#I hated this when I first wrote it but now rereading months later like damn

[achilleid]

#FridayKissTag!!!

Shio turned to face her next enemy with a ragged scream, her blade a flicker of light in the darkness as the lumonium caught and splintered off what parts of its surface were not blackened with blood and gore.

It was not the thunk of flesh and the wet resistance of muscle that met her sword, but the solid, unmovable surface of another blade. Shio had not even the time to register the clang of metal as she drew her arm back and struck thrice more, the madness of battle, of survival, still thundering in the pulse of her temple.

Her breath nearly rushed from her lungs when at last her eyes registered who it was that met her blows– who parried them with the practiced ease of familiarity.

All at once the fight went from her arms. The sword clattered from her hand, her knees buckled and she would have hit the hard rock floor soundly were it not for his hands that relinquished their own steel to catch her.

“It’s you– it’s you…” Shio sobbed, hands curved into claws as she tore at Enoch’s shirt, at his arms, forcing herself up so she could look at his face. Warm, dark brown eyes met her own, wide and wild, the same exertion that panted through her own lungs heaving from his own.

“Are you hurt?”

His voice. His scent. His warmth. Things she had never thought she would miss now crashed against her so fiercely she cared nothing for her wounds. Nothing for her hurts. Only that he was here.

Shio shook her head, too overwhelmed to even try and form words. She slid her palm over his face, felt the coolness of his skin beneath her fingertips before seeking out the silky softness of his hair. Enoch was equally preoccupied, his own hands moving over her arms, her shoulders, eyes checking off each place she might be injured. She felt his sphere fall over her like a warm rain, cleansing the ache from her sore arms, the sting of cuts and at last finding the painful mass of bruises around her ribs.

“Oh Shio… three of your ribs are cracked,” Enoch said, his voice broke with a wince of sympathy, “And your shoulder…”

He had discovered the damage there no doubt from her resetting the joint.

“I will live,” Shio croaked and smiled crookedly up at him, hoping to make him laugh. Hoping to clear the storm clouds that thundered around him and darkened his eyes. Instead, he kissed her, brief but warm, on her lips.

He pulled back to speak against them, every word ticklish, “...Don’t ever do that again.”

“Fall into a chasm?”

“Leave me.”

In those two words was more than a simple request. Shio felt the weight of them, heavy and purposeful in the way he said them and the way he looked at her now with the face of a man whose heart had been hanging, halfway between whole and broken… waiting to know if she had lived or died.

“I will never leave you,” Shio whispered fiercely, watched as her words lit a flame behind Enoch’s eyes.

She kissed him. Bit him. Marked that promise into the soft yielding skin of his mouth. When she pulled back there was a demand there in her eyes. A question. Awakened from the daze her touch had left him in, Enoch at last seemed to understand what it was she wished to hear.

“...I believe you.”

[tiger-moran]

Also there's this post going round where someone who I already had blocked for reasons I don't remember though maybe it was that post that made me block them who knows anyway it's them basically mocking people for not reading loads of books per year and saying essentially anyone who doesn't read many books per year, their opinions on everything are uninformed and worthless, and it pisses me off no end.

I mean not only is it condescending as hell

and absurd to make it sound as if reading books is the only possible way to get information and a broader viewpoint on things

it's also basically ableist as fuck too to expect everyone to be able to read countless books

and it's ignoring the fact that many people can't afford to read countless books (and sorry but 'free ebooks and libraries exist' does not solve that problem, there are loads of reasons why both those options are useless for many people, especially many disabled and poor people)

And I am just... I am sick of wasting my time and money getting and reading books that I turn out to hate. Like even only within the past two or three years, just off the top of my head there's been Caroline Akrill's fourth book in the eventing 'trilogy', a series I loved as a child and still liked when I reread it as an adult but I hated the fourth book, it was like she'd forgotten anything and everything which made the original series engaging (possibly not surprising when she wrote it like 30 years later (and it really really showed, despite it being supposedly set right after the original series) and I really genuinely wish she hadn't bothered); Lights of Prague which was so, so boring; some Sherlock Holmes anthology, I don't know which it was since I sold it months ago, which I didn't give a damn about no not even the story involving Moriarty and Moran because it was the standard 'they are awful people and we have to defeat them' shit and despite how other people made it sound they were barely in it anyway while it was mostly about Mycroft, a character I really don't care about; Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell or whatever it's called which had the distinction of being the first book I ever managed to fall asleep while sitting up in the middle of the day reading it because I found it so tedious; the Frey and McGray series which I stuck with despite not liking a lot of elements but I did at least like the main characters (or at least I liked them when they weren't drugged and being horrible to each other) but I enjoyed the last book in the series so little I've now put the entire series in my 'to sell' box; The Magpie Lord which was just awful anyway and contained a relationship dynamic I really dislike as well. There were probably others I've repressed all memory of. Even some other stuff I liked, it kind of... degenerated for me the further it went. Like for example I did quite like most of Caroline Graham's Inspector Barnaby series but I really didn't like the last one, I didn't like a lot of it anyway and then by the end it went way too weird as well.

I am genuinely at the stage now where I just... don't dare risk buying (and therefore reading) any more books because this keeps happening, so many of the ones I do risk buying I do not like at all, but I am sick of there being nothing I want to read, of every single list of 'recommended books' being lists of stuff I haven't got the slightest interest in reading not least because so, so much now seems to be 'young adult' stuff. I do not want to read about children! I do not want to read about teenagers! And I certainly do not want to read about teenagers and their romantic relationships (or usually, it seems, ~love triangle~ shit)! (What happened to books about adults? Because going by most of the lists I've seen unless you want ~classic literature~ books about adults over the age of about 20 barely exist any more)

I'm sick of it being impossible to find anything else I want to read because nobody is writing it or publishing it, stories with the type of characters and relationships and other things I have an interest in... they do not exist. I have searched time and time again and I am not finding anything.

And if I ask anywhere for recommendations mostly all I seem to get is people recommending me stuff that bears no resemblance to what I'm actually asking for (post-WWII is not Victorian!) and where people seem to assume a book simply being ~diverse~ in some way somehow automatically makes it an amazing flawless book that I'm going to absolutely love every moment of reading, also very often all they recommend are ebooks I can't read anyway and/or books that cost like £15 each which I can't afford.

And then those shits start ridiculing and demeaning people who don't read many books.

[troquantary]

Twilight Reread, Part One: Guys, It’s Literally Just Chapter One, I’m Fucked

I’ve officially started, as in it’s been a single chapter and I already have too many thoughts. I’m not going to do this kind of detailed mind dump for every chapter, but the early ones obviously establish a lot of things about Bella, and reevaluating her character is the whole point of this exercise for me. Chapter One in particular is a fucking gold mine, so this is a good place to pause and take stock.

Actually, it turned out to be such a gold mine that I’m splitting this up -- in this post, I wrote about Bella and Charlie’s relationship and discuss the defensive attitude Bella has about him and Forks at the start. I’m going to save my thoughts on Bella’s bizarre, almost pathological pessimism and her disinterest in human connection in a separate one. (All I’ll say now is that, by the end of this chapter, I was deeply confused as to what Bella expected/wanted from her peers, because her behavior and narration were all over the damn place.)

...I need to start giving myself a word limit. Too much mental energy expended below the cut~

1. Bella and Charlie (and Forks)

Okay, first of all, goddamn. I seriously misremembered how hard Bella comes down on Forks and, by extension, Charlie. As someone with, uh, very bitterly divorced parents, I’ve got to say her attitude has Renee’s fingerprints all over it; Renee hated Forks, and she’s clearly instilled the same distaste for the place -- and for her father, who remains there -- in Bella. I’m not necessarily saying that Renee did this maliciously, but it paints a sadly familiar picture of one divorced parent poisoning their child against the other.

Just look at Bella’s description of her parents’ divorce, which is incredibly biased in Renee’s favor. Out-of-universe, Meyer’s provided some context for the split. Taking it at face value, it looks like a shitty situation all around, but Charlie doesn’t appear to have done anything wrong. Bella, however, describes it like this: “It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen.”

She says this like Forks is a prison and Charlie was Renee’s jailer or something, rather than a young man struggling to maintain his marriage to his increasingly unhappy wife, provide for her and his daughter, and take care of his dying parents. Now, to be fair, Bella’s directing her vitriol toward the town in this section, not Charlie directly. Reading between the lines, though, it seems fairly clear that the two are linked in Bella’s mind -- she never mentions being glad to visit Charlie, and in fact when she “put her foot down” about the arrangement at age fourteen, the result was cutting that already scant time in half. She’s seen her dad for a total of six weeks over the last three years, and she mentions no desire to know him better or grow closer.

Obviously, Bella does warm up to Charlie later, but her expectations going in are extremely low. And yeah, I’m blaming this on Renee, too. Bella has always felt like a burden on her mother; Renee can’t even offer to be there for Bella if she needs to come home without a sense of “sacrifice.” Bella’s pretty clearly expecting Charlie to see her the same way, and therefore her attitude, while not charitable, seems to be mostly self-protective; she’s bracing herself for rejection. She’s actually surprised that her own father has “really been fairly nice” and “seem[s] genuinely pleased” that she’s coming to live with him permanently. Which...woof.

For his part, Charlie’s behavior in this chapter really indicates that he wants to connect with Bella, and for her to enjoy her time with him. It’s honestly kind of heartbreaking. For all that Bella essentially sees him as a stranger, he’s more familiar with her -- he catches her “automatically” when she trips, hugs her, and calls her “Bells.” I think if Charlie were truly as disconnected from Bella as Bella sees him, this scene would go differently (Bella trips, but Charlie’s surprised by it and doesn’t catch her, and has to help her up out of a puddle. Or he calls her “Izzy” or some nickname she hates.) As it is, although Bella doesn’t see it, we have ample hints that they’re going to click.

That’s not to say they’re in sync immediately, though -- Bella chafes when she thinks Charlie’s talking down to her in the car.

2. Shut Up, You’re Not My Real Dad! (unironically kind of a banger?)

The conversation about the truck quickly becomes a kind of power struggle. Bella’s dynamic with Renee, the reversed parent/child roles, is well established by this point in her life (which, as a side note, made it surprising to me that Bella refers to Renee as “my mom” or “my mother” throughout this first chapter even in her narration -- I expected the first-name treatment for both parents).

Renee’s all too happy to let Bella manage everything and be the adult. Charlie, though, sees Bella as his kid and knows she wants her own car, so he’s found and bought one for her. His intentions are great, and very generous -- but Bella, who’s already planned to buy the car herself, feels patronized and bristles. She’s immediately “suspicious” and starts grilling him about the make and age of the truck, and she’s offended when he tries to sidestep her questions: “I hoped he didn’t think so little of me as to believe I’d give up that easily.”

I don’t think it’s wrong or ungrateful of her to feel and react this way -- this is just a pretty natural point of disconnect between her and Charlie, and it makes a lot of sense for Bella as a character. She’s used to being in control of household and financial matters, and from her perspective, it looks like Charlie’s butting in with no consideration for her knowledge, budget, or requirements. Of course she’s resistant.

She softens, though, when Charlie reveals he’s bought it for her -- surprised out of her defensiveness, she now has to grapple with the unfamiliar feeling of being provided for, and welcomed, when she was expecting to fend for herself as usual. And then it turns out she loves the truck, so this ends up being a big win for Charlie -- although not so big that Bella drops her emotional guard.

Beyond the first chapter, Bella continues to try to establish her “adulthood” by instantly claiming the household as her domain. On her second day in town, she takes stock of Charlie’s fridge and pantry, then helps herself to the petty cash and hits the grocery store. There’s no indication that she’s discussed this with Charlie -- she’s just decided that food is her job now like it was in Phoenix. [Edit: I was wrong about this -- she does talk to Charlie and ask to take over food-related stuff in Chapter 2. My bad, sorry Bella.] She takes over cooking, too, although Charlie hasn’t asked and doesn’t appear to expect her to do that. I’ve seen some posts criticizing Charlie for not cooking himself or whatever, but I’d argue that this is something Bella would insist on doing -- she’d probably also be offended that he doubts her capability, because this is an area where she feels very confident. She’d point out that she’s not some kid with no idea how to run the washing machine, and that she handled all this and more at Renee’s just fine, thank you.

I figure that Charlie, in the same manner that he didn’t stop Renee from leaving, doesn’t stop Bella from any of this because he wants her to be happy. Sure, it’s kind of weird for a teenager to want to do chores, but if it makes Bella feel more comfortable, or more like this is her home...of course he’s not going to interfere. Maybe this is too passive on his part, but they’re still figuring each other out.

I think this continuing point of tension -- Charlie trying to be a parent to Bella, and Bella resisting it because it feels belittling to be shoved back into the “child” box after she’s already shouldered so much responsibility for Renee -- will be very important to understanding some of Bella’s actions later on. Considering the level of dislike I had for Bella before going into this, I’ve got to harp on these points for my own sake, to keep myself honest and less reactive.

---

And that’s it for this installment. I have no planned structure for this, by the way (shocker), so I’ll probably just write about whatever catches my attention with respect to Bella’s character. I’m just trying to look at what’s actually on the page and incorporate out-of-universe information as sparingly as possible. Since the series is written from a first-person perspective and these are supposed to be Bella’s actual thoughts, I’m going to be picking apart her choice of words quite a bit -- just based on the first chapter alone, those choices are often very telling.

