacks even the conviction necessary to put a bullet in the man holding her hostage.

And far too delicate besides.

When you’d pulled the blanket down your shoulders to untie your braid, Arthur had tilted his head back just enough to catch an eyeful of your backside. A pretty thing to put to paper: the wet swathe of hair draped over your shoulder, the faint shadow of your spine a dark curve flickering with the shifting of firelight. Soft, dappled lines wrapped in the body of someone who’s caused him nothing but grief in the past weeks.

The view had confirmed something he’d already been suspecting: your lack of threat to anything larger than a rat terrier.

Judging by your physique, you’d probably struggle to lift anything more than fifteen pounds. Maybe twenty, on a good day. A veritably pathetic amount of muscle tone with none of the etchings that rough living leaves behind.

Some foreign high society girl fallen on hard times, he guessed. But oddly, none of the clumsy caution people of that strata have when confronted with any sort of real work. You’d fallen into the rhythm of whittling bark off the cottonwood branches too comfortably for someone unacquainted with physical labor, handled the knife with a deftness that comes only from rote repetition.

“I knew Trelawney had connections to some gang out west, but I never thought…” You shake your head slowly, dazed by the absurdity of this new development. “Did he know? When I sold them those bonds, did he realize they were yours? And why—”

“Nah, he wouldn’t have known. I, uh… wasn’t too keen on tellin’ folk I got robbed by a woman.” He rubs the back of his neck and lets out an embarrassed huff. “Told ‘em the whole thing was a bust.”

Looking back, he may as well have told them the truth. The lie hadn’t done much to salvage his pride, and had prompted weeks of jibes at his own expense. Snide little asides from Micah, overt ridicule from Bill, and the painful ordeal of Sean.

“Gettin’ sloppy in your old age,” he’d quipped. “I’ll tell you what you need, Morgan. You need to let someone else hold the reins for a change. Someone quick on the uptake, someone young and hot-blooded and—”

“Get back to me when you’re done complimentin’ yourself,” Arthur had replied, already walking away.

“Wait, Morgan — take me with you next time you ride out! I’ll scout somethin’ out, and we can…”

Sean had been insistent as a mosquito and twice as annoying, but ultimately bearable so long as he had a beer in his hand or a pillow over his head. His own head, though he’d been sorely tempted otherwise.

No, what had really driven him to leave camp had been Dutch.

Dutch and his put-upon fatherly air, all stern mouthed disapproval and downward sloping shoulders. His pointed observations of Jack’s tattered jacket, well on its way to becoming a patchwork Ship of Theseus. Pearson’s dwindling supply of seasonings, so scarce that the stews have become bland to the point of near inedibility. The stocks of medicine running low, bandages boiled so many times that their fibers have since frayed to a cobwebbed consistency.

“I know you’re doing your best, son,” Dutch had sighed, casting a weary eye over his threadbare kingdom. “God knows you’re the only man I can depend on to get anything done around here. But folks are… well. Folks are struggling.”

Arthur’s eyes had slid momentarily towards Dutch’s tent, resting on the golden gleam of the gramophone and the crisp cotton sheets laid across the bed. An unbroken sea of white, with not a stitch out of place. And not twenty feet away, Hosea’s shabby lean-to, the older man’s bedroll bearing the same disjointed array of colors as the rest of the camp’s accoutrements.

Dutch always did have a taste for the finer things in life. A level of refinement proportionate to the depth of his ambition, which in earlier days had been tempered by kinder, simpler ideals. Feed those that need feeding. Shoot those that need shooting. Robin Hood-esque, with a western (and occasionally lethal) twist. Evelyn Miller had been a fixture even then, but in those halcyon years Dutch had not yet twisted the author’s words to the tottering worldview that he’s since constructed.

The gang’s nascent success had bred standards and attracted new followers. A ragtag flock all too eager to nourish their leader’s growing, malignant appetite for grandeur.

“Just one last score, and we’ll be clear of all this… this manmade rot.” Dutch said, gesturing in the direction of Blackwater. “But for now, we’ve got to play their game. Get our hands dirty for the time being so we can wash ourselves clean of all this when we’ve finally got the means.”

Arthur had departed under the pretense of retrieving the missing bonds (impossible) or locating some cache of similar value (near impossible), but in truth he’d done so primarily for the preservation of his own sanity. More and more these days, he’s been seeing cracks in the foundation of the man who’d given him this life, dragged him out of the gutter and set him with a previously unwavering sense of purpose. And it feels treacherous — traitorous, even — to take any of it into question.

But as always, the open road and the unabiding sky of the prairie settled him into a different mindset altogether. The cycles of flora and fauna in untouched wilderness exist completely separate from the artifices of men, with the legacies of countless tiny lives encapsulated in the fine grit of the dust to which all things return. And in that certainty comes an overwhelming comfort. Everything else seems trifling in the wake of the vast perpetuity of nature.

A few days spent wandering would do him good, he’d decided. Spend some time away from all the trappings of civilization, then rob some poor sap on the side of the road so as not to return empty-handed.

And then you’d ruined his plans entirely by literally walking into him as he’d been passing through Strawberry.

“Well,” you say, offering up a small, nervous smile. “What now?”

What now, indeed. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Guess we take a visit to Trelawney’s,” he replies, already dreading the inevitable embarrassment of explaining the whole sorry situation to the man. “And if it turns out you’re tellin’ the truth, I’ll give you a ride from Rhodes to St Denis.”

You frown and furrow your brow. “Rhodes?”

“Yeah, Rhodes. Trelawney’s got a caravan there on the outskirts of town. You didn’t know?”

“You can’t take me to Rhodes,” you say automatically, as if stating the obvious. “I mean… look at me.”

“You’re a woman?” he asks stupidly.

“I’m an Oriental, you moron. And Rhodes is a fucking… it’s a fucking Raider town.”

“You’d be with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

You shake your head and set your mouth into a grim, flat line. “That’s worse. They might think we’re together. And they don’t take kindly to miscegenation.”

Your words have to them the quality of a veil being drawn back, exposing a corner of this country’s ugliness he’s not often been privy to. A familiar knot of guilt tugs at his innards, accompanied by the unpleasant, impotent sensation that surfaces each time he catches the ungracious stares of the crowd when walking into town with Tilly by his side. Each time he hears the practiced courtesy in a shopkeep’s voice drop away when the man turns away from him to address Charles. Each time he watches Lenny reread for the thousandth time the letter from his dead father, the creases in its paper worn so deep that it would have long since fallen apart were it not for the boy’s careful, reverent handling.

“You know those big plantation houses just south of Rhodes? They hire Chinese sometimes to work the fields. Cheaper than sharecropping, apparently.” The look on your face is drawn and bitter. The bite in your voice suggests something personal, the sting of an injury not yet healed. “One of the boys got involved with a white housemaid. He’d saved up for train tickets to Philadelphia, and they were… he was going to marry her there. Wanted an August wedding. The number eight’s lucky for us, you see. So August 8th, 1898… he thought it was all very romantic. Used to make this stupid joke that he wished he’d met her ten years earlier. Raiders strung him up in an oak tree a couple weeks before they were set to leave.”

Arthur’s tongue lies silent and heavy in his mouth.

You take in a deep breath that rattles with the failing determination of someone struggling not to break their composure, then look to him with a desperation so absolute that it seems almost indecent to witness. “Why don’t you just leave me here? Keep me tied up if you have to. Come back for me when you’re done with Trelawney.”

In the short span of time that he’s known you, you’ve made enough of an impression to warrant several conclusive classifications. A haughty, pampered little thing. An ineffective liar. A self-destructive fool — but not stupid. Definitely not stupid.

The sheer idiocy of your suggestion indicates a fear so deep that it’s completely severed you from your senses. Just a frightened little bird caught in a trap, scratching and clawing for the narrowest possible opening for escape.

“You’re tellin’ me to tie up a woman and leave her in the middle of nowhere? May as well just hand-deliver you to the wolves. No,” he says firmly, trying to shake off the unwanted pang of sympathy. Dutch had been right about one thing — the gang did need money, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity for it slip away out of misguided compassion for a woman who’d literally robbed him as he’d bled out. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Soon as we near Rhodes, I’ll tie you to Boadicea the same way I did when we left Strawberry.”

You blink and utter a disbelieving, “Excuse me, what?”

“Reckon they’ll treat us both a hell of a lot nicer if they think you’re a bounty. Gives me plenty excuse for keepin’ you in one piece, too.”