[chili-aux]

Im honestly so done with aot fandom wars really. I now let people spew whatever shit they want. It gets toxic in the end. I started hating so many characters because of this irritating fandom till I realized that a bunch of teenagers dont have the right to steal my love for this story away from me. Theyre so ridiculous really it looks like a bunch of kids decided to watch AOT and miss the point entirely. Yams wrote a beautiful story that gets more interesting when you reread it. I wasnt even aware of shipping wars till I finished the manga only to realize its hellfire here. I just assumed oh Erwin loved Marry but chose the corps how sad. Shadis had a thing for Carla. Bittersweet. Oh Ymir and Historia loved each other. Tragic. Reiner is a historia simp great. Oh Levi and Hanji are closeted lovers who just cant accept they're into each other. And thats it. But I went online just to see wow manga discussions yaaay and I ran into middle school children shipping Levi with Eren/Mikasa I mean are you ok? Are you not unhinged? Do you need therapy? Seriously guys wtf? Levi/Erwin? WTF? They're literally brothers wtf? Hange/Moblit, WTF? Are you even aware of the concept of friendship and loyalty that runs in the army? Do you think everyone in the army is in love with each other wtf is this logic Im sorry Im so done with this fandom. AOT deserved better fans who'd appreciate the story and its depth. Apart from a few plotholes that made no sense. (Especially hanji's useless fking death, dude she could've lived ok its so unfair. Anyways) I also can't stand it when people start making Yuri and Yaoi ships of two clearly straight characters. I don't mind if you ship characters within a show that have some sort of legitimacy FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. But literally changing everything about characters just so they can fit your idea of a stupid ship is pathetic. A character is so much more than someone you ship with someone. Grow tf really.

hi anon, thank you for sharing! i am tired too. i honestly cannot wait for the time i will get over this anime, but if that time comes, i will still ship levihan and probably continue making fanfics about them. at this moment though, I still hyper-fixate on this ship.

I agreed with some of your points, like that with a bunch of kiddos ruining our experience cuz damn, I've seen it a lot after I joined the fandom but I just stayed on my place and blocked a lot of them for peace of mind. And really, at first, I don't have any ship in aot not until i rewatched it for the 2nd time, that's when I have noticed levihan's bond then boom, I'm riding this ship forever. But when I dove through aottwt, I discovered that eren-levi and those ships that involved a veteran and a 104th member exist, damn I just wanna cringe so hard (or i did cringe hard) cuz why? that's fukcing illegal, my brain can't even comprehend why some people ship those characters who obviously treat each other in canon in a parental-child way.

and hange's death? so true! it's just useless when falco will have the ability to turn into a titan and fly by the later chapters -_- they're just one day away from the end of the rumbling but... fck I'm sad again.

however, i do not agree with some of your points.

disclaimer: I'm not mad anon!

eruri and mobuhan aren't illegal. people can ship them cuz of the exact reason that you said - the concept of friendship and loyalty that runs in the army. i admit I cannot see levi/erwin and hange/moblit in a romantic relationship too like how you perceived it, they're just more like superior-subordinate for me that I can't affiliate their relationship to bud in something that will surpass that. but the loyalty and friendship between those characters, i think, are enough for other people to ship them. why? because there aren't any spoken rules in shipping so we don't have the right to dictate what they ship (proshippers aren't included. stop.)

and babe, what's wrong with yuri and yaoi ships?? aot characters' genders aren't mentioned in the source material (though i see hange as nonbinary cuz of the searches that i made before when i kept on seeing gender wars that always involved hange.)

the case is, there's this term called 'projecting'. people are often doing this in the fictional characters that they love - projecting their identity or what they headcanon about this certain character that, whether we like it or not, often diverge away from the source material. i believed that there's no harm in doing so. they see erwin as gay? let them. they see nanaba as nonbinary? let them. they see levi as pansexual? let them. they ship mikasasha? let them. they ship ererei(erenxreiner)? let them.

it's pride month babe. and even if it's not pride month, people can ship yaoi and yuri. people can project their identities that they cannot express in real life to their favorite characters. and you can't stop them from doing so no matter what. that is their decision and we don't have a say on that. it's not pathetic nor dumb.

but yes, do not reduce any character to ship material. that's downright stupid. and as anon said, grow the fuck up.

thank you for sharing still. and as I've said, I'm not mad! i just want to clear some things that i don't share the same sentiment with you.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Last Goodbye (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The second goodbye of two friends doesn’t hurt any less. The first goodbye of two lovers does hurt even more. The issue is he doesn’t want to leave, and she doesn’t want him to leave either. But will they admit it to each other? Or will they pretend that it’s okay and that he must to follow his dreams even though it hurts them both as hell.

Words: 2944

Rating: PG

Warning: a lot of heartache / memory of death / loss

Authors notes: Dear anon, thank you so much for the request. I really hope you will enjoy this. I’m not particularly happy how I wrote Tatum’s POV, but I just couldn’t think of anything else even after multiple times rereading this. Sorry if this is not what you expected.

A/N 2: Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve, I really want to improve my writing and make it even better. Also sorry for all the mistakes in my writing I hope at least it readable (couldn’t ask my husband to proofread)

Tatum stood outside Claire’s door listening to the person on another side of the phone call he just received. His heart thumped rapidly, while the words finally sank in, echoing in his head with persistent consistency. He never thought that these words, the words he wanted to hear for months now will become a burden and he will need to deal with the consequences of his earlier rush decision. The one he made even before he saw Claire... before his old, buried feelings resurfaced with a new-founded strength... before their first kiss and the last... and before he knew that she is in danger not only from some paparazzi, but in actual danger and all he could think of now was that he needed to protect her at all cost. Not to run to another part of the planet like a coward far away from her, but to stay by her side like a man.

Distantly, he could still hear Winston speaking. Heard him vaguely, describing the opportunity he will get with the transfer, but all he could think was Claire and the taste of her lips. The unforgettable taste of the peach lemonade on a summer's day. And all he could wish for was to stay only to keep her safe.

“...Are you taking me off Claire’s security detail?” Tatum finally managed to squeeze through the overexcited chattering of Winston. “No, sir. That’s... I mean...,” tried to say Tatum, but Winston interrupted him every time when he tried to say more than a couple of words. God... thought Tatum closing his eyes in irritation. This guy speaks even faster than Claire, and I thought she is a chatty one. The small momentary smile appeared on his face before quickly disappearing, when he thought of the girl he didn't want to say goodbye to... The memory of their last goodbye flashes in front of his eyes, drowning out the chatter for a while.

He steps closer to her. Her hands in his, his head bent down and he presses his lips just to the corner of her's, lingering there for a moment longer. And he knows that it’s goodbye. Wanting to be brave enough and kiss her fully. But knowing that if he would do that they both would pay the price and he wasn’t brave enough to risk her happiness. He used it all just to come here... he risked it all just to see her for the last time. So instead he hugs her firmly as if he knows that he will never come back..

The red lilies still in his hand waiting to be laid on his mother’s grave. The white roses placed on the grave of Claire’s dad. And his hands wrapped tightly around her waist, watching at two graves next to them. Two lives that were lost and he has no illusions that this will be any different. Her face is buried in the crook of his neck, feeling how she crumbled in his arms, and her body shook with tears. Wishing to be brave enough to stay. Wishing to keep the promise, he never made.

“That’s great. Thank you,” said Tatum absentmindedly pulled back from the memory, knowing that there is no point to argue. Hoping that Claire will be able to change their mind, if she will want him to stay... that’s it... thought Tatum, if she would want him to stay. 

He sighed, pressing his forehead to the wooden door before softly tapping at it and entering her bedroom with a heavy heart, feeling as if it would break in half from a single sight of Claire. So instead he lowers his gaze at the floor, not able to meet hers, knowing that she would see straight through his stoic facade in a matter of seconds.

“Come to say goodbye?” said Claire, and he could hear the hurt and pain in her voice, that she desperately tried to hide, but it was so evident in her eyes that he couldn’t miss it, when he looked up.

“How did you...?” asked Tatum, the shock clearly written on his face, while his heart skipped a beat.

“If you don't want me to hear your private phone calls, don’t take them right outside,” Claire said, averting his piercing gaze.

“It wasn’t private. I had no idea Winston was planning a reassignment for me,” confessed Tatum. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t a truth, at least not the whole one. He should have told her before, should have confessed how desperately, the first two weeks, he wanted to go back. He hated it here at first, but then... but then that damn almost a kiss, the slightest press of her lips to the corner of his, after he walked her back to the State Dinner at Dionne’s Estate, and he knew that he was a goner. And he also knew that the look of pain, and loss, and fear would have broken him. The fear he saw before, five years ago. The fear of losing him as she did her father... the same as he did his mom.

“Do you think someone found out about us?” The question breaks through his thoughts making him snap to reality.

“As far as I’m aware, no one knows,” said he, musing if that is why they were sending him away, but quickly shaking this thought off. She doesn’t know about the reassignment request, reminds he himself. And he knows despite everything that he deserved the promotion. The issue is... he doesn’t want it anymore. The silence hangs between them, after he finally speaks, confessing that he requested it a month ago, and it hurt as hell, when he looked into her eyes, the moment after confession.

“Are you that unhappy as my head of security?” asked Claire, the hurt in her eyes deepens even more, making them look like pools of dark chocolate with shots of aged intoxicating whiskey.

“I’m not unhappy, Claire. I filed that request back when I was first assigned here, back when all I could think about was returning to the military career I’d worked so hard for.” sighed Tatum, wondering when was the exact moment when his dreams have changed, when the young boy finally grew up leaving behind his dream. Wondering when he realised that this is exactly the place where he wants to be. His eyes meeting Claire’s looking how realisation downs on her and her eyes softens, becoming a tiny shade lighter than they were before, but her words aren’t what he expected to hear and they are a complete opposite from what he wanted to say.

“And this is your chance to do that. To follow in your mom’s footsteps...,” she murmured stepping closer to him. Her eyes locked with his, mesmerising him, captivating, and he wants to scream... to tell her that this is not what he wants... not what he wishes for. At least not anymore... not after he walked into her life again. Not after she stormed into his, attacking him with the damn crown, making him pin her to the ground losing himself into her deep chocolate eyes. But he cannot say a word. His head bends slightly giving her a nod, as if admitting the lie she just said. Not a lie... but the truth, that just stopped to be it, unbeknown to her.

And instead of refuting her words, he just confirms what she feared. “They’re offering me a promotion. A big one. I didn’t expect it.”

“I guess people just don’t say ‘no’ to that sorta thing, huh?” she said. Her voice slightly cracked, but she smiled anyway even though he could catch the glimpses of glistening tears welling at the corners of her eyes, while she looked to the ground. Making him feel all the pain and all the loss she felt.

“Just a month ago this news would’ve meant everything to me. But now...”

“Now?” asked Claire. Her eyes met his, and he could swear that he could hear how her breath hitched from the intensity of his gaze and from the hope he wasn’t ready to give her.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” after a moment of silence admitted Tatum, knowing that here was no way he could hide it from her.

He could feel how his heart ached looking at Claire across the room, too far away and not too far enough to miss how her body stiffened. Knowing that she wanted to cross the room and to kiss him hard... fiercely. The same way he wanted to kiss her.

His gaze dropping to her mouth, noting how her teeth dig into her bottom lip, not missing the slightest shake in its curve, but in the midst of this, missing the most important message her eyes send him... that just like him not wanting to leave her, she didn’t want him to leave either. Both restraining themselves from saying what they really wanted.

“You should go. I want you to go,” whispered Claire in a barely audible whisper, and he could swear that he felt how his heart broke and the sound of shattering pieces deafened him with pain. She wants him to go, he thought. His fists clenching, and despite how badly it hurted he still forced himself to smile softly and to ask her the next question, as no matter what, he still cares for her deeply.

“What about you?”

“The rest of the security team will keep me safe,” she shrugged, stepping a bit closer, slowly closing the distance between them.

“CoCo...,” he muttered, also taking a step in her direction, their gazes locked, not able to look away, while he continued to speak. “I hate the thought of letting you down,” he tries again, hoping that she will ask him to stay, that she wants him to stay. Hurting so much, that he misses another glimpse of pain flashing in her eyes covered by determination just a split second later.

“You’ll only let me down if you abandon your dream career for me,” said Claire, taking another step closer.

“So... you’re saying I should go?” whispered he, another step closer to her.

“Yes. You should be keeping thousands of people safe, not just one... me,” whispered Claire. Her eyes stinging with tears, but she blinked them away. Her gaze holds his, while he finally takes a deep breath and nods, as if admitting defeat.

“Then this really is goodbye,” said Tatum, taking the last step closer to her. His heart thumping loudly, and his fingertips brushing against hers.

“Right now?” blurted Claire, and he could feel how her hands started to shake against his, just slightly, but enough for him to feel it.

“The reassignment is effective immediately. Winston’s already sent someone to cover my shift,” admitted Tatum, the pain aching in him. And he would want to look away, but he cannot force himself to do that. His eyes locked with hers, feeling enchanted by her, mesmerised. Feeling that he cannot resist her anymore... needing to kiss her for the last time.

Their hearts heavy, taking that last tiny step toward each other. Trying not to imagine anyone else standing guard outside Claire’s door... not wanting to imagine anyone else.

Feeling how his breath hitches, when Claire put her hands on his shoulder, drawing him into a kiss. He doesn’t resist, his arms circling her tightly as if holding for the dear life, not wanting to let her go.

And he kisses her softly despite the firmness of his grip. His lips flutter against Claire’s, and he pauses, raising a hand to stroke her cheek, the three little words ready to leave his lips, but he pushes them back, knowing that they would hurt them both even more.

“Just... don’t forget me,” said Claire. Her voice came rough and raw... and desperate. And he fears that she will ask him something else he cannot give her or promise, but she doesn't.

“Never did, never will,” whispered Tatum against her lips. His voice like a gentle caresses to her shredded soul... like a soft whisper of meadows on a windy day. His way to say I love you, when the words are failing him.

And he kisses her with all the passion of a man who knows he’ll never see her again. His tongue sliding against hers, trying to memorise every single thing about her. Her taste, her scent, her touch. Kissing her fierce and sloppy, hard and rough. The way it would hurt and bruise her soft lips. The way it will make her remember him and never forget. The selfish kiss of a man who dies. The last kiss of the man who lives. And he could feel the taste of salt blossoming across their tongues, the mix of his and hers. Not able to tell for certain which of them shed the first tear.

Claire’s arms wrap around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, while he squeezes her lower back desperately, pressing her body as close as possible.

Finally, he pulls away, trailing his hands along her sides as he reluctantly releases her. Trying to memorise her every curve. To remember her every dip. His heart aching knowing that this is goodbye. Not knowing if he would ever come back or will he be brought in a metal casket with honours... but it isn’t a death he is afraid of... oh no... the fear that he has... the one that he desperately tried to push back from the moment he got off his phone call was the fear that something will happen with her and he wouldn’t be here to protect her. The same way as he wasn’t there during her first attack near the lake.

Finally Tatum takes a step back. His stoic expression belying the sadness Claire sees in his eyes. The sadness and fear, but in the midst of this she still misses the most important message in his eyes: he doesn’t want to leave her...

“Well... I guess I should be going. Paperwork to file and all that,” finally said Tatum with a sigh, reluctantly walking to the door, when he turns to her for the last time, watching how the last drop of tear falling from her eyelashes.

“Yeah. I’ll... see you around,” finally whispered Claire.

He opens his mouth to respond... wanting to tell her that it's unlikely, but he closes it before resolutely walking out of her room without another glance... knowing that if he will look back, he may never leave. His heart aching, and his pulse thumping loudly.

And he does not look back as the sight of her standing like that is achingly familiar and he knows that the single look at her will hurt as nothing else did. He saw her like that, all these five years ago. Him walking away, while she stood at his mother’s grave, looking at him with the teary smile, watching him to walk away from her life as he was doing now. Hoping against the hope that he will be lucky again. Her hands wrapped around her waist, wishing it didn't hurt so much this time. But it did hurt the hell even more.

The next day, it didn’t hurt any less. His every movement was followed by the memory of her tears and the pain he saw in her eyes the second before turning to leave her bedroom. So opposite of the picture of her hidden in the depth of his duffel bag, the one that will accompany him wherever he will be sent. The chocolate eyes with the wrinkles of laugh around them and the teasing smile forever captured on the white paper, so opposite from tears and pain in her eyes that will be ached in his memory.

He numbly took his duffel bag checking his carefully hidden treasure before walking to meet with his commanding officer in Dean’s office. His thoughts solely on Claire, while he listened to his orders. The tears in her eyes and the shake in her fingers. The way she looked at him. And the way she kissed him, while he kissed her in return. The soft caresses of their lips before turning into inferno.

He hoped, while on his way to Vancross's private airport, that when the reality will settle down it will hurt a little bit less and that he will be okay... that she will be okay. But it still hurt the same. And he knew that no matter how long time will pass it still will hurt the same, no less… probably even more.

His heart thumping loudly, singing a sad melody, while the image of her following his every move throughout the airport. Her eyes, the colour of the warm coffee and childhood memories. Her soft lips, that always taste like a peach lemonade on a hot summer day. Her smile, the one that warms him every time, whenever it reaches her eyes. And her voice, the telltale melody of her emotions storming inside of her. The one way of telling how she really feels. And the one that he can hear even now calling for him, with the notes of panic and hope colouring it.

His steps falter just slightly, while he walks to the gate, reliving the events of the past month. Their first meeting and their goodbye... their first kiss and their last... their scandal and their escape. And the way she didn’t wanted him to get hurt, same way as he would do anything to keep her safe.

He shakes his head, when he hears her again calling for him in desperation, piercing through his fogged mind, reaching out for him. And he is almost sure that he hears things, until he hears his name called for a third time.

“Tatum wait!” He hears, and he stops dead, slowly turning to face Claire.

Tagging: @choices-bound​​​​ @jamespotterthefirst​​​​ @mercury84choices​​​​ @k2624​​​​ @thefrenchiemama​ @choicesreal​​​​ @starrystarrytrouble​​​​ @boneandfur​​​​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​​​​ @sophxwithers​​​​ @ramseysrookiex​ @suitfer

[soldouthaz]

hey all!  it’s nearly the end of the year now and it’s time to finish the list of my favorite 2020 fics! (you can find part i of this rec here !) I can’t thank these authors and anyone else who published things this year enough. it’s been many long months where a distraction was much needed, and we got such amazing content for FREE. being able to escape into another world for even just a few minutes right now is priceless. 

to everyone who wrote something, read something, or simply made it through this year, kudos to you! wishing everyone a much more relaxing 2021 with even more amazing fics to come. :)  thank you guys for everything – happy holidays & new year, and happy reading!  

there were so many good ones out this year and there’s no way I can include all of them, but I enjoyed so many more than just the ones on this list! the ones I picked just stood out to me for some reason based on how I was feeling or what I was going through at the time, and they all helped me in some way or another. :) not to mention, I am sooo behind on recent fics and most of the blff, so I will be making more recs slowly into the new year as well!  

quick disclaimer! as with every time I put these together, this list is based on my own opinions and features a variety of different kinds of fics and tropes. I include the info next to them for a reason! please stick to your own preferences and leave any hate out of your choices. that being said, if you enjoy any of these, please leave the author a kudos, comment, or send them a message to let them know you liked it!  

okay, in no particular order!:  

a place with skeletons by @crazyupsetter / whoknows 
 E | 50k | b!L | veela!Louis 

“I would choose anyone other than you,” Louis says, picking up his train of thought again. He feels a lot more cornered and defensive when they’re in Harry’s house, for some reason. 

It doesn’t really make sense, considering that this time, Louis was the one who couldn’t hack it any longer. He broke first. There’s something about being in Harry’s space, though, the green and earthy feeling of it. It should feel like open space with all the plants, but Louis has never felt more claustrophobic than he does when he’s here. Harry’s chest moves against his back, a sharp intake of air. 

Before he can open his mouth to defend himself, Louis keeps going, “If I had a choice in any of this, I would have been saved by that elderly security guard over you. I wouldn’t mind having to have the occasional cuddle with her.” 

even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight
 E | 25k | b!L | uni au  

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job. 

runaway darling by @solvetheminourdreams 
E | 26k | no smut | wedding au  

An AU where Louis hates weddings, Harry loves them, and together they help a bride skip hers. 

three days in february by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice 
 E | 187k | b!L | magical realism  

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind. 

a springtime’s wilt, an autumn’s bloom by snowcaplou  E | 20k | b!L | abo 

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight 
 E | 57k | b!L | witch!Louis 

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles. 

terror of surrender by @loubellies 
E | 31k | b!L | yoga instructor!H  

Louis is a recent divorcee with a new favorite yoga teacher, Harry. 

loving you’s a bloodsport by @rosesau
 M | 106k | no graphic smut | royalty au  

harry is a bratty prince, louis is a guard who works in his palace, and niall is the only one who’s got his life in control. 

spoonful of sugar by @zanniscaramouche (check out this part too!)  
E | 43k | b!L | mob boss!Harry  

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles. 

quiet people have the loudest minds by @2tiedships2
 M | 38k | referenced b!L | abo 

The one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry. 

works like a charm by @falsegoodnight 
E | 18k | b!L | Hogwarts au  

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. 

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.  

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. 

Three: They do not get along.  

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git. 

show you the stars in the daylight by @yvesaintlourent / bruisedhoney 
E | 13k | b!L | friends to lovers  

The one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it’s definitely not his best friend’s little brother Harry…ten years later, he changes his mind. 

in a sea of mist by @tomlinvelvetfics 
E | 126k | b!L | mythology au  

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs. 

confessions of a fabricated alpha by @jaerie 
E | 18k | b!H/b!L mention | abo  

famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself. 

take my whole life too by @goodmorninglou
  E | 24k | b!L | d/s elements | WIP

Louis knows three things, at the base of it all. 

He likes when Harry hurts him. He doesn’t know why, not really, but he knows that he likes it. Likes giving up control, likes feeling small and taken care of, likes being praised for taking whatever Harry gives him for as long as he gives it. He and Harry are meant to be. No matter what time they finally fall together, what day, what age, what place, the moment that they do, that’ll be it. It’s going to be them against everyone else, hand in hand for the rest of their lives. That’s been a given since they met. The half of Louis’ soul that’s missing is Harry’s. 

And, sans those two things, he doesn’t really know much of anything at all. 

sweet like honey by @falsegoodnight  
E | 33k | b!L | amateur porn au  

Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal. 

a few rereads posted from before this year that I enjoyed again!  

the case of the (definitely not haunted) styles mansion by briamaria  
E | 40k | b!H | nancy drew au  

the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted. 

canyon moon by @eeveelou  
E | 40k | b!L | abo  

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.  Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.  

An A/B/O Lion King AU 

lemon eyes by @turnyourankle  
E | 50k | b!H | abo  

It’s not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn’t give a damn what’s proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he’s concerned, the right alpha won’t care, and he’ll have some fun on the way.  And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus? 

all this delusion in our heads by snowcaplou 
 E | 15k | b!L | exes to lovers  

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can’t take it anymore? 

the way the storms blow by @rbbsbb  
E | 21k | b!L | roommates au  

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick. 

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. 

Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.  Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.  

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea. 

and a few more recs from some other fandoms for anyone who might be interested! (feel free to rec me some more if you know of any!)  

burning the ground by lq_traintracks (drarry)  
E | 10k | b!draco | abo 

“Strap him down,” someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him – the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists … He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman’s voice sigh, “Someone, get Healer Malfoy.” 

every step you take by nokomis (sterek) 
 E | 50k | light b!Stiles | abo  

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super. 

+

alright, I think that’s it for this rec! as always, please let me know if i’ve tagged anything incorrectly or if you’d like to be untagged from something!  

and like I said before, I am wayyy behind on reading for these last few months and I need to catch up. when I do, I’ll definitely make some more recs into the new year! 

I just want to say another thank you to anyone who wrote or read or created or just existed this year. it’s been hard on us all but having this outlet definitely made it easier. I can’t wait to see what else is published next year! happy reading everyone, and happy new year! :)

[veliseraptor]

2020 Fanfiction Round-Up

I do one of these every year! And have since I think 2016. Can’t break a tradition even if it’s been a clusterfuck of a time and filling this out was in some ways an exercise in remembering the ways I have failed myself as a writer this year. 

But oh well!

Total Year-Long Wordcount: I’ll post the final final number tonight after I finish the writing I want to do this afternoon (and plan to do this afternoon), but it’s currently 451,803 words written this year. Guessing I’m going to land somewhere around 453,000ish. (AO3 claims a higher number than that but that’s because it is counting the entirety of fics where I posted chapters this year.

This year I wrote and posted: I wrote a fair number more than I posted (there are five fics finished but for various reasons unposted on my hard drive) but based on Tumblr I posted 78 posts in my fic tag, which, not including chapter specific updates and three sentence meme answers (but including at least two Tumblr-only longer fics), probably comes out to about 60 or so “full length” fics that saw the light of day in 2020.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? 

Well, I wrote more than I did last year, which is sort of a surprise to me (all things considered) but also maybe not, because I was doing a lot less of most other things that could’ve been occupying my time, including two hours daily of commuting. 

But still less than I did in 2018. Which is fine.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? 

Lord, I don’t know. It depends on when you ask me. Lately I’ve been in a bit of a “I hate everything I’ve written ever” state of mind, so that makes it sort of hard to do any kind of...reasonable assessment. 

I know I’m proud of With Absolute Splendor but I have all these reservations about it and I can’t reread it for the most part because I always notice new things I wish I’d done differently. I feel pretty good about efforts in a common cause but something about it still makes me cringe, which I suspect has to do with my general self-consciousness. I have a hard time feeling unreservedly proud about...anything I wrote this year, really. 

I feel like the closest I get is maybe nor autumn falter which I am pretty pleased with and also which does hurt me a lot personally. Or I did end up overall pretty pleased with what came out of By Proxy.

But also the more I look at this question the more I start hating all my own work, so...guess this is kind of coming at a bad time.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I mean, I started writing in my first non-English fandom in many years, and specifically one where I was trying to engage more with the cultural background of the setting (in a way I wasn’t with, say, Death Note, when I was writing Death Note fic). So that was a risk. And I learned that it’s very stressful and there’s so many ways to make mistakes and I am, in many ways, a coward. But also I think I’ve learned a fair amount thanks to a lot of very patient people on the internet, so...there’s that.

Otherwise...I mean, I got ambitious with a few projects this year (the Big Bang fic and With Absolute Splendor stand out), but I’m not sure how much I really tried new things. 

I feel like I had to fight myself a little on writing straight up bad sex for By Proxy - I planned on it being hot, and it really wasn’t. It was mostly just miserable. Which made for a better fic, but was a new experience for me as far as ‘I thought I was going to write porn and that isn’t what I wrote.’

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year: 

By far, With Absolute Splendor. In fact, it has now become my second most kudosed fic of all time, behind only fuckin Life in Reverse. So like. That’s a thing.

(It is still less than half as many as Life in Reverse, but for context Life in Reverse has been around for going on eight years.)

Most fun story to write: 

Most fics where I feel like “I’m having so much fun writing this!” also go through a “oh god I hate this it’s terrible” phase which makes this sort of hard to assess. But I did have overall a lot of fun writing Mutual Friends despite all my frustration with the canon-wrangling I had to do to make it work in my head. 

But also I feel like both Retributive Justice and Embedded were in different ways deeply iddy fics that were just fun to write. That actually goes for a lot of the Whumptober fics. That was a very self-indulgent month. Excited to do it again in February (hopefully, if I can write things in a timely manner at all).

Story with the single sexiest moment: 

I feel like the beauty of your repair might be my personal favorite smut I posted this year, but I think my personal favorite that I wrote is in the big bang fic nobody will see until January. 