Your face ventures on a quick journey through the five stages of grief. The grief in question being for the loss of your dignity. The blank look shifts to a glare. You open your mouth to spit out something no doubt acerbic and very rude, but a flash of uncertainty crosses your face and you quickly bite your tongue. Then you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally open them again, there is a defeated resignation in them that attests to a lost mental argument.

“You better ride slow if you don’t want a repeat of this morning,” you say wearily.

Arthur shrugs. “Can’t throw up if you got nothin’ in your stomach. We’ll just skip feeding you breakfast tomorrow.”

To his relief, the atmosphere lightens to blessed, familiar hostility. You tell him to go fuck himself. That you’ll literally fight him for the apples you know he has tucked away in his saddlebags. That maybe you’ll throw up anyway purely out of spite. That he’s a miserable piece of shit who you wish—

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the outcrop for a fraction of a second, painting everything beneath it into harsh shades of white and black. It strikes as sudden and violent as a fiery whip crack, leaving behind it the bittersweet scent of burnt grass and a curl of grey smoke like a departing ghost. Its near-simultaneous clap of thunder drowns out your last sentence with an ear splitting boom so encompassing that the vibration of it seems to rattle down to the bone. The silence that follows has in it the anticipatory hush of the void prior to Genesis. You shatter it with a quiet but appropriately placed, “Jesus Christ.”

The land outside is hedged low in the horizon, and the vastness of its sky swallows all else. It crowns as its dominating feature the movement of its anvil-shaped clouds. They shift leaden and portentous, translucent bellied and lit up by the jagged tongues of lightning darting throughout quick and sporadic as pale dragonflies. Roiling violet like the murky blood of some vast organism, pulsing membranous over the prairie with a fury of near biblical proportions. And below, the buttes with their strange eroded shapes like scattered islands in a black sea of grass. In the torrential dark, their silhouettes flash ivory with every strike of lightning only to sink back into the hushed umbra of night.

There is a muted look of awe on your face, as if witnessing for the first time the true scale of a storm. Something that before now had been glimpsed only through the gaps between high-shuttered buildings. Tempests caught in concrete snares and, not unlike the men that build them, diminished until they are but a feeble whisper of their former selves.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur. “I never knew rain could be like this.”

With a jolt of displeasure, he finds that the soft expression on your face renders you unexpectedly pretty in the fire’s flickering light, the amber reflection of it bright as copper in your eyes. A gentle chiaroscuro, the smooth line of your cheek and shadowed hollow of your throat the anchor points to which his eye is drawn.

You shuffle a little closer to the outlook’s rain-veiled edge. The roughspun blanket, still drawn tightly around your shoulders, shifts. Arthur quickly averts his eyes, but even so is met with a sliver of bare skin that runs neck to navel. The subtle outline of a breast, the mild fishbone curve of a rib.

And all at once he’s unbearably, disastrously hard, filled with a painful but directionless longing — not just for intimacy, but for the simple reassurance of another body pressed close, skin to skin and breath to breath. A kind of tenderness he’s been deprived of for so long that the memory of it brings not warmth but the brittle cold of hoarfrost. Absence like a thick pane of ice, the things he’s lost visible just underneath.

From the periphery of his line of sight, you’re but an indistinct blur in the vague shape of a woman. How appropriate then, that you should be the focus of this formless arousal. And how infuriatingly pathetic. He hadn’t lied when he’d said you weren’t his type, and yet here he is, his cock stiffer than it’s been in months at just the suggestion of a woman’s naked body.

In desperate search of both distraction and something to obscure himself with, Arthur pulls back the front flap of his satchel and fishes out your blue notebook. He glances briefly in your direction, already anticipating your angry shout of indignation — but you’re far too occupied with watching the progression of the storm to so much as glance in his direction.

The notebook’s contents are far more legible than he’d initially assumed. Most of the foreign characters seem to be either names or places, which makes it possible for him to pick out the main thread of most sentences.

Its first half consists of what looks like a ledger. Neatly organized columns with foreign characters and numbers that he hasn’t the slightest idea how to parse. When he flips past it, a slip of paper scrawled with the same strange, flowing text flutters from the pages and alights delicately into his lap. Arthur picks it up, and as he examines it, it occurs to him that he has no idea how to orient it.

Prior to this, he’d only ever seen Chinese characters painted on the roadside food stalls accompanying railroad workers on their long trek westwards. A strange, complex syllabary. He’d once read somewhere that each word of the language had its own unique character. A sort of pictograph that, when studied, relays its meaning to those who knew how to read it.

He scrutinizes the slip of paper in his hand, but finds himself unable to pick out even the vaguest of resemblances. The corner of the paper bears a square seal of red ink, inset with an intricate consortium of straight lines. Curiosity spent for the moment, Arthur slots the document back in place.

The rest of the notebook looks to be an odd mixture of field observations and long, ornate paragraphs about various landscapes. A few pressed wildflowers, field observations of city flora and fauna, crudely drawn animals reminiscent of the scattered petroglyphs he’s found carved in long-abandoned settlements. An earmarked passage describing the wetlands bordering St Denis, full of strikethroughs and hastily added phrases squeezed into the margins. Another describing what sounds like Cotorra Springs.

“The amber fields are dotted with sprigs of larkspurs and wild flax like blue-violet stars,” Arthur reads aloud.

You turn to face him so quickly that your wet hair arcs through the air like an ink-stained brush, scattering water droplets that sizzle and hiss when they fall into the fire. Wild-eyed as a spooked horse, but frozen into a horrified silence as he licks his finger and traces the rest of the line across the page, continuing, “And even further north, viridian-blue pools from which rise plumes of white smoke, the water still and clear as glass. Hills of black obsidian —”

You scramble towards him and, while clutching the blanket around your shoulders shut with one hand, slap the notebook out of his grip with the other. It lands perilously close to the fire, but you snatch it up without giving a second thought to the nearness of the flames.

“That’s private,” you hiss, hugging the notebook to your chest the way one might accidentally smother an infant.

“Thought it was fair turnaround, seein’ as you never extended that same courtesy to me,” he retorts.

The memory of that miserable morning after surfaces in him like a bloated corpse too persistent to stay hidden. His billfold emptied, ill-gotten gains vanished, and his journal speckled with smeared, bloodied thumbprints from beginning to end. Above a sketch of a mountain wildflower he’d drawn a question mark next to, the word “crocus ?” written in an angular, jagged scrawl.

“Yeah, because I thought you were going to die!” you argue back. “Figured you probably had your next of kin listed somewhere in there!”

Next of kin. The phrase pierces through like a stitch popped out of place, and Arthur nearly flinches. It’s an unintentional blow on your part, but nevertheless he deflects the only way he knows how. When bitten, bite back.

“Oh that’s real charitable, comin’ from the dope-peddler,” he jeers. “You save this compassion for everyone you fuck over, or just me?”

A clear and unguarded expression of hurt crosses your features. The same you’d worn when he’d had to pry his shotgun out of your hands. Forlorn, helpless as a wounded prey animal. But it passes quickly into a cold disdain, your head raised high again and your eyes hard as flint.

“Do you know,” you say quietly, lip curling with contempt. “I seriously considered cutting your throat when I finally realized who you were. I should have.”

Then you blink, forehead wrinkling as you sniff at the air. You glance at the fire, where his forgotten can of beans is beginning to burn.

Arthur curses. He hastily swipes one of his discarded riding gloves from the grass and pulls it on, then grabs the can and blows on its contents, fanning away its delicate wisp of black smoke.

You retreat to the far inner corner of the outcrop and frantically page through the notebook until you find the red-sealed paper sheafed inside. With a sigh of relief, you slump against the rough granite wall, the tense set of your shoulders loosening as though some secret string stretched taut through the frame of your body had suddenly been cut loose.

A sullen silence permeates the shelter, punctuated only by the grating scratch of metal as he scrapes burnt food off the edges of the can with a spoon.

“You forgot to mention that the whole place smells like shit,” Arthur says finally. He keeps his eyes on the can, attention focused squarely on the arduous task of excavating beans.

“What?”

“Cotorra Springs. Smells like week-old shit. Especially around the pools.”

The rustle of blankets. From the corner of his eye, he watches you tentatively scoot closer. “You’ve been there?” you ask. Your voice is still deeply reproachful, but touched with genuine curiosity.

“You haven’t?”

“No. I’ve just seen pictures. And notes from people who have.”

“Huh,” he says. He scrapes another carbonized mouthful from the can. “Could’ve fooled me, the way you wrote about it.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think so?”