I feel like most of the sexiest moments I’ve written this year are in the porn fics I’m going to start posting in January also. But just generally I feel like the beauty of your repair is the sexiest thing I wrote and posted.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: 

I mean, I Come With Knives is definitely up there. It’s not that wrong or anything, but it got pretty intense in some ways I wasn’t expecting. Mostly in how much blood got involved, which was actually more than I’d had it involved in a sex thing before! Kind of surprises me that I haven’t previously done more with bloodplay stuff but. Well. First time for everything!

I don’t think this was a year that really had any “wow, what the fuck, Lise” things in it. Nothing on the level of last year’s winner. I’m almost disappointed in myself.

Abattoir was definitely the story that generated the weirdest conversation and creepiest search questions, though, so it does get points for that. 

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: 

I feel like the writing of everyone else is spring bound was a lot of...me thinking through my Jiang Cheng feelings and specifically my Jiang Cheng post-canon feelings. 

the martyr, the victim was pretty formative in shaping how I think about both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and their relationship with each other. It was the first fic I wrote that really dug into them in any way, I think, and definitely one that informed how I thought about writing Lan Xichen later.

Hardest story to write: 

I was thinking it was the one that I haven’t posted yet but I did technically finish, aka my Big Bang fic, the terrible threesome fic, the massive “I’m gonna keep everyone in the Yi City arc alive” AU that I started shortly after finishing The Untamed and finished in December. So I spent most of the year writing it.

But then I was like - no, I’m going to have to go with we live until we die even though it’s technically been ‘in progress’ for five years and really kicked into gear in 2019 and I just finished it and posted it this year, because that fic was like. The culmination of a big arc in an enormous verse dealing with a whole lot of balls in the air and trying to tie up a whole lot of threads. It was ambitious and the stakes were high and it was full of plot and action which are not two of my strengths...frankly I’m still amazed I pulled the damn thing off.

Biggest Disappointment: 

I think it is better if I refrain from going too in depth on this because it would just end up as me listing a bunch of my perceived failings. But I think off the top of my head I’m frustrated by the fact that I still haven’t really managed to write a XueXiao smut fic that quite hits the spot for me, myself. I’ve written two and for various reasons I don’t really like either of them. 

Biggest Surprise: 

The fact that my Jiang Cheng fic took off the way it did. Legitimately did not see that coming! At all! I mean, I’m delighted by it but it wasn’t what I saw happening as far as “niche I’d find in this fandom” or “thing I’d write that people would really enjoy reading.”

Particularly with By Proxy. That fic got a lot more attention than I would’ve expected. 

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: 

I feel like every fic I write with Xue Yang in it tells you something about me and most of those things are things that make me, on some level, deeply self-conscious, but I try not to think about that too much.  

I feel like the most telling story is maybe we all drift sometimes because I literally wrote it out of a depressive episode about a bad brain day but that wasn’t unintentional.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

1. So it turned out that if you touched the tendons of a dead person’s wrist and channeled a little bit of spiritual energy just right, it made the fingers twitch and curl like they were still alive. (Abattoir)

2. Here’s the thing: your Daozhang is glorious when he kills. (tear out all your tenderness)

3. Turned out that a sect leader’s head came off like anyone else’s. (Unnatural Selection)

4. The first hint that anything had gone awry was the letter from Lan Wangji (His Excellency Hanguang-jun, pardon me) that simply said have you heard from Wei Ying? (some good mistakes)

5. What Jiang Cheng wanted to do, more than anything, was to go home and take a nap. (everyone else is spring bound)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

I usually keep this to 10 but because I’ve been in such a :| place about my own writing I indulged myself this once.

1. Sometimes it felt like all he had done since descending the mountain was shatter his own dreams and accumulate regrets. (nor autumn falter)

**

2. It felt like she was holding all the components of a bomb in her hands, half assembled. If she moved the right way they would stay just that: components. But if she moved the wrong way… (til my judgment day)

**

3. He should have killed him. Should have been the one to strike that blow, in revenge for Jin Zixuan and their sister and everyone else dead for Wei Wuxian’s pride. Maybe then there would not be this gnawing, aching thing embedded in his chest; this itching, unfinished feeling. Maybe then he would not feel torn in two, sometimes like he should have reached out with his other hand and sometimes like he should have struck truer and sometimes both, in the same moment. (Interstitial)

**

4. He owed Wei Wuxian more than he could ever give back in this lifetime. Forgiving him felt like betraying his sister’s memory. Not forgiving him felt like trying to walk with a thorn in his foot. He was just - stuck, caught like a demon in a spiritual net.

Jiang Cheng thought of the way Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, with warmth and trust and love, and the aching, sick jealousy he had no right to feel returned. He felt a little like a child watching someone pick up a toy he’d abandoned and suddenly realizing that he wanted it back. (everyone else is spring bound)

**

5. You close your eyes and think about how he looked back in that town, Shuanghua slicing clean through a man’s neck, opening it to the spine, and think dizzily that he could open you like that and it’d be good, as long as it lasted. (tear out all your tenderness)

**

6. When Wangji loved, he loved with his whole being, without reserve. And now he had been placed between the rock of his convictions and the hard place of his devotion to Wei Wuxian. (the martyr, the victim)

**

7. He spent a week turning the idea over in his head. Studying it like a corpse he was going to dissect, poking at it, cutting it open and examining its insides. (dead reckoning)

**

8. When the world hurt you, that was the only thing to do, after all. Hurt it back, harder, worse. Spill rivers of blood for every drop it squeezed from you.

And when the end came, never go quietly. (the blood in your mouth)

**

9. I would stand with you through the end of the world, said Loki’s voice in his head, and Steve’s heart wasn’t in his chest anymore, was somewhere off on another planet where Loki was lying dead in a ruined city. (we live until we die)

**

10. Was it always going to be like this? Stumbling into traps, tripping over familiar skeletons, slicing himself open on the edges of old hurts. Was there really such a thing as leaving the past behind? He still felt stuck in it, unable to move, and every time he thought he might be finally dragging himself free something pulled him back. (With Absolute Splendor)

**

11. His chest was full of poison. His throat was full of grief. And he was still a little drunk.

Jiang Cheng went to his room, sat down on his bed, put his face in his hands, and cried until he couldn’t breathe. (By Proxy)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

I think the scene from nor autumn falter of Xiao Xingchen just crying his heart out over Xue Yang’s dead body would be up there.

The Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hug from the end of With Absolute Splendor.

Okay, just gonna say it: Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao having sex by the table with Nie Mingjue’s headless corpse on it. So sue me.

The scene in the blood in your mouth where Song Lan has stabbed Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen is following the line of Fuxue to the latter. I have a very clear visual of it in my head and if I could art I’d art it.

Xue Yang with the hallucinatory Xiao Xingchen from liberate spirits, liberate souls.

Fic-writing goals for 2021:

Finish Walking Far From Home.

Maybe I’ll finish some of these MCU WIPs? I’d kind of like to, on an abstract level if nothing else.

Become a more well-adjusted human being about the relationship between my productivity and my self-worth.

[drcrushers]

something i wrote on just for fun. it’s probably a little dumb, but here we are.

Your smile could out-shine the sun.

It had started out innocent enough. An envelope tucked into her momma’s mailbox and addressed to her while she’d been out. Not one to get messages except from Hermes, she’d opened it with some curiosity. A letter, beautifully written in an unfamiliar hand and unsigned at the bottom. Not quite a love letter, but something almost like it. A request to write back, to put it into the mailbox and it would get to the secret author in return. 

Fuck it, why not?

She knew it was probably a mortal just showing fondness; she’d gotten letters like it before. But there’s something rather . . . fine. Poetic, in a sense. Kind. Made her feel a bit silly reading it over and over again, but Persephone is in a decent mood and decides to write back to at least thank them for the lovely letter. 

So she does.

She keeps it simple. Nothing flowery. Thanks the supposed author for the flattery in the way she does all the mortals when they give her offerings. It’s nice to write a letter; she ain’t in a while. She and Hades ain’t exchanged them in years, he doesn’t have time for them. Much like he doesn’t have time for her, but that’s neither here nor there. 

She writes back, signs it sloppily and tucks it into the mailbox. 

Persephone doesn’t expect another one back. 

I can’t stop smiling when I read your letter, so I hope you don’t mind my reply.

But there it is a few days later, the same handwriting with her name on the front. Which is strange - mortals tend to refer to her by titles, not her name. Afraid of saying it, they’d said once. Invoking her wrath. She’d called it a load of horse shit, but mortals tended to do things their way and she was content on letting them keep up that practice long as they wanted. 

This one seemed different.

The letter was a direct response. The same flowery language, delicate and sweet. Flirty, if she didn’t know any better. How flattering. But now she’s just curious - and part of her is spiteful, too. If Hades knew, she could only imagine his fit of jealousy. Good.

Persephone replies. 

And so a summer long fling begins. In words of course, nothing more. The letters become a brightness in her days of work. She looks forward to getting them, reading them, and drafting up replies. She develops a collection of them in her vanity drawer and the stack only grows as the summer goes on. A hidden secret, almost. Something her momma or Hades can’t intrude on or say she can’t. Maybe it’s selfish or stupid, but she doesn’t care. Not like it’ll matter come winter. The poor mortal will be dead or have forgotten her, surely. They often do when she goes down to the underworld. Back to her husband who’ll no doubt drive her to the depths of insanity again. 

Hell, she might not even make it to the end of the summer. Maybe he’ll come get her early - again. She tries not to think of it, and spends her days bringing the summertime to those who need it most. That’s how she operates. The letters are a nice break and she loses herself in them late into the evenings. Rereading them. Writing back. Pretending she has a friendship-maybe-more with someone who certainly doesn’t build capitalistic hellscapes for what is supposed to be her benefit. 

It’s not the butterflies she got from first meeting her husband, but the feeling is something similar. She can’t deny it. She genuinely smiles for what feels like the first time in years when she reads the letters or replies. 

We should meet before you go.

The request comes as the summer begins to fade. Fall and winter are close on it’s heels. She thinks immediately it’s a bad idea - but Hermes, who knows now, only encourages it oddly enough. A night out before she’s confined in darkness for six months. It’s not a bad idea. 

So she accepts.

---

Persephone hates her reflection. 

It shows too many lines, too many wrinkles that have shown up over the years. Her hair is unruly, curlier than her momma’s and it snags everything in the fields in it’s grasp that leaves her plucking foxtails and other burrs out of it for ages. Even down to the shade of her skin - none of it seems particularly beautiful compared to her momma or their other relatives up top. Most of the time she doesn’t give a damn; some days she stares at her reflection and wonders what others must see in her. What her husband had seen in her that day in the garden some centuries ago. What made her so different? So beautiful when there were a plethora of other nymphs, demi-gods, and outright goddesses who outranked her in that regard. 

She huffs, drags her fingers across her face. She’s getting old. Too old. Vaguely she wonders if, as a goddess of life, if she’ll end up grey and decrepit and still trying to garden? An old crone, meant to be the embodiment of life. Hera is as old as her momma and still somehow looks decades younger - then again, Hera doesn’t live in the mortal realm, and doesn’t do physical damned labor. Frankly she wonders how a woman like her survived ten years of war, but that’s besides the point. Much as she loathes her own reflection, Persephone would rather be wrinkled and grey than live on that mountain half the year. 

She toys with a small pot of dark charcoal eyeliner, well used and worn before picking up a small brush with which to apply it with. She remembers using wild berries to stain her lips long before her momma ever let her near an ounce of make up, trying to make herself look like what she imagined the ones up on the mountain looked like. Ethereal, beautiful, striking women - as a girl she’d had no idea how awful and cruel they could be at the time and simply wanted to embody them. Now she mostly tries to be everything they aren’t out of sheer spite. She uses a rich plum color against her lips, and decides she looks decent enough in the reflection that blinks back at her. 

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this - it’s stupid. But she’s just bitter and angry enough at her husband to spite him, too, and Persephone ain’t always made the best decisions sometimes. Hermes had only encouraged her, clearly eager to get her out of her own mind for a night and forget about her crippling marriage. 

Harmless night of flirting could do her good. Remind her she ain’t an old washed up hag. Morale boost and all that. Not as if she wasn’t spending the evening in his bed - though the more bitter part of her says it might do her husband some good to think so. Sober his ass right up to keep him acting like a damned moron. Besides, she’s been writing with this stranger all summer. The letters have been her life and Persephone would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious and intrigued. Eager to meet this stranger who’d spent his summer writing to her as well. Clearly he cared and if Persephone could give him a night of enjoyable company (sans anything below the belt) before winter claimed him, so be it. 

Huffing, Persephone tries to fuss with her hair - and decides it’s a lost cause. Why does she care so much? She shouldn’t. But she tries. Because Hades ain’t given her the excuse in a while. Might as well enjoy the night, even if it won’t lead to nothing. She ain’t that type - even if she wanted to be. Persephone has been fiercely loyal to her husband and knows he’s the same; they’re just a damned wreck when it comes to communicating. Maybe she can practice on this little date.. It’s the first time she’s given in to Hermes’ encouraging in a while - who she knows would rather see her happy than anything and thinks Hades is the source of all her misery. He’s half right. Truth is she does a lot of misery to herself because she can’t swallow her own damn pride or some other bullshit. Much as Hades has built the wall between them, Persephone’s been supplying him with the bricks for years. 

She doesn’t dress fancy. Her usual is good enough, still smelling of the flowers and pollen and the warmth of the sun stitched into the fabric. It’s her favorite. Maybe that’s why Hades had replicated it in black for down below, the dusting of diamonds a nod to how he viewed her as a gem to be displayed. A gown of darkness that was everything her favorite summer dress wasn’t. She doesn’t remember where she got it, just that it’s comfortable and flows freely enough not to restrict her. In the other she feels caged, chest tight and pained when she tries to breathe too deeply. It’s in her head, she knows, but the difference still matters. 

Satisfied she looks semi-decent enough to mingle with mortals, Persephone half gallops down the steps in the way she always has at her momma’s house. Ain’t been her house in a while. Ain’t felt like home since she ran off down below. Still, it serves as a roof over her head when she’s up top and her momma is still kind enough most of the time, eager to have her home. Demeter is out in the fields so she isn’t there to throw a comment her way as she leaves the house, the evening air slightly more crisp than usual. A sign that winter would be coming on soon - a sign that she’d be headed back down below in the not too distant future. Frankly she’s surprised Hades ain’t come for her already. Her stomach twists at the thought. 

Hermes’ bar isn’t far, the town a small scattering of lights in the growing dim light of day. Small houses gathered together, a quaint little place that had been perfect for Demeter, apparently. The bar was one of the larger buildings, music and voices already adrift out the open door. She can’t remember a time when it wasn’t crowded. Since she’s frequented crowds have only grown - Persephone remembers being worshipped at altars carved of marble and stone; now there’s only the bar that carries her token of favors, her mortals far too eager to buy her a drink in some parody of once bloody sacrifices. She doesn’t complain; they’re good at picking wine. 

As always there are gazes that turn her way as she approaches and Persephone plasters a smile across her face. She’s well practiced these days, pretending to be happy. The mortals don’t notice and greet her as always. Raise their cups, toast to their patroness who tries - but it’s hard when old man winter comes early and won’t let her go until late. Hard to keep an entire world going when she gets a fraction of time to bring decent harvests. Still seems no matter how hard she tries there are always ones who don’t make it through the winter. The ones missing from the tables in the bar. She may not remember their exact faces, but she knows they’re missing. Knows these places should be filled by healthy warm bodies - and instead there are only fleeting ghosts in the chairs instead. 

“Was wonderin’ if you’d show up.” Hermes remarks lightly, pouring her drink before she can even reach the bar proper. “I always do. Show up. Reckon it’s like clockwork these days.” Persephone replies, grabbing the glass as he finishes and taking a long swig. Immediately the warmth spreads from her belly out, and she knows she’ll be numb by the end of the night. Hopefully. 

“Sit yourself down. Or make the rounds. Whatever ya like. Your friend ain’t here yet.”

She snorts. “Of course not.”

Holding tight to her drink, Persephone does a turn about the room. The mortals are usually pleased to see her, leech off the warmth she naturally radiates. A smile, a laugh, a dance - it’s all too familiar to her and she’s happy to help in the ways she can. If they’re gonna die, they might as well die happy. Either way in the end they all come to her in the underworld. Once she could have granted them some semblance of the afterlife, but now they all toil away in those damned factories and mines. But they don’t need to know it. Not yet. Not now. 

She loses track of time as some point, because Hermes suddenly grabs her by the elbow and they do a little twirl. Her body is less tight, the alcohol already working easily into her system to let her at least enjoy the night without struggling to forget about her shithole marriage. 

“Your date is here.” He grins. 

“Ain’t a date.” She teases. “Least, better not let my man hear you say that.”

“Won’t hear it from me, sister.” Hermes winks, and turns her nearly into the arms of another. A sharp, delightful feeling races up her arms and down her spine the second her hands touch the rough ones of the other figure. 

She knows who it is without question, without even looking up. A smile comes unbidden before she can stop it. 

“It’s you.” She whispers, one of those hands coming up to tuck beneath her chin, to bring her gaze to his. Her heart races and she wants to laugh.

Hades smiles.

“It’s me.”

[theladyragnell]

Omg, just saw you're writing ficlets, I must have missed them all recently so now I have a whole bunch to read - what a treat! If you're still taking prompts, leverage team + a bookclub of some kind?

Wuthering Heights

Eliot can't help snorting when Sophie mentions Heathcliff, which is his first mistake. His second mistake is not shutting up when she asks, pretending to be lofty but mostly clearly shit-stirring, “What, Eliot? Do you have a problem with one of the great love stories of the British canon?”

Sophie is mostly pissed off at Nate and he should just grunt and let her have this win, but Eliot isn't going to put up with this shit. “You've got Austen and you think Wuthering Heights is somehow anywhere in the same class? It's horrifying. They're all shitty people.”

Distracted, she beams at him. Across the room somewhere, Nate relaxes, out of firing range for a second. He owes Eliot for this one. Parker and Hardison are both watching with those tilted-head puppy looks they've got sometimes. It's anyone's guess whether they try to get involved. Eliot kind of hopes they do, because Sophie's got a gleam in her eye. “And that's the fun of it! A more interesting group of personalities than Austen ever wrote. We should read it together, and I'll prove you wrong.”

Definitely pissed off at Nate, and Eliot is not getting in the middle of this. “What, you mean like a book club?”

That's his third mistake, because Sophie clearly loves that idea, and fifteen minutes later, after Parker attempted to fade away out the window and Hardison argued at least four times that he's read the Cliff's Notes and the Wikipedia summary and does not need any more of that “white people nonsense,” they all agree to have a book club and read damn Wuthering Heights together.

They all hate it but Sophie, which Eliot takes great pleasure in, but she just tosses her head and says “Fine, then, Eliot, you pick the next one. I'm sure it's something terrible like Hemingway.”

To Kill a Mockingbird

Nate can't say he minds rereading an old favorite over the course of a month—it's a good pick from Eliot, and even Hardison didn't object too much. (Hardison also actually seems to be reading it this time instead of rereading the summary on Wikipedia, but Nate knows when to say things like that, and telling Sophie Hardison was cheating was tempting but foolish, considering Hardison already had a full plate with establishing very specific identities for their latest job during their first month of book club.) Sophie grumbles a little about Americans, but she does that at least twice a week anyway.

Mostly, he keeps an eye on Parker. He doesn't know how much of Wuthering Heights she read (his guess is about fifty pages, but it could be more or less, the first meeting of their book group was mostly Sophie and Eliot arguing and Hardison threatening to play Kate Bush if they tried to make him tiebreak), but this one, she's reading. He doubts she read it in school like the rest of them did.

This meeting, when they finally have it, two days after they wrap up a con, when they're at loose ends and waiting for the aftermath to die down before they try something new, is a lot shorter than the last one. They all like the book, Sophie grudgingly, so it's harder to keep up the talk without a lot of arguments, but Nate enjoys the chance to relax, to think about things besides the jobs. Much as he can be annoyed by their constant presence in his life and his apartment, he likes these people, and it doesn't hurt to read a book about them.

Even Parker speaks up once, though all she says is “I liked all the characters.” It's a start.

Sophie must guess that he's feeling smug about how well the team is doing, because she looks at him when they all have to admit they're out of things to say about the book. “Nate! You should choose next, I'm sure you've got something interesting up your sleeve.”

The Great Gatsby

“Really, man? Fitzgerald?” Hardison asks Nate three days into the month before their next book club. “You are a damn stereotype, that's what you are.”

Nate just smirks at him, because he's the worst. “You're reading it.”

“That is because I'm bored, and I hope if I keep reading this, I will fall asleep due to an excess of boredom.” Plus, he's read it before, a copy with a number on it borrowed from school, which he mostly skimmed to bullshit his way through essays, which he was very good at. “Blah blah blah, the rich suck, steal their money, we do not need this moral, we are living it.”

“The prose is good,” says Nate, like a complete dick, and wanders off to work on ruining someone's life, presumably. Probably within fifteen minutes he'll rescue Hardison from a book about the world's worst people

When they get to the book club, Eliot and Sophie both like it too, the traitors, though for totally different reasons. Parker, when Hardison appeals to her for backup, wrinkles her nose. “Someone should have been conning them,” she finally pronounces.

“See?” Hardison says, triumphant, before Nate can say anything about how they were conning themselves or something like that, because there is only so much a man can take. “I'm picking the next one, y'all can't be trusted. Don't worry, Parker, it won't be boring.”

The Hobbit

Parker hasn't read a lot of books. School, when she went, she sometimes had to, but she was at a lot of different schools, and she skipped a lot, and then there was Archie, and there wasn't really much point in going to school, and she never got the habit of sitting still and reading. It's another thing that if she mentioned it would probably make Hardison look sad and Sophie start planning to widen her education and Eliot growl a little and start leaving books around where she can find them. At least Nate's never surprised by the things she doesn't know.

The book club is maybe a little bit about teaching Parker without her knowing, because Parker's getting to know her team pretty well and she thinks it's something they would do, but Sophie mentioned, that first month, that everybody's picking books a lot of people know, that a lot of people might reference as part of a con and expect Parker to pick up on, so she's been trying not to resent it, because it comes in handy. It's just a lot, and her attention wanders, and she hasn't finished one yet, and this one is Hardison's and he keeps saying she'll like it, and she can't even start. Hobbit isn't even a real word.

“Hey, I brought you something,” he says a few days into the month. “Thought you might appreciate it since the whole sitting still to read thing isn't your thing.”

Parker frowns at him. “I can read.”

He puts his hands up. “Did I say you couldn't? But I brought you a way to multitask: audiobooks. They're the future, Parker! Someone reads you the book, you take it in while you climb through ducts or hang off buildings or whatever else you do in your spare time.”

Parker takes the zip drive he hands her. “I'll try,” she says, dubious.

It's easier. When she's listening, she can keep busy and still follow the story, and she likes that Bilbo is learning how to be a thief, kind of like Nate, and that the dwarves are trying to get home, and that it's silly until it isn't. And some parts of it feel familiar, like maybe she's read them or heard them before, which is weird, but she doesn't mind that either.

“Are there more books about Bilbo?” she asks when they meet up to talk about the book, almost before anyone can say anything else.

Hardison beams at her. “No, but there are three more about his nephew. Hey, it's your turn to pick a book! Maybe you can pick one of those.”

She'll probably end up listening to them, but she shakes her head. She's been doing research to see what books she might like, and Hardison can pick the books about Bilbo's nephew on his next picks.

Watership Down

“I just like rabbits!” says Parker, in the face of Hardison's accusatory look at their next book club meeting, and Sophie has to stifle a smile. She suspected Parker might have picked a book without finding out much about the story, though she can't regret it. She hasn't read Watership Down in years, and rather likes it. Though Parker might have done better to pick The Velveteen Rabbit instead, though she could see where that would hit closer to home.

“Then why would you assign us a book about them fighting wars, woman?” Hardison asks, and the two of them devolve into arguments instead of talking about mythology and humanity.

They're all five in the same room and not talking about crime, though, so Sophie is counting the whole idea as a win. Nate and Eliot, watching the argument just like she is, seem amused, and even Eliot isn't pretending to be annoyed much these days. As always, her idea is an unmitigated success.

And, if she isn't miscounting, it's her pick next, and she has just the right idea for what to choose.

[laisaxrem]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi Characters: Haruno Sakura, Hatake Kakashi Additional Tags: 50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts, Prompt 46 - A lingering kiss before after a long trip apart, I’m an idiot, I had read wrong, so I corrected the prompt, I said you that I’m an idiot Summary:  Kakashi. If you reply to this letter by telling me that you will be late again, know that it doesn't matter, I understand perfectly. Hokage's duties come first, I've always told you. Also because now I have someone else to keep my bed warm at night, so I don't need you anymore. Sakura

.

.

.

It had been a long and tiring month. Kakashi had been summoned by the Daimyō and what must have been a short visit of less than a week had turned into thirty-four days away not only from his beloved Village but above all from his beloved wife. Obviously when he had realized he wasn’t coming home on schedule, he had Sakura send a messenger hawk assuring her that he would be back by the end of the week. He had had to send two more messages of this kind and finally, on the twenty-fifth day, had summoned Pakkun asking him to come and see Sakura, make sure she was okay, and maybe stay with her until he returned.

Now that he finally saw the gates of the Village, Kakashi accelerated his pace. In the pocket of his uniform he heard the creaking of the paper of the last note that his wife had sent him and that he had read and reread in the last few days.

Kakashi.

If you reply to this letter by telling me that you will be late again, know that it doesn't matter, I understand perfectly. Hokage's duties come first, I've always told you.

Also because now I have someone else to keep my bed warm at night, so I don't need you anymore.

Sakura

As soon as he had read it for a moment he was baffled. Then he had burst out laughing and took pen and paper to answer… which he had never done because the Daimyō had called him urgently. From there he had returned to his apartments only to throw himself into bed for a few hours and take a quick shower the next morning. Three days later, finally, the Daimyō had given him permission to return to the Village. Kakashi hadn’t had it repeated twice and left the next day when the sun hadn’t risen yet. Throughout the journey he had forced his escort to keep pace; his goal was to get home by evening: he wanted to arrive before Sakura went to bed, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close and kiss her until he fell asleep.

Too bad he hadn’t come to terms with his two babysitters. Genma had started muttering about a hypothetical sprained ankle in the middle of the morning but Kakashi had ignored him. He had not been able to ignore, however, Tenzō’s insistent chakra which a couple of hours later had started to glow in waves like fire; it was a clear warning sign from his ANBU team’s taichō and for a while Kakashi was able to ignore it. It was nearly noon when he had had to give in to the insistent chakra pulses and signalled Genma and Sai to stop for lunch; he had given them a little over forty minutes, mostly because Kakashi realized that his head had started to hurt and he needed to rest (oh, he would have come up with a way to make Tenzō pay for that, that was for sure).

They had taken two more breaks, much to Kakashi’s despondency (although, as the sun went down on the horizon, it was increasingly clear to him that the chances of being able to return to the Village before evening were slim or nil) and it was dark when they finally entered the gates of Konoha.

Kakashi did not want to do anything but leave his escort there and run home but he knew he had to go to the office first: the next morning he would have to meet the full Council and update them so he needed to have all the documents in order. Shikamaru was waiting for him there and a part of Kakashi was amazed (it was tragically far beyond his usual schedule); but on the one hand he was grateful because thanks to his help he got the last chores done in half the time.

Almost two hours later Kakashi closed the file he had in front of him with a sigh.

«I’m sorry, Shikamaru, but I really have to go for today», he announced, casting a worried glance at the wall clock. Shit.

His young friend nodded and began to collect the papers neatly.

«Sakura will be mad, huh?»