“Sure.

The corner of your mouth quirks upwards in a reluctant smile that unfolds like the breaking light of a clouded dawn. “Well, that’s… that’s good to know.”

“You writin’ a book or something?” he asks.

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” The smile wilts slightly, and you drop your gaze down to the notebook on your lap. “No. Just a favor for an old friend’s husband. The man fancies himself an explorer, but can barely string a sentence together. He’s paying me to pretty up his notes for him. Half of which I think are made up. There’s some bullshit in there about an enormous rainbow colored pond full of boiling water.”

Arthur laughs. “Naw, that bit’s true. I’ve seen it. It’s a hell of a thing.”

You seem skeptical. He doesn’t blame you. Even after having walked the rust-banded edge of that craterous spring himself, his memory of it still carries with it the preternatural awe of a place half-dreamed. He tells you about the slow gradation of color leading inwards from the rim. Ochre to cadmium, to turquoise, to a deep cerulean with the unreal brilliance of a painted ocean. Steam hanging like a pungent fog. Entire stretches of ground covered in a thick, boiling mud, bubbling ominous as something out of Dante’s Inferno. A constant gurgling of earth and water, as if he were treading upon some living thing in the midst of an infernal digestion.

Halfway through his description, you flip the notebook to a clean page and ask him for a pencil, then begin scribbling down his words with an unceasing, determined hand. This bemuses him. That anyone might find his drivel meaningful enough to commit to paper is a new experience altogether. It’s an odd feeling, but not at all an unpleasant one.

That is, until you begin peppering his narrative with so many questions that it takes the better part of an hour to accommodate them.

What kind of plants grew there?

“Bunch of disgusting slippery shit around the edge. Algae or something. Other than that, can’t think of a single thing that’d lay roots in boiling water and sulfur.”

Did the mud boil like roiling water, or was it more the viscosity of a slow simmering stew?

“More like wet cement, really.”

Were there animals?

“No. Nothing there for ‘em.”

Birds?

“Didn’t see any.”

Insects?

“A shit ton of gnats, but not much else.”

How wide were the prismatic bands around the crater? What was the geology like? Did the surrounding forest taper off gradually in the vicinity of the spring, or was the loss of vegetation sudden and absolute as a drawn border?

“Give me your notebook.” he says, having finally reached the point of exasperation. “Easier if I just draw it for you.”

To his faint surprise, you hand it over without hesitation. He sketches out what he’s able to recall, all the while acutely aware of the madness of the situation. Fucking illustrating an account of his own wanderings for the woman who robbed him while they both sit in varying states of undress. Scribbling out a messy landscape in the same notebook whose contents he’d derided just a little while ago. Focusing all his attention on Cotorra Springs so as to ward away the unfortunate possibility of another inopportune erection.

The mediocre drawing he finally manages to scratch out would have disappointed him under any other occasion. Instead, he feels a warm flood of relief at its conclusion. If this doesn’t shut you up, then nothing will.

Nothing will, it seems. To his immense chagrin, the drawing sparks another round of questions. After silently admiring his work just long enough to spark hope of your satiety, you ask him about the species of the trees. Had he explored the nearby forest? Were there flowers? What season had he visited in? Was the acrid smell of sulfur present even here?

“Look,” Arthur says wearily. “You clearly come from money. Why don’t you just hire someone out to take you sometime?”

You snort at the suggestion. The corner of your mouth lifts upwards into something that’s only nominally a smile, and more the type of grimace that accompanies an old wound. “The only two men I’d trust enough to take me out into the middle of nowhere are dead. And with the money I owe, I can’t… I can’t just… you know what?” you say abruptly. “It’s getting late and I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”

And with that, you tug the blanket tight around your shoulders and huddle against the ground like a felled shrimp. You lay with your back to him, the words left unsaid hanging over you both like an unripe fruit of a question.

Arthur fetches his bedroll and unfurls it close to the fire. A battered pillow emerges from the worn tarp as he spreads it flat. After a moment of contemplation, he picks up the pillow and tosses it in your direction. It hits you square on the head.

Immediately, you sit up and snarl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with — oh.” You pick up the pillow and grasp it tight, as if at any moment he might change his mind and demand it back. Your small “thank you” is puzzled and uncertain.

“I’m gonna put out the fire,” he says. “You try to slit my throat in the dark, I’ll wring your neck.”

But the threat comes out empty and toothless, and judging by the renewed sarcasm in your voice when you tell him you’ll keep it in mind, you seem fully aware of it.

Arthur douses the flames by kicking dirt over the embers, which glow dim and vermillion for minutes afterwards, fading slow to dull, crumbling ash when the heat finally bleeds out of them. The pleasant smell of smoke lingers inside the shelter for a good while longer, but even that dissipates eventually, leaving just petrichor and the crisp, clean scent of early autumn rain.

The worst of the storm has shifted westwards. Water drips in a steady stream from the outer edge of the overhang, churning the ground below to a soup of mud. The cloud cover is still dense, but it’s thinned enough that moonlight gleams through the feathery underbelly in a pale and spattered mottle. With it, he can make out the dim outline of your body, the rise and fall of your chest in a slow, steady rhythm he sorely doubts you’d have the patience to feign.

He lies awake there in the dark for a long while, shuffling through a jumble of discordant emotion. It’s as if the pieces of several sets of puzzles have been mixed together and jammed into an incomprehensible mess, so hopelessly and thoroughly muddled that he can no longer tell where one thing starts and another ends. He sorts his way through it until the rain weakens to a grey drizzle and the drip of rainwater turns from the unbroken stream of a faucet to a series of droplets beating out an abstruse morse code against the ground.

In the end, he’s only able to definitively place a single solid sentiment. Pity.

———

Couple notes:

Arthur's understanding of Chinese is incorrect, but aligns with the assumptions a lot of Western scholars during that time period had regarding it. There was a big tendency to treat it like Japanese, which despite using some of the same characters, uses a completely different structure.

Cotorra Springs seems to be based off Yellowstone. The big boiling rainbow spring is actually real: it's called the Grand Prismatic Spring and seriously does look like something out of a fever dream. Yellowstone also does smell like sulfur in some places, but it’s not so much like week old shit as it is the potent fart of someone who’s eaten far too many deviled eggs.

No algae grows in the spring. It's actually cyanobacteria, but there's no reason Arthur would know this. It does look pretty gross up close.

[since0202]

Chapter 4

Bella hadn’t really gained consciousness the night she was found. She was in and out in a state of stable delirium. Charlie had carried her upstairs with some effort and laid her on the bed, pulling her muddy shoes off. Grace gently pulled away her raincoat and hung it up behind the door. Charlie sat on the edge of her bed and rested a hand on her side, pain etched all over his face. 

“Charlie,” Grace said barely above a whisper. “Let me get her out of the rest of the wet clothes so we can get her warm. She’s okay.” Grace put a hand on his shoulder and he closed his eyes tightly nodding his head. He picked himself up and walked slowly out the room, turning to take another pained look at Bella before he closed the door behind him. 

Grace carefully got Bella changed into warm clothes and even socked her feet in the cozy fuzzy socks Grace’s mom got her for Christmas. She covered her up and settled in next to her, placing an arm around her and listening for her constant breathing. 

“What happened?” she whispered into the dark to no one in particular. 

October 

Grace was sitting at the small three-seater kitchen table and chewing her toast methodically as she reread another section from Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man for her AP English midterm that morning. Charlie shuffled through the newspaper, his eyes darting toward the staircase every now and then. 

“She’s coming, don’t worry.” Grace mumbled between her toast without looking up from her book. Charlie squirmed uncomfortably. 

The last three weeks had not been great for anyone. Bella had collapsed in on herself and hadn’t been to school since the incident. She hadn’t been taking meals or showers and would hardly get out of a bed. Grace would quietly shuffle into their room throughout the day and plop on Bella’s bed with a plate of food. Sometimes Bella would respond after Grace patiently waited for sometimes an hour, and sometimes Bella would fall back asleep. 

The nightmares were the worst. Almost every night, Grace was startled awake, her heart crashing through her chest and hurtling over her bed to get to Bella’s. It sounded like a dying animal, like someone was twisting a hot knife in Bella’s stomach. Grace could normally calm her before Charlie hurried into the doorframe. After three weeks of this though, Grace would normally find herself waking up in Bella’s bed, an arm wrapped around her, after falling asleep next to her to calm her. 

But after almost a month of Bella confined to her bed, Charlie put his foot down and told Bella she had to get back to her life. Grace agreed, holding her hand and nodding sympathetically. Bella had agreed reluctantly, that far away look permanently etched in her eyes. And that morning, as Grace poured over her book and Charlie cleared his throat for the umpteenth time, Bella finally stumbled down the stairs, gave a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and nodded toward the door.

Without looking up, Grace closed her book and headed toward the door, running a hand down Bella’s arm reassuringly as she passed. 

Grace’s every day had become mechanical as she cared for Bella and kept Charlie on track. She relished in the work of caring for them a little bit, but found the exhaustion setting in as Bella finally poked back into the real world. She had never told Grace what had happened in the woods that night and now it felt too dangerous to ask. 

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Bella’s eyes gravitated toward the empty space that Edward’s car used to occupy. Her face darkened and she turned an ashen color. Grace glanced at the spot from her space behind the wheel and back over to Bella. 

“You can do this.” She gave a soft smile. “Ready?” Grace didn’t wait for an answer and pushed the door open after a couple of seconds and hiked her backpack over her shoulder. Bella took off toward her first class, head down, hood up, and circumvented the crowd. Grace watched after her and started heading toward the staircase when she heard a familiar shout across the parking lot. 

“Hey Grace!” She whipped around to see Jacob Black waving from the end of the sidewalk. She smiled and jogged over to meet him. 

“What are you doing here?” She breathed out a puff of steam, indicative of the chilly autumn air that had started to settle over the greater Washington area. 

Standing in front of Jacob, Grace realized that he now towered over her. She’d only seen him a month ago but the difference was jarring. His shoulders had broadened and his face had sharpened around the edges. His hair was still the same long sheath of black that he ritualistically pulled back out of his face in a half bun, but he still retained an aura of softness. His bright white smile gleamed out from his warm face, a reflex she thought. 

“I heard Bella’s not been having an easy time since…” he hesitated and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well you know. So I brought something that might help. Will you give it to her for me?” Grace’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“Sure what is it?” 

From the depths of his pockets, he pulled out a small dream catcher and held it up in front of Grace’s face. Grace looked upon it with sad wonder and watched the blue and green stones shine in the light. 

“It catches bad dreams.” Jacob stated nonchalantly and gave a small shrug.Grace reached her hand up and took it from his gently, her fingers brushing his ever so slightly. A hot white flash pulsed up at her hand and she glanced up quickly at Jacob to see if he noticed. His face was set as he watched her examine the dream catcher. 

“This is actually perfect. Thanks,” she smiled and carefully stowed it in her backpack. “I’ll get it to her.” 

“Cool, thanks.” Jacob took a step back from Grace and she immediately felt a draft of cold air push between them. She fought against a shiver rising up her back. “Anyway, if you need a break from the pale faces, you’re always welcome to stop by...hang out. Just to get away,” Grace searched his face but it was genuine and welcoming. “If you want.” 

“Thanks, I might just take you up on that.” While returning to the rez didn’t seem like the most exciting idea to her at the moment, she did need a breather from the never ending painfest in the Swan house. 

Jacob gave her an awkward nod and then turned and took off down the road toward his car. The bell had long ago rang and Grace had never heard it. Only once Jacob had cleared her immediate area did she realize that the lawn in front of the school was silent and a soft drizzle misted around her. She took one last look as Jacob climbed into his car and she bolted for her first class, unsure of how late she actually was. 

November

Bella had resumed her job at the Newton’s outdoor store. Grace had taken up a side gig running groceries to the elderly on her weekends to make some gas money and pad her fund for college. 

As the seasons changed, Bella seemed to sink further into herself. Sometimes Grace would find her just sitting and staring off into space for hours. Grace couldn’t seem to shake her from her comatose state sometime, so she thought it best to leave her be for now. 

On one particularly sunny November afternoon, Grace was tasked with running a set of groceries to a couple in La Push. This was odd because most patrons of the Forks grocery store were local, but this couple was close to the edge of the rez. After she dropped off the groceries and gave a warm goodbye to the couple, Grace was buoyed with a moment of happiness. 

This was her first foray onto the rez and she felt just fine. No earth shattering, stomach dropping, blackout inducing, cold sweats and pain. She was suddenly shot through with a desire to test this newfound feeling deeper onto the rez. 

Grace winded her way through the damp and leaf covered streets toward the only house she thought she could bear. As she pulled into the familiar dirt driveway, her truck announced her presence. 

She hopped down from the truck, taking in a deep breath of autumn air and letting the coolness wash over her. This was easy. She could do this. Why had she been so scared? 

“Grace!” Jacob was wiping a tool off with a oil-dirtied rag and was frozen for just a moment in the entrance of the small garage before he tossed it to the side and took off for her, the smile stretching across his whole face so hard that she thought she might burst with excitement. 

When he didn’t stop running toward her, Grace couldn’t help but let a laugh escape as he scooped her up in a warm, tight hug and spun her around. She held on just as tightly back and felt the feeling of home pulse through her. Her heart quickened and she took another deep breath as he held her for a second before setting her down. The energy wafting between them was natural, electric, and the world seemed to quiet around them temporarily. 

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t surprised by Jacob’s reaction. They’d only seen each other a handful of times since she’d moved here in the summer, but it’s like they fell into step, or like a  magnet appeared that kept them together once they were near enough. 

“It’s so good to see you.” he beamed. 

“You too! You said I should stop by and I was in the area dropping off some groceries to the Tallutes, so here I am.” Grace realized now that she had no idea what she was doing here. She hadn’t really thought about it, it just felt like the truck carried her here. 

“Well, I was just working on the rabbit in the garage, do you wanna come in and hang out?” Leave it to Jacob to make things feel effortless. She let out an easy sigh and nodded vigorously, following him into the garage. 

While she watched him work and handed him the odd tool every now and then, they settled into easy conversation. They talked about school, the rez politics, Bella, how Grace was feeling in Forks now that she felt more settled, her plans for college, and his plans for opening a garage one day. Nothing felt too hard, even when she started talking about her dad, unprompted. Jacob had slid out from under the car and sat on the low rolling stool in front of her to give his undivided attention while she talked about how different it was being back on the rez without him, seeing as she had left here with him, but that the pain hadn’t come over her like she thought it would. He watched her face for a long time as she spoke.

When it got too dark for Jake to continue working and when Grace thought it might be time to head back so as not to worry Charlie. They made their way out from the garage side by side, laughing, Grace bumping her shoulder into Jake’s arm as they walked. They heard the sound of car doors slamming and looked up in time to see Billy and Harry Clearwater emerge under the patio light. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to make it out to the rez,” Billy crossed his arms over his lap as a gentle smile grew across his face. 

“Good to see you Billy, Harry,” Grace nodded at them both, the tension somewhat returning in her body. Billy seemed genuinely happy to see her and Jake standing next to her kept her feeling warm. 

“Is that little Grace Alo?!” Harry beamed and drew her into a tight hug, “It’s good to see you little one.” Grace muffled a greeting of hello and once released retreated back to Jacob’s side. He looked down and laughed a little at her. 

“You should join us, there’s a tribal gathering next Friday. A lot of familiar faces will be there and would love to see you.” Harry suggested. 

Grace froze. Billy looked at her expectantly. She glanced up at Jacob. 

“Uuuuuh,” her mouth hung open in uncertainty, but Jacob shrugged and gave her a little nod and she looked back to Harry, “Sure, why not?” Inside her head, she was screaming. This was going to be too much for sure, why had she agreed to this? 

She could feel her heartbeat rocket as Harry smiled and clasped his hands together in excitement. Billy nodded graciously and turned his chair to wheel up the ramp. 

Grace internally crumbled as she ambled the rest of the way toward the truck. Jake pulled open the driver side door and she climbed in before he shut it behind her. He rested his forearms across the open window and looked up at her, 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just not sure I can actually make it next week.” the pained look returned to Grace’s face. 

“It’ll be fine. You should come over here and we’ll walk there together. Sound good?” Grace gave a small moan of uncertainty and he leaned back from the window and smacked it with his hands. “Good! Love the enthusiasm.” 

She started the key in the ignition and shook her head laughing some. 

“Be careful driving home, the wolves are out.” Jacob looked up at the protruding full moon making it’s way up over the treeline. 

She laughed and nodded, “I will. Thanks Jake...and thanks for today.” 

“Anytime… hey do me a favor and give me a call when you get in. Just so I know you haven’t been whisked off into the woods somewhere.”