«Mmm… Maybe», he conceded. Then he smiled and added: «She wrote to me that she found someone else to warm her bed».

After a second of amazement (Kakashi was happy to have said it just to see his usual bored expression give way to a pair of wide open eyes) Shikamaru laughed and rubbed the back of his neck absently.

«Good luck, then».

Too exhausted to run but with his chakra at a frighteningly low level, Kakashi weighed his alternatives and, with a nod to Shikamaru, grabbed his backpack and used the Shunshin to leave the office and reappear outside his home (he knew that Tenzō hated it when he did and that awareness was enough to compensate for the severe dizziness that hit him upon landing).

When he opened the front door he was greeted by darkness and silence.

«Tadaima», he announced in a low voice as he gently placed his backpack on the cabinet in the genkan and tidied up his sandals.

For the first time in a month, Kakashi felt he could breathe perfectly and the fatigue and frustration he had been carrying around all that time faded away from his body.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to run to their bedroom and wake Sakura, lose himself in her embrace and feel her warm skin against his, her thin but strong fingers stroking his hair. Not to have sex (he didn’t think he had the energy right now) but simply to feel her. But the other part of him knew that it was terribly late and Sakura had a bad habit of overdoing it in the hospital and Academy and wherever they called her, so she deserved every minute of sleep she could carve out.

But…

But Kakashi needed to hear her voice. Damn.

Sighing he went into the bathroom on the ground floor and washed quickly using the little showers: he was tired but not so tired as to take the dirt of the trip to bed and at the same time he didn’t want to risk waking Sakura using the shower upstairs.

A towel around his waist and one around his neck, Kakashi padded up the stairs and went to their room. The fusuma was open and as soon as he appeared on the threshold the man realized that Sakura had not lied in her letter: in fact his wife was not alone in their bed.

With her there was a mountain of dogs.

Sakura was in his half of the bed, lying on her side, the sheets all bunched up at the bottom, Pakkun lying belly up under her right hand. Bull was crouched at her feet, his forelegs intertwined with her legs, and took up most of the bottom of the bed while the other six ninkens were arranged around them: Bisuke had his muzzle pressed against Sakura’s back, Akino was for half lying on Bull, Shiba on his stomach took up almost half of the bed forcing Ūhei to remain curled up in a corner while Urushi managed to carve out a space of his own on Sakura’s pillow and Guruko’s tufted tail was sticking out from under the sheets. Finally a small black ball was curled up on his pillow next to Sakura’s pink head, its tail stretched out to brush her neck: Yoru, their kitten, not even three months old.

Kakashi stared at the scene with his mouth open for a moment, his eyelids blinking fast, and then a laugh escaped his lips. He stopped it immediately but it was too late. Sakura moved and opened her eyes and after a few seconds she brought him into focus.

«Mmm? Kakashi?» she moaned, her voice hoarse with sleep.

He came over and knelt on the floor, one hand going to touch her shoulder left bare by the loose t-shirt she was wearing. That brief contact was like a balm for Kakashi: he knew that he had missed Sakura but until that moment he hadn’t really realized how much.

«Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up», he whispered, leaning forward to gently kiss the skin he had just stroked.

Sakura’s eyes fixed on his and Kakashi got lost in that green, so much so that he almost didn’t notice her fingers caressing his face slowly, gently, as if to memorize every curve and every corner.

Kakashi could no longer restrain himself and leaned forward to kiss her. He didn’t even open his mouth, too exhausted to think about deepening contact, and Sakura didn’t protest. Yet that kiss on the lips, one of the most chaste they had ever exchanged without the hindrance of the mask, lasted an infinity of seconds, the lips brushing and retracting and then approaching again in a slow dance.

Finally Sakura sighed and rested her forehead against his for a second.

«When did you arrive?»

«Less than two hours ago. I had to go to the office», Kakashi replied, his fingers tracing Sakura’s skin in slow movements. Then his gaze was drawn to the movement of a tail and he smiled. «So you weren’t kidding when you said there was someone else to keep your bed warm, huh?»

«Yeah», Sakura chuckled as her fingers mimicking his. «In fact, maybe they keep a little too hot», she added, nodding her head to the sheets abandoned on the bottom of the bed.

«We can always leave, girly», came the grunt from Pakkun.

The little ninken opened his eyes and scanned them with his stern frown but Kakashi knew it was just a farce.

«Absolutely not», Sakura replied, giving a little scratch to the brown fur of his eldest ninken. «You are not going away, tonight».

«Oh. So I’ll take a futon…» Kakashi began, uncertain. Because the more he looked, the more it became evident that the ninken took up all the space in the bed and that there was no room for him too.

He had to admit, he was disappointed. Yes, the sight of Sakura and the dogs snuggled together warmed his heart, but after thirty-four days away, Kakashi wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and fall asleep to the sound of her breath.

«Where do you think you’re going?» Sakura stopped him, grabbing him by the wrist, as if she was afraid of seeing him disappear. «There is room for you too, you know?»

«There is?»

«There is. Come on, Rokudaime-sama, come here», Sakura urged

Kakashi hesitated a little longer, trying to figure out where he could actually lie down. On Bull, like when he was just a six year old boy? Or maybe he could convince Shiba to sleep a little more composed so as to carve out a corner of the mattress?

«Stop being precious and join us», Pakkun scolded him as he idly stretched his legs and slightly changed position. At his words, the other ninkens moved just enough to create a space behind Sakura, small but enough for Kakashi to stretch out beside his wife and hug her. «Or go to the other room: we’ll take care of keeping Sakura company», added his old friend again. Then he closed his eyes.

Giving in to Pakkun’s words and Sakura’s smile, Kakashi got up and shook off the damp towels. He already had one knee on the bed, his eyes looking for the best way to reach his place without stepping on some ears or some tails, when he was interrupted by two brown eyes that glared at him.

«Put on a pair of underwear first», Pakkun growled louder than before. And Kakashi realized that he had never actually worn a pair of boxers after washing. «What are you, a savage?»

Sakura and Kakashi stared at each other for a second, then they both burst out laughing.

[booklovingturtle]

Cardan finds out how Balekin tortured Jude

This turned out to be longer than planned. As soon as I submitted my last final assignment for the semester, I opened up Tumblr and wrote this for @duarteegreenbriar bc of this post. You can def expect another fic where he finds about Locke *wink wink*

I hope you enjoy it! This is kinda like hc/fic based in QON while Jude is still exiled. Also its unedited because I wanted to get this out before I went on Christmas break. 

“We have news for you,” was the Bomb’s way of greeting Cardan one earlier morning. Yellow and pinks drops of sunrise had just barely started to fall over Elfhame when he received the Roach’s message, asking to meet.

Not too far into Jude’s exile and a few months since the old Court of Shadows had been demolished meant that the High King and his Queen’s band of spies were meeting in an old cellar long since forgotten in the palace. The only way to even enter it was through an opening Cardan had used his new-found magic to make. The opening was hidden in a fake armoire of one of their guests rooms. The room itself was perpetual damp, insufficiently furnished, and lacking any of fun memories the old court held. But it was well protected from prying ears and hard to access so it would due.

“How are my favorite pair of mischievous friends?” Cardan smirked reflexively at the serious look on their faces. His tail twitched uncomfortably beneath his clothes.

Mouth in a thin line. Back straight. Eyes narrowed. Hand on nearest weapon. Yes, everything about the way they stood told him whatever he was going to hear would not be pleasant.

“We have news,” the Roach mimicked his companion’s no-nonsense tone.

“So I’ve heard,” Cardan rolled his eyes. He retied the thick red cape he’d thrown on himself to fight of the chill of the cellar. It gave his hands something to do other than twitch at his sides. “Jude?”

“Yes and no.” The Bomb started. “She’s fine. Safe as usually doing some odd jobs for a faerie in the mortal world.”

“This about what happened before her exile.” Roach continued. His beady eyes were unreadable as usual. “We looked into Balekin’s connections with the Sea as you asked us to. We found out what Orlagh had been doing with Jude while she was imprisoned.”

A lump sat in his throat. No matter where she was Jude always felt like the center of his world. He couldn’t go longer than an hour awake or asleep without thinking about her. Her time in the Undersea had only intensified the problem for him.

“Out with it. What did you discover?”

“You already know that Balekin thought he could glamour her. I-” the Bomb looked anxiously at the Roach. They shared a glance and she pulled a weathered envelope from inside her coat. “We think it might be best if you just read this. It’s a collection of court documents detailing what the Undersea would do to her.”

“I don’t understand. Why would they keep records of that? What use do they have of collecting memories of Jude’s torture? I thought those events were mostly private for Orlagh’s own pleasure.”

“We can only assume that there were more people attending them than Jude was led to believe. Perhaps as secret spectators. One can only guess what Undersea’s Queen was plotting.”

“There’s more. Some came from Balekin’s personal journals, uncovered despite Orlagh’s attempt to destroy any evidence of her alliance with him.”

Cardan couldn’t stand their cautious looks. He turned to face the wall behind him. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to feel such a heady mix hate and fear and sorrow and freedom all at one time. Every mention of Balekin’s name was like a blow to the stomach.

“Just tell me what happened.”

“We think it might be best if you read it. You don’t have to. There’s nothing really useful to us if you’d prefer to not know exactly what they did.” The Bomb said I’m a voice usually soft for her.

“She’s right. But I think it’s important that you know regardless. Take the papers. Read them if you want to. When you’re ready.” The Roach said in a way that suggested that it shouldn’t have even been an option to not read what was contained inside the envelope.

Cardan faced them again. The Bomb handed him the collection of papers and left. The Roach stayed back long enough to warn the High King.

“It won’t be easy. What you find in there.”

Cardan looked him in the eyes, trying to find some comfort or understanding that he could lean on. Instead he just found pity.

“Thank you. Tell the Bomb that I appreciate it. No matter what I find.”

Roach nodded and walked out of the cellar. Within seconds it was just Cardan standing in a damp cellar by himself. He stared at the weighted envelop. It felt like it was full of explosive lead, not weathered folded leaves of paper.

Cardan tucked it into his belt and trekked back up to his room. The guards lined outside of his chambers looked curiously at the sight of their High King. He closed the door behind him and stripped off the heavy cloak. Cardan sat at the bench at the foot of his large bed. He wasn’t sure if it was his right to know what happened to her during her imprisonment. If Jude had wanted to share those details with him then she would have.

Cardan stared at an empty corner of his room. A spiraling curl of vines snaked up the walls. White dahlia’s sprung up amidst the green leaves. He’d been practicing how to control his pull of the land for a few months now but it still felt odd to be able to sway nature this way and that.

He thought about the dizzying display of power he’d used when he was face to face with Orlagh. It had felt as if the very land he stood on bowed beneath his fists. He knew she’d never admit it but he remembered the look on Jude’s face when she’d first realized what was happening. She was impressed by all that he’d learned to do while she was gone.

Not gone. Captured. Held prisoner.

Cardan didn’t let himself second guess his decision. He yanked the envelop open and scanned the first few documents.

The mortal is starting to loose it’s sanity. It’s clear even the glamour can’t help it hold on much longer. It is much thinner than it had been when Orlagh first brought it. There are also a considerable number of marks left along its body. Rumor has it the princess herself may be responsible fo them.

Cardan felt like throwing up. He remembered how Jude had looked like a ghost when she'd first returned. All bones and angles when she’d been hard muscle and soft skin.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the images of her skin touching his. Of his fingers touching her. The papers in this hands made him sick to his stomach. They called her an it. And said she had marks. Not one but many.

The dahlia’s crumbled up and withered to dust. Hot pink heart-shaped buds bloomed in their place.

He flipped to the next page, recognizing the handwriting of the thick stationary paper. His hand was shaking by the time he go to the end of the torn journal entry.

Jude has been an interesting toy. A fun toy. Her attachment to my brother has been a mystery. I though perhaps she had some sort of secret or piece of black mail to hold over him. Even with the glamor, she hasn’t revealed anything if she does. Though the nature of their relationship is still unknown, I believe I have a way of figuring it out.

Cardan stood abruptly. His body hummed with nervous. His tail wriggled uncomfortably until it came loose. It swung behind him and Cardan had to step away from the bench to keep it from slamming against it. The next journal entry had him regretting he’d stood up.

Any suspicions I’d had of their relationship have been answered. I used a glamour to force her to kiss me as she would kiss my brother. It worked perfectly. It was horrendous. I hate myself for even asking her to do it. For degrading myself enough to touch a creature like her but it worked. She kissed me with all of the fires that mortal are described to feel when they love something. Their bright and easily extinguished fires. She looked at me as though I was the only man she’d ever seen and ever wanted to touch. I almost withdrew the demand but I’m glad that I didn’t. Had I gone back on my command, I never would have understood how deep her affection for him went. She truly cares for him.

The next question is how much does Cardan care for her? It’s clear he’s fascinated by her. Curious about her. But cats are curious of mice when they first chase after them. It’s after they’ve caught them beneath their claws that they bare their fangs. Perhaps that’s what Cardan has been doing. Though knowing the naive nature of my brother’s heart, I highly doubt it. I’ll find out soon enough. for the girl’s sake, I hope it’s later rather than sooner. Should Orlagh let her live long enough to ever see Cardan again, I’d love to watch him destroy that mortal love of hers.

Cardan’s knees gave out from under him. He stared at the letters for what felt like centuries. They didn’t feel real. Balekin had forced Jude to kiss him. He knew she wasn’t glamoured as he thought she had been. That meant Jude had to kiss him completely aware of her actions. She had to force herself for kiss Balekin in a way that would convince him of her love for his brother. Cardan reread it a forth time, praying that somehow the letters would rearrange themselves to tell him a different story.

Distantly he realized why the Bomb and the Roach had opted out of telling him themselves. How did you tell the High King of Elfhame that his abusive older brother forced the woman he loved to kiss him.