She nodded and pulled out of the drive, letting the lights wash over his broad frame. This was the best she’d felt in years and all it took was one drive to the reservation and a day spent in the garage with someone who was suddenly becoming her best friend. 

As she drove her way back to Forks, she ducked her head to see out the windshield and look up at the moon. It was so bright but it cast odd shadows on the trees that made her second guess what Jacob had said about the wolves. 

When she reached home, she hurried inside and picked up the receiver in the kitchen, quickly dialing the number she remembered from her childhood. It took two quick rings before she heard a: “Grace?” on the other end. 

She couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, it’s me. I just got in. Unscathed.” 

“Glad to hear it. No wolves I take it?” 

“None that could tempt me.” 

“Alright then, little red riding hood.” 

She laughed a little too loud and heard Charlie’s snores cease and shuffling. 

“Oops, I woke Charlie. Gotta go.” 

“See you soon, red.” She could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. 

[katierosefun]

Heyy, just wanted to say I LOVE your stories (and all you headcanons and tags hehe) I'm new here and wanted to ask how and when you started writing fanfiction for star wars and if you have any tips 😊

hello! thank you for the kind words :’) and of course, welcome!! 

so if we want to get really technical about things, i started writing star wars fic like,,,,waaaay back in 2013, and i kinda cringe a little when i think of those fics now because lol i was thirteen years old then--and i wrote for a little while until maybe 2016-ish? and then took a break because of mental health things, and then got back into writing fic in the past year and a half or so! 

as for the how, i wanted to write star wars fic mostly because as a thirteen year old, i was devastated by the season five finale (back then, that was when the show just got cancelled and the season five finale was the only series finale we were gonna get!), and i just kinda wanted to write all these stories about the tcw fam actually being happy. filling in the gaps and all. (lol considering how my gut reaction to the tcw season seven finale was also to write as much fic as possible, i can safely say that some things just don’t change.) 

as for tips! i got a little into writing gen fic specifically here, but as for writing fic in general: (and under the cut because i,,,as usual, went off for a while.)

1. rewatch/reread source material! this is something i usually do when i’m trying to refresh my memory on a certain episode--i won’t watch through the whole thing, sometimes i’ll just kind of jump around, but i like to get some quick look back into the source stuff to put myself in the right headspace to explore how to extend/expand the story somehow. 

of course, if you’re writing something that’s an AU then you don’t really have to worry about this, but!! rewatching the source can also just be super helpful when you’re trying to characterize properly/try to get a feel for what the characters’ voices are like. 

2. wookiepedia is your  best friend, but if you don’t have enough info on something, either search through fanon star wars meta or!! just make up something on your own! like, i cannot tell you the amount of times i’ve wanted to tear my hair out because i couldn’t find enough information on x or if i had to stop and be like “wait, but does star wars even have y??” sometimes, wookiepedia is helpful for providing those answers, and other times, blogs like @gffa really provides a big, broad look at all the stuff in star wars, and her blog kinda runs like wookiepedia itself, so i can guarantee that you’ll find some useful stuff if you’re ever kind of lost about what certain jedi customs/culture or in general, what different cultures were like in the galaxy far, far away. 

but also, as i’ve mentioned, i think it’s okay to just kinda ignore the technical stuff and just make something up in star wars as you go along. you don’t like that glass in star wars is called transparisteel? then use glass. you’re not sure if star wars even celebrates the new year? screw it, why not? you’re the writer--you get creative license!

3. there is no such thing as “too much” of one trope. so, idk if you might struggle with this, but just in case you do--sometimes, fic writers will hit a wall and be like “no i can’t post this because so many people have already written about this/used this trope/etc.” to that, i say pffft, nah. there’s a post floating around here on tumblr about a cake analogy and how like,,,to you, you might have just brought another cake to a party with already so many cakes, and you might feel kinda embarrassed about that, but to the large majority of people? all they see is more cake, and who doesn’t love more cake? 

what i’m basically trying to get at here is!! write whatever you want and don’t worry about if someone’s already done it, because everyone in fandom lives to see their favorite storylines expanded over and over and over again/everyone lives to see their favorite tropes used over and over and over again. fic is wonderful for that very reason, and you shouldn’t deprive yourself of enjoying that. 

4. this might seem kinda trivial, but spellcheck and formatting is...mostly important. the unfortunate thing about fic is that sometimes people will click out the second they see a huge block of text like so: 

“this is just a practice run,” i say as i start this paragrah. i don’t really know what i’m writing about but this is an example, and i know that this is probably going to look really, really ugly on the screen but here we go oh the things i do for explaining fic i already know that this has gone long enough but who is to stop me you know? wait no i haven’t made any spelling errors yet to prove my point so okay let me think of a common spelling error i can’t think of any right now but hm let’s see i will causally say that i have made a spelling error. oh look! i have made a spelling error (well, not a spelling error, more like a mix-up of words) because you can tell that instead of writing casually which would be more correct i wrote causally and those two are very different things. but there are other spelling errors that can sometimes be a turn-off for readers like when they notice that the k in kenobi isn’t capitilized and once or twice that’s all fine and most people will overlook that, but if you do that consistently then most people will be turned off and click into another fic and oh dear it seems that i am actually explaining things so i guess that means i should stop with this ugly paragraph and actually move forward. “move on!” i shout to myself now. (and just pretend that something like this continues for a good two or three pages.)

do you see how ugly that is? it’s an eye-strain to most people when they read, and you can write the most beautiful fic in the world, but if the formatting and the spelling is off, then most people will move to a different fic. (which is, again, unfortunate, especially for younger and newer writers, but! ‘tis a thing that comes with fic.) 

5. have fun! don’t get yourself caught up with appealing to the crowd. write what you want to write first and foremost, because at the end of the day, it’s you who’s putting in the work and the effort to craft a story, and if you’re about to invest your time and energy into anything in your free time, then it should be something that brings you at least some joy and comfort. so go on and write, and keep writing if you enjoy it! no one can take that away from you. 

hope that all helps!! 

[genesisrose74]

Rivals?

A/n: I have so many unfinished drafts in my docs but I wrote this in one night and kind of love it so here it is - reader is the manager of Nohebi but doesn’t realize that her boyfriend is the captain of their rivaled team until the last minute :p I love these city bois as Tanaka would say

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader

Words: 2697

*******

You move easily around the building, weaving through teams and spectators to approach your team with a new set of freshly filled water bottles. An easy smile rests on your face upon seeing your boys already preparing to warm up for their next game, the group seeming more fired up by the minute. 

“What’s got everyone so pumped for today’s set of games?” you sing, handing a bottle off to Nohebi’s captain. Daishou sends you a look, as if the answer you’re looking for is obvious, but he quickly realizes that you hadn’t a clue about the significance of today’s first match. 

“I almost forgot,” the male murmurs, before taking a sip of his drink, “this is your first time seeing us play against...them.”

“Them isn’t a very helpful or descriptive term, Suguru,” you remark.

Sakishima picks up the conversation and sidles up next to you, ruffling your hair with his hand and snickering as you playfully smack him away. “We’re playing our rivals in the first match of the day,” he explained. “I guess it never really crossed my mind that you wouldn’t know, seeing that you’ve been with us for a whole year now.”

“Should I have already known?” you inquire, tilting your head up at the setter. 

The third year shakes his head. “I guess not? We’ve never really brought them up since they haven’t been on our roster this season.”

You glance around your team’s half of the court, noting how the entire group seemed to be more on edge than usual. There was the same amount of focus and precision they commonly have, but now there’s a definite air of intensity that surrounds every Nohebi player. Ticked jaws, slightly narrowed eyes, stiff limbs; little signs of aggravation peeking their way through. 

Both third years in your vicinity look curiously at each other when you tsk, discarding the set of water bottles on the team bench and clapping your hands together. “Well that just won't do, now will it?”

You grab Hiroo’s attention and gesture to the rest of the team as they practice digging drills, motioning for them to come to the sidelines for a moment. When every player gathers around you with questioning eyes, you offer them all a warm smile. 

“What’s up with you boys being so stiff?” you start, a disarming lightness in your voice paired with your easy expression already relaxing some of the team. “Rivals or not, acting like grumpy old statues during warm ups isn’t going to do any good, ya dummies.”

You hold both your hands out to Daishou and pull him forward when he confusedly accepts, although the corners of his mouth twitch into a ghost of a smile at your antics. 

“First of all, I’m making all of you stretch with a partner to get out all that pent up stress in your bodies, cause apparently you didn’t do that enough earlier,” you declare, “and then I’ll have Suguru do as he sees fit before the game starts, so don’t worry if you need to get some more digs in.”

Each boy decides to give into your demands, grins spreading on their faces as they watch you in the zone. You pause for a moment after seeing their change in mood, scanning their amused expressions with a slight pout. “What’s up now?”

Hiroo chuckled before poking at your side. “Nothing, just watching our lovely manager at work,” he answers.

Daishou glances at his team with a nod, turning to face you completely. “Boys, let's thank our manager for looking out for us.”

A light blush colors your cheeks as each team member bows to you, a chorus of “thank you!”s resounding throughout the gym. 

“Alright, go stretch out and relax a bit,” you waved them off. The boys laughed at your bashful behavior, some ruffling your hair as they went to find space on the court to do as you’d said, and this time you don’t bring yourself to swat them away.

Your Nohebi, as much as they could tease you to no end and be a major handful, loved having you as their team manager. You were a respected presence on and off the sidelines, and you fit perfectly into their little family despite having only joined the team at the end of last year. You were incredibly proud to call the Nohebi Volleyball Club your second home.

You find yourself a seat beside Coach Omizu on the bench and watch the boys contentedly. A thought drifts across your mind for a moment, and your eyes graze with half interest over the tournament schedule in Coach’s hands. “So, which school are we rivals with then?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of them,” he notes, handing you the clipboard. “It’s Nekoma High.”

Your eyes widen in recognition, finger underlining the bolded school name that was fated to match up against Nohebi next. 

“You’re serious?” disbelief is evident on your features as you reread the name for a fourth time in your head. 

“I’m quite positive,” Coach Omizu raises an eyebrow. “What seems to be the issue?”

“Oh-nothing! I've definitely heard of them, is all.”

Thoughts went racing through your head as you process what steps to take next. 

Maybe it won’t get brought up if you don’t say anything? 

Ha, sure. Okay. Next.

What if you pull him aside before…?

Not a chance you could do that without your entire team seeing you. 

Well, it’s possible that this rivalry isn’t as intense as you’re thinking! 

As your mind flashes back to that strong sense of unease that had settled among your team just minutes prior, you realize that you’d resorted to wishful thinking in that regard.

What were the odds that your boyfriend would be on the very team that rivaled your own? Apparently pretty damn high, you internally groan. 

You had never thought to mention the guy you were dating to the Nohebi boys, let alone what school he went to. It had just never come up in conversation, as the team likely didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable digging too far into your personal affairs. As much as they knew about you, this was a topic that was completely unexplored. 

You snap out of your daze when the boys start to gather around the sidelines once more. In an attempt to temporarily push away your jitters about this turn of events, you scramble to pass out waters to each player who needed one after the hitting drill Daishou had decided upon. 

Speaking of which, the Nohebi captain senses your unease when you hand him water without making eye contact. 

“You alright?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. 

A couple quick nods of reassurance is all he’s met with, leaving the third year even more inquisitive than before.

“Nekoma should be starting their warm ups pretty soon now,” Daishou states, nearly causing you to jump in nervousness. 

You shake your head after returning the bottles to their respective water carriers, taking a spot beside the second years in the team huddle. Coach Omizu went on his way to turn in some paperwork for today’s matches, leaving just you and the Nohebi players to converse for a moment.

No need to psych yourself out, stupid. It’ll be fine.

The heads of all Nohebi players whip around to watch the gymnasium doors opening, met with loud cheers from people in the stands. There was that unusual tension again.

“Here we go,” hisses one of the boys near you. 

Please, please be fine.

You manage to crane your head towards the entrance as well, heart picking up its pace in your chest when your eyes meet a very, very familiar pair leading the way for Nekoma High. His catlike smirk, playful as ever, seems aimed at the entire team. But you know for a fact that his sights are set directly on you. 

“Damn Tetsurou,” Daishou mumbles under his breath, staring daggers at the Nekoma captain. Who, you forgot to mention, was your darling boyfriend. 

Oh, this is not gonna be fine. 

Kuroo scans your team with a smile that screams of insincerity. “Good to see you again, Nohebi.”

Daishou sends the male a venomous grin of his own. “Likewise, Nekoma. Let’s have a good game today.”

You have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the blatant display of hostility. Instead, you choose to observe the remaining members of Nekoma’s team, many familiar faces in your sights. Kenma, for one, notices you immediately, and you make a face that’s partially a cry for help concerning the unfolding scene. The second year can only shrug, his deadpan expression hinting at his personal distaste with everything going on as well. 

Lev and Yaku also spot you, a subtle finger against your lips signaling them to keep quiet, and Yaku spreads this information along to the rest of the team. You make a mental note to buy the Nekoma libero whatever food he wants the next time you visit, just for being an absolute angel.

Despite Yaku’s kind attempt to keep your situation under the radar, one look at your boyfriend tells you that his actions might soon be in vain. He’s staring you down like you’re the only person in the building, and his gaze does not go unnoticed by the boys of Nohebi. Sakishima moves to stand protectively in front of you, eyes narrowed at the male opposite him.

“What’s captured your attention so completely, captain?” the setter practically sneers.

You nearly facepalm right then and there as Kuroo’s smug grin only widens. The damn bastard. 

“Oh, my bad, I just couldn’t help looking at your gorgeous manager,” he apologizes, sounding anything but sorry.

Good Lord, you should not be feeling this attracted to him right now. He’s about to get himself pummeled by the entire Nohebi squad if he doesn’t quit talking, and here you are feeling a heated blush fan over your face.

Daishou, on the other hand, looks about ready to throw down. “Alright, I’m going to ask you once to back the hell off, Kuroo.” All of the boys behind him nod in agreement, and your heart warms at how protective your boys are, despite the pretty terrible timing for such a moment to occur.

The Nekoma captain locks eyes with you, and there’s a ghost of an apology in his expression, although it’s substantially overwhelmed by the mischief shimmering in his irises.

“Sorry, kitten. Didn’t want to stir up trouble,” he coos, lying through his teeth. “I just wanted to say hello to my precious girl.”

The third year beside you is teetering on the edge, ready to lunge at Kuroo, but a hand on his arm has him turning to you with frustration written all over his face. “Say the word and I’ll punch his stupid rooster ass into next week,” he growls. You shake your head with a short laugh, and his expression morphs to one of slight confusion.

“It’s alright, Suguru. He’s just trying to get a reaction out of you boys,” you reassure him, before moving your gaze to your stupid boyfriend. “You’re the dumbest person alive, Tetsu.”

“Aw, come on. That was pretty good,” he insists. “But I do owe you some sort of repayment for making you watch that.”

“Way to state the obvious,” you scoff. “I’d say that a hug is required - as part one of repayment.”

The third year snickers and opens his arms to you, eyes flashing with affection. “I can work with that.” 

His embrace is warm and protective once you jog over to him, and your will to act upset at his earlier attempt to rile the Nohebi boys nearly melts away when he kisses the top of your head. “Hi, kitten.”

The captain doesn’t let you out of his arms as you turn to face your gaping team with a sheepish smile. “So, this is my boyfriend - who owes you an apology, by the way - apparently you already all know each other.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, boys. I was just playing around,” he chimes in.

Hiroo steps forward, eyes completely serious. “Y/n, if he’s keeping you hostage, blink twice.”

The sentence alone has you cackling, and Kuroo’s pouty grumbling throws you further into hysterics. You can even hear Kenma guffawing from behind, although the hair covering the setter’s face muffles the sound. 

“Pffft-Did you hear that, Tetsu? You’re like my kidnapper!” You wheeze, holding his arms for support lest you fall over.

“Alright, I get it,” he mumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Now I feel like a predator.”

You manage to calm down your laughing fit, tilting your head upwards to lovingly pat your boyfriend’s cheek. “Aw, come on baby. You know I don’t really think that.”

The utter disgust radiating off the Nohebi boys at your affectionate display is almost suffocating when you spare them another look. Even the first years, with no prior exposure to the Nekoma team in a real game, look prepared to pry you away from the smug captain at any moment. With a parting squeeze to Kuroo’s hands, you return to your team with a hint of anxiousness. 

Daishou is in front of you in an instant with calculating eyes, which doesn’t do much to ease your timid stature. To your surprise, however, the captain simply lets out an sigh after studying you for a moment, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Are you happy with him?”

Despite his clearly exhausted tone, there’s sincerity in the question, and your anxiety melts away into a soft smile when you realize each of the boys behind him shared the same inquiry.