The paper crinkled in his hands. Cardan released an angry growl. His blood boiled as he read it for a sixth time. She never mentioned it. Not that they had much time before her banishment to talk through all the details. Nor was it likely that Jude, with her affinity for secrets and lies, would tell him the truth about the situation.

Cardan paced back and forth in the room. If she would just answer his damned letters. If he could just get her to come back to Elfhame and talk to her. To see her. To apologize for what happened between them. Between her and Balekin. He was never more grateful than he was in that moment that she killed him.

After reading the letter Cardan almost wished he’d come back to life just so he could drive the blade through his older brother himself. Cardan heard the crackling fire of the hearth. He threw the stack of papers into the fire. A thick puff of smoke fizzled out of the flames as they blackened into ash.

The ugly words disappeared from existence but the High King would never forget the torturous curves. He’d never forget what the Undersea did to her. What Balekin did to her.

Cardan rushed to his desk, brashly scribbling out a missive to send to Jude.

Jude, he started the letter. Jude. He couldn’t think of anything else to write to her. Jude. Please come back. Just come back. Jude. I’m sorry. I’ll be better. I promise. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude .Jude. Jude.

He’d filled the paper with her name. If he couldn’t see her then maybe the letters of her name would be enough to erase the sickness he felt after opening the envelope. 

-

Author’s Note: I couldn’t figure out how long she was exiled bc I’m still on campus and my books are at home so excuse the ambiguous timeline. If anyone knows the answer to how long she was imprisoned/exiled/when the letters were written please let me know.

[tortuerex]

My honest, humble, and not-objective-at-all opinion about LORDS OF THE SITH

LORDS OF THE SITH by Paul S. Kemp, published in 2015 (canon)

Real quick plot summary : The Free Ryloth Movement, led by Chad Syndulla, attempts a massive attack on the imperial forces, in hope of killing Darth Vader and the Emperor and strike a fatal blow to the Empire. Things didn't exactly go as planned.

I've FINALLY managed to finished the book, started weeks (months?) ago. Actually, I finished it less than 15 minutes ago. And I really enjoyed it. So why did it took me so long ? I'll go back to that point later.

First of all, let me tell you I didn't exactly found in this book what I expected to find. And in a good way. Judging by the cover and the resume, I was prepared for a book mostly about the Emperor and Vader, but I'd say approximatively half the book is about them directly. (I mean, with the exterior narrator talking about them.) The rest of the book is about Cham and his movement, the Twi'lek rebels, and his relationship with Isval. And Isval was my favorite character in the book, she was really well written and her story is so interesting. Kemp managed to bring so more life in all these secondary characters.

I'll try to be cohesive because since I've just finished the book but begun it long ago, I have to go back to my notes about the first half.

I've loved learning things about the Twi'lek's history and traditions. I finally know why some male twi'leks have sharpen teeth and not female ! (In case you don't know, well, that's tradition. But Isval sharpened hers to show she's a hunter too.)

The whole passage of the book with Isval going downtown to literaly hunt imperials and save prostitutes Twi'leks gave me goosebumps. Definitively not a thing I was expecting in a « Sith Lords » book, but it was awesome, so dark, so shady, I was feeling the unhealthy atmosphere of the district. First I was thinking « Ok, he's suggesting she's a former sexual slave and that this is the kind of district these things happen in. » And then I was like « Ok that's not suggested anymore, that's pretty explicit right now. » I didn't expect a Star Wars book to talk to me about sexual abuse and prostitution, but boy it was so strong and hard to read.

And to be honest, I'm really thankful to Kemp for not being patronizing about it. Isval is not a broken little thing, she's a warrior, she had a really bad time in her life, and now she's fighting to help other girls, and she's fueled by hate.

And about Isval, her relationship with Cham was really touching as well. We kinda see it grows before our eyes, not invading the mission nor polluting their discussions, but slowly showing more and more, from chief to subordinate, friend to friend, freedom fighter to freedom fighter, and finally acknowledging that from the very beginning, they were more than that but never had the opportunity to take their chance.

We'll talk a bit about the Sith side of the book too. It was very enjoyable. Exploring the relation between Vader and the Emperor felt like a force hand tightening your chest. The Emperor is perpetually testing Vader (and everyone else). Everything he does, everything he says, has a purpose. This man isn't tied by the mortal rules of luck and probability. Everything is planned and calculated. And Vader knows it. Every word the Emperor speak has a reason, and Vader is like « What did he mean ? » and then « Ok, that's what he meant. »

Vader having flashes of his past life, his former friends, the Clone Wars, Padmé... Every one was heartbreaking and the Emperor KNOWS it. He used them, to keep Vader hateful, to constantly remind him he's a tool of a greater force, and every sentences he said could have been finished by « So... who's the boss ? ».

He's the boss.

You can feel how strong and inflexible they are, there is so many good descriptions of their strenght and determination.

A bit about the secondary characters : I liked Belkor, he was interesting. I liked seeing how he slowly turn insane through the book, ending up talking to a corpse. He's the opposite of the Emperor, having to constantly change his plans depending on other people or just because of misfortune, being manipulated and mocked, and finally snapping out of his mind because of pressure.

Moff Mors was cool too. I would have love to learn more about her, about her past life, but the little we know about her explains perfectly who she is. I felt a little frustrated by never knowing what happen to her at the end, because I personnaly doubt the Emperor will forgive years of non-interference and laziness (damn she was supposed to handle Ryloth!). It's implicitly said she's redeeming herself, but seriously, Palps, do you even redeem bro ?

My biggest problem with this book can be resumed in one word : LYLEKS. The passage with the Emperor and Vader fighting Lyleks was way way way way too loooooooong. I really felt it like a break in the momentum. And speaking of break, I had mine at this point. Bad luck, but hard weeks of work happened at this moment in my life, I had to put the book down while reading this passage, and it was hard coming back to it. Everytime I was reopening the book and seing the Lyleks everywhere I was like « Nobody got time fo' that ». It was a real let down.

To be honest, it almost felt like this whole passage was added in the book completely artificially. Like Kemp has finished his book and the editor said « Hey man that's a cool book you wrote, but what about more Sith kung-fu fighting ? Like, maybe, 40 pages of it ? »

It felf so weird and useless compared to the rest of the book. So unnatural. And it's the only part of the book where I've found severe incoherences. Vader deigniting his lightsaber two times on the same page (without having turning it on in the meantime), and few pages later the same thing but this time with igniting it. Like this passage was rushed and hadn't been seriously reread and corrected.

This was a serious problem because as soon as I've finished the Lyleks passage, and Vader and Palps were running into the young Twi'lek girl in the forest and then heading toward her village, the tension was back again, the apprehension of what was going to happen next, and everything then come one after another very smoothly and I was trapped again in the suspense.

So WHY ? Why would you stop this so effective momentum with an endless fight when we all know the outcome of the fight ?

This being said, what would be my opinion on Lords of the Sith ?

PRO :

- So much characterization. Every character is unique, even the secondary ones. Every motivation, backstory, personnality is understandable and relatable. That's for me the strongest force of the book.

- A good story. That may sound stupid but it's not. Writing a original story in a so vast universe isn't easy. You can't just repeat things that have aleady been told in another Star Wars media, you have to be creative. In this book the stakes are high for the heroes, but may seems lower on the scale of the galaxy. The whole point is... will it be the case ?

- The suspense. Like I've already said, having appealing secondary characters is a licensed book is super important to keep the suspense. Sure, Palps, Vader and Cham won't die. But you don't know about the other ones. And you care about them. You've learnt to know them, to love them.

CON :

THE LYLEEEEEEEEKS

TO CONLUDE :

A very important book to read. Don't expect to see crazy sith things all the time like you may think you will because of the cover. You'll see some sith shits (like Vader boarding a enemy ship alone in deep space), but that's not what important (yet that's impressive, to say the least). You'll learn about Vader, how he feels, his anger, his neverending pain, you'll learn about life on Ryloth, slavery, humiliation of having your planet under imperial jurisdiction. You'll learn about imperials too, human being working for the Empire, how they feel too, their backstory, how they are not just bad guys in uniform blindly following orders.

That's a very deep book for so many reasons (except Lyleks.)

I hoped you liked this review, I'm sorry about the time it took me to write it down. I may take a break because the next book I'll read won't be a Star Wars book (but a book lended to me by a friend so I have to finished it to give it back).

With the hot days slowly returning I have hope to read more seriously in the times to come, because one thing I enjoy is reading in the sun, but as always I won't make any promises I can't keep. I still have to write some reviews for old books I've read (Dark disciple, Wrath of Darth Maul, Ahsoka...) and still got new books to read (including Bloodline), but they will come in time.

As always, take care of yourself, of your surroundings, and enjoy :) Tagging @maulpunk !

[wildmichaelflower]

HI RAYE ❤️ my first request is from your prompt list is - “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away.” With Calum please 🥺 Sending you many hugs, gay!sos buddy 💕

Sorry for getting to this four months later!!!

5.  “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away.”

Word Count: 2,190 words

Content Warnings: Calum Angst (With happy ending), Unplanned pregnancy, Breakup over text, Crying

 Calum never understood why you had chosen to broke up with him, especially over text, and especially when you two were engaged to be married in a year. In his mind, everything was perfect, until he was getting off rehearsal and the message from you knocked the wind out of him.

‘Calum, I’m leaving. I’m sorry, but I’ve decided that this isn’t what I want. I’m leaving tonight, I made sure your neighbor can take care of Duke until you get home, but by the time you read this I’ll be moved out of your home. I left my key, and the ring, on the table. Don’t call me, this number will be disconnected shortly after I send this. I wish you the best in tour and I hope you find someone who knows how lucky they are to love you.’

He blinked back tears as he struggled to comprehend the message, rereading it again and again, hoping the words would change to your usual ‘i love and miss you’ text he was used to getting. He immediately called you. hoping this was some joke you were pulling.

“I’m sorry,” the automated message greeted him, “The number you are trying to reach has been disconne-” Calum didn’t let it finish, he didn’t want to confirmation to hit, and he definitely didn’t want a robot to apologize to him. 

Instead, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Hey mate,” Ashton gently slapped a hand onto his shoulder and whispered, “Everything alright?”

Calum shook his head, finally letting the tears fall and sobs emit. Wide eyed, Ashton pulled his best friend into a hug, biting his lip as Michael and Luke hurried over.

“Th-they’re leaving,” Calum cried, “They disconnected they’re n-number and left me. They don’t love me anymore.”

The boys did their best to comfort their friend through his endless sobs. 

“Should we cancel tonight?” Luke whispered but Calum shook his head, pulling his head away from Ashton’s chest.

“No,” he wiped his sleeve across his eyes, “No, the show still goes on. I just need to take these next few hours to process this.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to hold in the tears.

The boys nodded, giving him one more hug before giving him space. Calum tried to get a hold of everyone who would know where you would be, but no one seemed to have an answer for him, and he couldn’t bear to tell them that you broke up with him over text so he just said he’ll try again later. 

The concert was hell, Calum knew he played like shit, but the only thing that made him give a damn was that he let the fans down. As expected, stan twitter was buzzing about his performance, many wondering what had happened to the bassist. That alone was enough to not want Calum to be on the site, that, and the fact that your name would be dragged into it, and it wouldn’t take long for fans to realize you deleted your social media presence. Instead, he chose to head right to the bus, drink a couple beers, try your number one last time before getting the same damn automated apology, before settling into his bunk and sobbing himself to sleep. 

The boys hated seeing him like this, they had thought you were meant to be his for life, and they were just as shocked as him to hear of you leaving. When they were sure their heartbroken friend was asleep, they took their own turns trying to contact you, but they reached the same results as Calum. 

The next morning, Calum woke up to a phone call, and he too eagerly sat up, hoping it was you and the whole thing had been a nightmare, but his face fell when the caller ID said Management.

“Hello?” The bassisst grumbled into the phone.

“Hey Cal,” the sympathetic tone of one of their managers, Linda, greeted him, “I heard about what happened last night, and I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it, but in the next few days you will have to make a public statement if you are still engaged with-”

“Yeah, I know,” he cut her off, not ready to hear your name, not this soon, “I’ll post something on twitter, just give me some time to prepare.” 

“OK dear,” Calum could hear her small smile in her tone as she used to pet name she gave to all the boys, “I’ll let the team know, and if we need to cancel, just let us know OK?”

Calum took a deep breath, “Yeah, but we’re so close to finishing. I wanna power through it and go see Duke and get used to being in the house without [Y/N].”

“OK.. Just let us know, alright? We’re all here for you.”

Yeah, but I want her, Calum thought sadily to himself before responding, “Thanks Linda, I really appreciate it, you’re the best.”

He let Linda say her goodbyes before she hung up, and the rest of the tour was a blur to Calum. He kept the same pattern of getting up, going through his day, going to concerts, going to bed. The last two weeks of tour passed and before he knew it, Ashton was driving him to his Los Angeles home. Calum said nothing the whole way there, and Ashton knew this was going to be hard. 

“Listen man, if you want, I can grab Duke and some of his things and have you stay with me,” Ashton glanced at his friend in the seat next to him, biting his lip as Calum shook his head.

“No, part of moving on is getting used to what’s gone. I’ll call you if I need company though, I promise.”

The older man sighed but nodded, knowing Calum had to get through this in his own way if he was going to get through it all, but he walked him to the door and gave him one more hug before going back to his car.

With a deep breath, Calum unlocked the door and teared up at the sounds of Duke running to greet him.

“Hey bud,” he smiled as he sunk to his knees to pet his furry son, letting him lick all over his hands and face, “I missed you too.”

Duke barked happily and headed into the kitchen where his food and water awaited him. Calum followed, noticing the note on the counter from his neighbor. 