“I am,” you confirm without hesitation.

“Then that’s good enough for me.” 

The third year turns to the remainder of the team, motioning for them to reform their previous huddle. This time, he nudges you into the middle of the circle, nodding at you to lead the team pep talk. You smile excitedly at his allowance, seeing as you’ve always begged to do it at least once during the season.

“Alright, so this has already started off as an interesting game day,” you begin with an apologetic grimace, “but don’t think I’m taking that as any excuse to get distracted from your game. If anything, I think you have all the more motivation to kick Nekoma’s ass, so let me see some fire out there! Okay?”

The boys chorus back with cheers of agreement, and everyone joins their hands in for the team cheer. “Nohebi...Dominate!” 

You laugh when all the players pass by you for a high five before finding their positions on the court. Instantly, the rivalry is back in full force, and the fire is only stoked when many of Nekoma’s starters wave at you, fully intending to rile their opponents. 

“Hey y/n! You still coming by tomorrow for that group lunch we have planned?” Lev happily greets you from the opposite side of the court. 

You playfully roll your eyes, knowing that the poor Russain first year just dug his own grave, but you shoot him a thumbs up in confirmation all the same. He pulls an ever-taunting akanbe face towards your team at your response, but he is quickly dragged away from the net when Yaku snags him by the back of the shirt. “Lev, you lanky-ass idiot! Cut it out!”

“I think I’m owed a congratulatory kiss after I win this one, how about you?” Kuroo suggests to you with a cocky grin. 

“Yeah, Kenma will give you a fat smooch afterwards, win or lose,” you fire back.

The second year of discussion visibly gags at the thought, while the Nohebi starters try to hide their laughter. “So help me, I will never let you on my Animal Crossing Island again.”

With that final interaction, the teams began their first match of the day. It would be an understatement to say that your boys had a lot more fire under their steps than usual, which you chalked up to being another aspect of their heated rivalry. But, while no one on either side would admit, this match in particular seemed fueled just a little bit more than their last face-offs against each other. 

[joanna-lannister]

TAG 9 PEOPLE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THEIR INTERESTS

TAGGED BY: @alexcabotgf thank you so much baby, i freaking loved doing this ❤️✨

MUSIC

fave genre? mostly rock and pop, tho i tend to listen a bit of everything depending on the mood

fave artist? TAYLOR SWIFT, imagine dragons, placebo, halsey, t.a.t.u, olivia rodrigo + a few french artists probably no one knows here rip

fave song? my fave song tend to never be the same but right now, it's ivy by taylor swift, ahaha thank you for the whole breakdown, inspiration and obsession blondie! 😂😭

song currently stuck in your head? for some reasons, all too well and cruel summer by taylor swift, don't ask why i don't even know myself

5 fave lyrics? hard to pick only 5 lyrics tbh and most of them are going to be taylor but...

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand — ivy by taylor swift

my love had been frozen / deep blue, but you painted me golden — dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift

like the naked leads the blind / i know i'm selfish, i'm unkind / sucker love i always find / someone to bruise and leave behind — every you every me by placebo

they say these are the golden years / but i wish i could disappear / ego crush is so severe / god, it's brutal out here — brutal by olivia rodrigo

they told me all of my cages were mental / so i got wasted like all my potential — this is me trying by taylor swift

radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands | pop or indie | loud or silent volume | slow or fast songs | music video or lyrics video | speakers or headset | riding a bus in silence or while listening to music | driving in silence or with radio on (i'm too gay to drive but u know)

BOOKS

fav book genre? drama / thrillers / horror

fav writer? i don't think i have a favorite writer? if i have to choose, i'd probably say gillian flynn and agatha christie tho

fav book? the virgin suicides by jeffrey eugenides

fav book series? i'll be honest but, book series ain't really my thing so i'm gonna pick up twilight by stephenie meyer because i have been stuck with it since i'm a teen. still need to read the hunger games tho

comfort book? and then there were none by agatha christie

perfect book to read on a rainy day? sisters under the skin by willa marsh

fave characters? amy dunne, lux lisbon, camille preaker, vera claythorne

5 quotes from your fave books that you know by heart?

we knew the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love, and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them. — the virgin suicides by jeffrey eugenides

she wasn’t even sure if she loved him, as much as they were fused. like he was an extra appendage, a part of her that could never be severed. a single heart beating between them. the two of them lived in a bubble of their own making. other people might see the dark edges, but they saw only the gilded center. — the roanoke girls by amy engel

tampon commercial, detergent commercial, maxi pad commercial, windex commercial - you'd think all women do is clean and bleed. — gone girl by gillian flynn

these violent delights have violent ends. — romeo and juliet by william shakespeare

a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. — sharp objects by gillian flynn

hardcover or paperback | buy (i mostly buy my books as second hand tho) or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS (both? depends honestly) | judging by the covers or by the summary (same, both, but usually the cover has to appeal me first before i give a look at the summary) | rereading or reading just once

TV AND MOVIES

fave tv/movie genre? drama / sci-fi / horror and thrillers / biopic

fave movie? marie antoinette by sofia coppola

comfort movie? tangled, love, rosie, titanic, mamma mia!

fave tv show? game of thrones

most rewatched tv show? lmao honestly and it won't be a surprise but game of thrones lmao i'm not even sorry, and i used to rewatch A LOT the walking dead from season 1 to season 5 back in the days tho.

5 fave characters?

cersei lannister — game of thrones

jaime lannister — game of thrones

clarke griffin — the 100

bellamy blake — the 100

octavia blake — the 100

+ kudos to eleanor henstridge because she means so much to me

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once (unless it's a fave, but otherwise i just watch once)

TAGGING: @captainwilldameron @ballroomofmymindp @daynes @jckeperalta @ohwarnette @lameblake @lahnister @ferrisbuellers @aesedais

[artificialashley]

top 5 drag race fics that aren't mine (not me being arrogant, simply wanting to avoid looking like i'm fishing xo)

Sorry for the slow answer (see previous ask regarding my laptop charger) but ly and thanks for keeping me entertained omg

- Night & Day by Kite // this is in my golden list of fave fic from any fandom ever. which dates back to when i was 13. and only has 4 fics on it (or like 14 depending how you read it). if that doesnt describe my love for it then what does? as much as i love a bit of fluff....sometimes i can be a right slag for something a bit darker and this fic made me feel so many emotions i didnt even know i had??? and the storytelling is impeccable - the way kite chose to write (each chapter the other girls POV of the same events) was just so clever, really showing what each girl was wanting/feeling and making the miscommunication so much more frustrating (in turn, making the pay offs so much better when they came). i honestly might go reread it now because talking about it is giving me chills!

- How Far I’ll Go by Meggie and Mia-Ugly // I dont need to tell you how great this fic is because you already know but im going to anyway...the clear thought and effort and planning behind this fic is insane and it SHINES through in the writing. the way they write nina’s awkward and anxious character and obvious crush on monet is just so endearing but also so real at the same time? i dont think ive ever rooted for a character so much? it is perfection and should be framed

- I Don’t Want To Be Your Friend by lindseyluvsdrag // although i no longer see much appeal in pearlet now, they are for sure what brought me to this fandom and it makes me sad that some of my fave fics from that era are gone now. thankfully this one isnt!! reading it gives me chills because i can pinpoint it back to such a specific era of my life, mostly because i was so obsessed with this fic and its sequel that i read it everywhere: in the tent on my bronze Duke of Edinburgh, in business gcse when I’d finished my coursework faster than the rest of the class so had to spend three months “revising”, at a durham rowing regatta my parents dragged me to. i love this fic for the nostalgia it brings me but that doesnt takeaway from how good the plot, writing and character development is too! this is probably the reason i started writing drag race fic in the first place

- Elastic Heart by Mia-Ugly // and the reason i came back and write drag race fanfic now? here it is. this fic, and the whole branjie movement (ignoring your ask to stuff your move in here), came at a time in my life when i didnt know how much i needed it!! the last time i read or wrote fanfic was around when season 8 aired but there i was telling my dickhead of a boyfriend i was sick and spending my entire easter writing and reading beautiful fics like this one to keep me sane. i started reading at a chance and was hooked right away, the angst was real and it was so excited to read alongside the season airing (and watching mia basically predict the branjie lip sync was just golden). the writing is of the highest quality and i find myself coming back to it constantly.

-  The Mystery of the Journal by Zyan, Conflicted Looks Good on You by Mina and Arch back, heart attack by Atresia - I couldn’t not have some crygi on this list after the phase i went through last year but couldn’t chose a fave so here are three...mystery of the journal is just beautiful? i cant really describe the feeling it gave me but it was kinda like i was watching a film? those 12k words really told a story and i was so there for it. Conflicted looks good on you is here for its sheer comedy and turn of phrase? honestly iconic and i cant wait to reread it after exams because the summer feeling it manages to capture is just epic. as much as i love crystal isnt counting i decided to include this fic by atresia because its smut and i feel like i never really tell people their smut is good bc i feel weird about it but its 2 am and ive ate 3 drumstick lollies, 5 refreshers and 3 of those other lollies (idk their names but sugar) so yeah this smut is good!!!

honourable mentions to tree house kisses by veronica and scorpio which i swear i’ll finish someday, everything ive read by grapefruit and mac and strawberry daiquiri by miss bianca (which omg im gonna get to drink on sunday)

sorry for that rollercoaster of fic recs xoxo

ask me my top 5 anything!

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: January 2021

A new year but this monthly recap of media consumed keeps on keeping on! Here’s how January shaped up.

……….FILM……….

Little Shop of Horrors (1986) I’d forgotten how bonkers the ending is. Just so much fun and hopefully someday I’ll be able to check a stage production of the musical. Funny and horrifying in a way that only the absurd can be.

Time Bandits (1981) Just surreal. I wasn’t exaaaactly sure what to expect but somehow it completely delivered. I love a good fantasy picaresque. Silly and sincere but perhaps not the best pacing, I still love the whole premise and execution.

A Simple Favor (2018) In looking up what year this was released, it appears to be billed as a black comedy and...okay. It’s absolutely a weird movie and maybe putting it into a category is unfair. Some of the twists definitely feel like they’d work better in a book. I sound like I hated the movie but I mean...it kept me hooked the entire runtime, but I’m not sure I’d recommend it. Like I said, it’s a weird one.

……….TELEVISION……….

Chernobyl (Episode 1.01 to 1.05) Oofadoof. I mean I knew it was going to be bleak, but I wasn’t expecting the parallels to the current situation (science denial, underplaying severity due to politics, and just a general attitude of “I can’t see it so it’s fine”) to really hit home. Not for the faint of heart but really fantastic television for those that can stomach it.

Superstore (Episode 1.01 to 1.11) After Chernobyl, we needed something a little...lighter. It’s one of those sitcoms where you don’t reeeeeally need to watch them in any order, and it’s nice and light and fun. I mean I was sold on the idea that the co-lead is Ginsberg from Mad Men.

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Episode 4.01 to 4.08) Across four seasons there were absolutely a couple episodes that really delivered on the premise (or at least what I had hoped from the series). Batibat! The “TV” episode! All good stuff. But the rest of the time it just felt like it both had too much going on (in the background) and not enough happening (in the foreground). And I was shocked, SHOCKED, at the implications of the very last scene. Why include this?!? Anyway I might check out the comics in the hopes that it delivers a little better.

The Bachelor (Episode 25.01 to 25.04) This season started strong, but I’ll admit that Victoria feels like a villain from the early 2000s and this past episode (where new contestants are introduced) felt like the show at its worst (mean-spirited, focusing on women fighting each other, and at the same time kinda dull). Will it get better? I mean hell if I should know. 

The Stranger (Episode 1.01 to 1.08) Solid British mystery series and Rupert from Ted Lasso makes an appearance! The season started with some...frustrating decisions being made, but the series evens out after a few episodes and most of the characters learn from their questionable decisions so overall, a satisfying watch.

……….READING……….

Lords and Ladies by Terry Pratchett (Complete) I’ve always loved Pratchett’s writing and Discworld is, without a doubt, my favourite fantasy setting. It really feels like he’s hit his stride with balancing fantasy tropes, novel ideas, his humour, and his good-natured characters. Fantastic read and I can’t recommend this series enough. If you’re looking for an alternative to grimdark fantasy, this is it.

Animal Wife by Lara Ehrlich (Complete) A beautiful collection of short stories that almost feels like a collection of long-form poetry. There’s a rhythm and musicality to each entry that is unlike anything I’ve read before. Perhaps not as over-the-top or...fun...as the cover would hint at, but it’s still a collection I 100% recommend.

Feel it Out by Jordan Sondler (Complete) While certainly not a replacement for therapy, it’s great to have a lot of general advice and support in a concise, beautifully illustrated format! Check out Sondler’s work and if it resonates, so will this book.

Doctor Strange and Doctor Doom: Triumph and Torment by Roger Stern, Mike Mignola, Kevin Nowlan, and more (Complete) Having only seen Doctor Doom in a few cartoons and the movies, this is still my best introduction to the character and gives a glimpse as to why he’s such a good villain. It actually works well at introducing both Doctors and has a great inciting incident as to why these two join forces. Really great reread and now I want more stories of both characters!

Silver Surfer Black by Donny Cates, Tradd Moore, and Dave Stewart (Complete) Rereading this cause I love how concise, fantastical, and psychedelic it all is! This and Cosmic Ghost Rider (who I’m just learning was also written by Cates) are two of my top reads of recent Marvel stuff so I plan on checking out his Guardians of the Galaxy and Dr. Strange offerings next!

……….AUDIO……….

Off Menu (Podcast) Love the concept (interviewing mostly comedians on their ideal meal) and the hosts are excellent.

The Chernobyl Podcast (Podcast) An excellent compliment to the series and I wish more series would dive into production like this; I love a good peek behind the curtain.

……….GAMING……….

Inside (Playdead) So atmospheric and spooky and probably the upper limit for me, as far as “scariness” in games is concerned. It does a great job of changing things up and each puzzle really feels like a set piece. No filler and I’m only now just mentioning how beautiful the game is. 100% recommend.

Hades (Supergiant Games) I wasn’t sure I’d like it (Roguelike games are not my jam) but this is proving to be a loooooot of fun! Though I have a deep love of Greek mythology so there’s probably some bias creeping in. Anyway I’m knee-deep in this and am more than happy to chat about it if you’re playing as well.

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Holiday special has wrapped up and now the group is stuck in a hive of giant insects! The longer recap is on Reddit and is chock full of hexcrawling details.

And that’s it! As always, let me know if you have anything to suggest and happy Sunday!

[missmungoe]

🥺👉🏾👈🏾 I know this is a super annoying question but how’s Andromeda Unbound coming along? I swear I’ve read the three chapters so many times I have them memorized shajdkdksskd

Oh no worries! I don’t mind people asking if it’s done like this? Asking how a chapter is coming along is not annoying - you’re acknowledging the process (and by extension, the work) rather than just expecting a finished product, which is honestly an underrated kindness, so thank you for that <3 (also sadshfdjgj memorized!!)

I’m actually working on Andromeda as we speak! It’s next on my list, and is about 40% done, so have a snippet, because the fact that you’ve reread this fic so many times was what got me excited about writing it again:

Sabo’s gaze followed the waiters passing with trays of appetisers. “Maybe eating something will help. Wait here, and I’ll see if I can track down a salmon puff.”

“No, wa―”

He was gone before she could muster a protest, to say she didn’t feel like she could keep anything down and that she really wasn’t too keen on the thought of cementing her legacy at the Reverie by projectile vomiting all over the World Government insignia painted across the shiny tiled floor.

She watched as the crowd swallowed him up. A group of nearby girls made a strategic advance in the direction he’d gone, armed with intent and a disturbing amount of taffeta, their giggles drifting back towards her, and Makino sighed, although spared a wry prayer to the fact that she wasn’t the one being stalked by marriage-horny nobles like a deer in open season.

She’d barely finished the thought when she sensed someone behind her, and thinking it was another waiter, turned around, only to start at the sight of a whole group of noblemen, having sidled out of the crowd so smoothly she hadn’t even noticed them before they were upon her.

She had a half-panicked thought that they’d all seen through her disguise, but then, “Your Grace,” purred the one at the front. He was Sabo’s age, had an underbite like an angler fish and a monocle that stole her attention so thoroughly, even with the direct address, it took Makino a full second to realise that he was talking to her.

And his aggressively wide smile left little doubt of why he’d approached her, which wasn’t to expose her as a fraud in front of the world’s nobility, but for a very different, although equally unwelcome reason.

Her reaction was delayed, and might have felt out of character if it hadn’t so perfectly encapsulated her feelings in that moment, as Makino thought, softly,

Fuck.