Hey Cal! I was last here around noon to let Duke out and I plan to be back around 4 in case you wanted to rest. If you are back before then, just shoot me a text so I know not to come over. I know you don’t wanna talk about [Y/N] so I didn’t say anything when you were on tour, but I hid her ring in the drawer with the bills. Also, and please don’t think I was being weird, I took out the trash when I first came over to take Duke out and noticed a pregnancy test in one of the trash bins.  [Y/N] knows now I know, but I knew you also deserved to know, you know? There’s something else I need to tell you, so when I come back at 4 I’ll tell you then.

Calum felt shock after shock as he read the letter. You were pregnant? Is that why you left? And what did the neighbor have to tell him that they couldn’t write in the note? He checked the time on his watch, seeing it was almost 3:30. He could go over and knock now, get the anticipation over with, but he remembered his neighbor car wasn’t in their driveway when Ashton dropped him off, so he settled on taking a quick shower and making a snack. He was grateful he knew what drawer not to open, the ring had too many memories he had spent the last two weeks getting over. 

It was 4:10 when he heard a knock on his door, and Calum hurried to leave his pizza rolls on the counter before rushing to the door, biting his lip when he saw his neighbor.

“Hey. Rian right? Thanks again for watching Duke while I was away... I could take him on his walk, but I did want to talk about the note you left.”

“Yeah, that..” Rian bit their lip, “So you know she was pregnant, but she left me her new number in case anything happened to Duke while you were still on tour, and her new address to send her letters too.. I talked to her before writing the note, and, while it took time, I convinced her that she had to be honest with you, in person, and she gave me permission to give you her address, if you still wanted to talk to her.”

Calum gasped, nodding, but trying to process the words. He thought he had lost you forever, and he still might have, but to get to see you again and know why everything had happened. He deserved that, and he knew that, no matter what happened at the end of the night. 

Rian wrote the address down and set it in his hand, “No matter what happens, I hope you both get the closure you need,” they smiled weakly, gave Duke some small pats, before leaving. 

The pizza rolls now abandoned, Calum grabbed Duke’s leash and his phone, quickly typing the address into the GPS before walking out with the small dog to the car. 

The Maori man had a tight grip on the steering wheel, driving past familiar sights as the map took him to an apartment complex close to where you lived when you two first met. 

He parked on the street then grabbed Duke’s leash before getting out. Taking a deep breath, he looked for your apartment number before knocking.

“Coming!” Your familiar voice rang through the opposite side of the door and Calum couldn’t believe this was actually happening. After weeks of agony, he was going to see you again.

You checked the peephole, biting your lip when you saw the man you called your fiance, still the handsomest man you have ever seen, standing with your furry son. Slowly, you opened the door, doing your best to give a small smile.

“Calum,” you greeted, “Hello..”

“Ba- [Y/N]. I know, about the baby, and I’m sure that’s why you left huh.”

Tearing up was already more than enough to confirm his suspicions, but he let you explain yourself.

“I’m sorry,” You sniffed, “I knew you would be a great dad, but I was so scared in the moment that I was going to ruin your career and your fans would hate me that I made you leave the band to raise a baby that was unplanned so I left and I had hoped that things would be fine but they’re not fine, because I hated myself for what I did to you and to me, and to our child. I’m not asking you to forgive me, the fact that you came to let me explain myself is enough.” You sobbed and placed an instinctive hand on your stomach as you waited for him to say something. 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm Duke, who was riled up by your tears, before whispering,

“My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away.”

You sobbed but nodded at his words, “Which one will you listen to?”

He bit his lip, “The same one that told me to drop out of high school to form a band with my best friends,” he smiled softly as he stepped inside and he watched as you stepped back, not in fear but to let him in, “The same one that told me ask you out in that bar we met all those years ago, the same one that told me to come here, even after I thought everything was thrown away.” He gently wiped the tears from your cheeks as Duke settled at your feet and as he leaned in he whispered, “The same heart that knew it would never stop loving you.” He pressed his lips to yours gently, not fighting the smile as you returned the kiss with the same passion. 

“You, me, and little one now.” you sniffed and smiled, “No more separating, no more heartache.”

He nodded in agreement, “No more walking away,” he smiled, “Only kissing.” He pecked his lips to yours one more time before sinking to his knees and whispering to your stomach, “Hey baby, it’s daddy.” He looked up as he heard you sob again, but returned the smile you gave as you assured him they were happy tears and he gave gentle kisses to your tummy.

“Only kisses,” he mumbled into your skin, sealing the promise with a small peck to your belly button before looking up with his own happy tears. 

[missmaxime]

4, 20, 22! :-)

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like) Okay, so I answered an ask before that I don’t feel that confident writing Annie. Personality wise she’s not one of my favorite characters, and she’s a little more unrelatable than a lot of the others. And then I got mad at myself that I felt that way and figured out a way in which I think I could write her and enjoy it. (Yes, @sothischickshe this is part of why I need you, haha) Here’s an excerpt from my draft of the Modern Arranged Marriage AU where Annie takes on a new job: Truth to be told, when Annie just started this job she hated her life to the point of willingly riding herself under a bus. Thankfully, that now just happens many times by accident, followed by Annie scolding the driver and flipping her finger. She had passed her GED – Yay! – but now that she had been approved to start her EMT course in a few months, Ben had pointed out something she really didn’t want to hear. Namely that her work-out schedule should probably be a little more intense than walking from the couch to the kitchen to get a bag of Cheeto’s. And, first of all, those Cheeto’s didn’t magically appear in her cabinet. She had to walk to the damn car, go the store, walk again – carrying more than just Cheeto’s! – and get back home. So it was at least 300% more intense than just getting the bag, thank you very much. But after being sour about it for a day or two she knew she had to admit he had a point. And she didn’t think car crash victims would very much appreciate Annie sucking the oxygen mask dry before tending to their wounds. Gym memberships are a rip off though. She’s not going pay money to get stuck in a sad building with too many mirrors and sweaty machines. Besides, she knows herself well enough that she’ll probably end up dragging some hottie home and ruining her whole gym experience. Nope! None of that. But then she had a brilliant thought. What if she doesn’t pay to work out, but she would get paid to do that! What an Einstein move! (Which she was told by Ben that it makes no sense, but really, who uses that correctly in context anyway?). It doesn’t take that much to find some fitting jobs. Problem is that she needs a bike for those and she’s not going to save up 18 months of Cheeto-money to get one. So she steals Dean’s bike that he has used exactly one time and then abandoned it in the garage complaining about its faulty design, even though the only faulty design in this equation is his dumbass personality.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?) I think there’s this one thing that happens a lot, because I’m not a native English speaker, and that’s that I sometimes don’t know the word or sentence structure to explain something and I end up writing some newly invented analogy, or just write around the point at all, but in a way that I end up liking that better than after I looked up the actual word or saying or whatever. Another thing I do a lot, because I write pretty plotty WIPs, is throw in a lot of hints and potential plot points in the first two chapters (and I also scatter them in later chapters, but less frequent) that I could potentially circle back to. When I put them in I have at best a vague idea of where that’s going, but eventually I think I use all of it? We’ll see when I finish one of them haha. Okay, and so last thing I can think of is that I love, love a lot of frowned upon media (from an intellectual standpoint). Like I can never have a debate in real life about how well balanced Legally Blonde is, because ‘ugh comedy’, but that’s a damn masterpiece, one of my favorite movies of all time. I like my fics to have this counterbalance between fast-paced comedy, snappy smart dialogue  and deep universal issues – not necessarily all the time, but I do like to infuse my work with it.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them? I do read my GG WIPs back a lot, also for new chapter purposes. I’ve read Wild at Heart back to back recently and while I do like the first chapter in terms of plot and dialogue, I’d rephrase some of the character actions, and only because I think there’s too many new lines starting with he-she-Beth-Rio, not because I don’t like the story. When I look at Technicolors I see a lot more variety in that, and I really like that better as a reader. As for OLD OLD work, I mean I’ve been writing fanfic on and off since like, 2002 on message boards. I just visited my ancient fanfiction.net account and I was pleasantly surprised by myself haha. But I do notice a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes, but the plot-driven WIPs were already there, I’ve just gotten a lot better at them. I abandoned some of them, and I know now that’s because I over-plotted them before I wrote them – not falling for that deathtrap again. I wrote one in 2006, and I just saw that I had a review from 2015 telling me they would’ve loved to have read the whole story and I’m now here like ghuuhhhhhghg.

[pens-swords-stuff]

I feel like I should remind everyone that I actually write sometimes too — shocking, I know. So here’s a thing I wrote a long time ago, just to pretend that I’m a real Writeblr for a bit.

If there ever was a reason to be grateful, it was that Blake lives in a time where coffee and other sources of caffeine are readily available. Although it was just before 9 o'clock in the morning, she was already half-way through her second mug and a small tower of used creamers were stacked unevenly at the corner of her desk. Damn those early morning meetings; was it really necessary to gather everyone under the age of twenty-five early in the morning to discuss the implications of retweets? The Capital was full of old, decrepit people who would still use fax machines if they could. At this point, Blake was sure she was spending more time teaching her superiors how to use computers instead of her actual job.

And they said that the life of a journalist wasn't glamourous.

Her desk was full of unfinished drafts, photographs, and other piles of papers stacked haphazardly over every inch of the surface. With a sigh, Blake just piled the existing piles on top of each other to create a precarious mountain of paper to clear out some space. It was organized chaos at its finest — her desk may be a mess, but she knew where everything was... Or at least she hoped.

With a heavy sigh and tapping fingers fueled by coffee jitters, Blake impatiently waited for her computer to load web pages. Fingers automatically typed up ‘twitter.com’ into the address bar, but she thought better of it and quickly hit backspace. After lecturing a sixty-year old crusty, balding man on how to navigate the 'tweeter-sphere', she really wasn't in the mood to revisit the social media site and its apparently impossible-to-use interface.

When she logged into her email account, it was no surprise that hundreds of unread emails were blinking on the browser. 317 emails to be exact, the red bubble notification on her phone had been mocking her for days now. Wearily, Blake started clicking and manually sorting through useful emails and trash that didn't even need to be read. Passive-aggressive work memos from loud coworkers (shut up Patricia, no one cares about your lunch), junk mail (there's a sale going on in a nearby department store apparently), and death threats (only 12 emails, significantly less than yesterday) were among the ones immediately deleted without even opening.

Several rapid clicks later, her inbox was emptied of all unnecessary emails, and she could focus on what actually mattered — once she sorted through all of the false leads, that is. Days ago, Blake had published a request for the Other to contact her if they wanted their stories heard. It was a good idea in theory to gather information and first-hand accounts, but she really, really should've seen the amount of humans pretending to be the Other coming. Internet anonymity was a bitch, and a lot of trolls, people that were obsessed with the Other and bored humans who had way too much time on their hands were claiming to be special.

Somehow, Blake sincerely doubted that a real vampire or werewolf would throw in blatant Twilight or Vampire Diaries references into these emails. Just a hunch. On the off chance that they were truly what they said they were, it wasn't the type of person (could they still be called a person?) she wanted to write about. Now that article would immediately become the laughing stock of the internet. Blake's mouse hovered over the trash can icon for a long second as she fought the urge to delete the lot of them. Duty won out, just in case she was deleting important information. The things she would do for a story...

There was one email in particular however, that seemed more genuine for whatever reason. Call it journalist's intuition, or just a lack of modern (if slightly outdated) pop culture references.

Dear B. Preston, Apologies for the throwaway email address – I don’t like paper trails. I saw your call for stories from the Other in The Capital, and after serious deliberation, I have decided to express my own interest in the project. I am a vampire of not insignificant experience who would be willing to answer any questions you might have, from my condition in general to my personal history, so long as the result is anonymised. As this is uncharted territory for the both of us, and perhaps even both our kinds, I am an unsure as to whether the best medium would be in writing or an in-person interview. Whichever option you would feel more comfortable with. Obviously, dining with the stuff of nightmares isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Looking forward to your reply. Sincerely, Someone who would rather not sign his name in writing.

Blake leaned back into her office chair as she read and reread that email, thoughtfully chewing off the lipstick she had hastily smeared on so that she could claim that she cared about appearances. It was impossible to gleam whether this email rang true or not, but there was something different about this one that felt like it was worth following up on — at least the throwaway email wasn't something like totallyabloodsucker69 that she saw about three emails prior.

After quickly doing her carpal tunnel prevention hand stretches, Blake wrote out a long reply, then went back and deleted an entire unnecessary paragraph and several other snarky comments that had just slipped out. She was a professional, and should probably act as such. No need to scare off a potential vampire contact — as silly as that sounds.

Dear someone who would rather not sign their name in writing, Thank you for your response, your willingness to share your story to the public is greatly appreciated. I can promise it will be put to good use. An in-person interview probably would work best, if only to be able to say that I've confirmed that you're a vampire in person. It's far too easy for people to pretend to be something they're not online — there's simply not enough credibility over the internet. I conduct a lot of interviews over at The Daily Grind for the casual atmosphere, but I'm open to any alternatives you have in mind. I've attached my schedule to this email, let me know when you're available. And finally as a formality — and I honestly have no idea what I'm looking for — is there any way you can send me proof of your claim? As mentioned before, there are far too many people pretending to be anything other than human. Regards, Blake Preston.

Perhaps only a split-second after she hit send, a roar of "Preston, turn the radio on now!" was shouted at her from behind. Blake spun around in her chair in alarm, staring at Jones who just barged through the door with wild, panicked eyes.

"What are you——"

"Do it! Now!"

Jones didn't even give Blake another moment to respond as he flew forward to fiddle the radio to the right broadcast, not bothering to wait for the shocked journalist to catch up to his intensity. Precious few seconds were evidently lost as Jones' fumbling fingers finally managed to push the right set of buttons. Blake actually listened to On the Edge radio quite often, but an unfamiliar voice flowed through the speakers.

Think of the teenagers lost during Nick Bloodfang’s rampage: three young girls, on their way home from a party on the wrong night of the lunar cycle, left for dead. That is only the tip of the iceberg...

Though she didn't quite understand what was going on yet, Blake turned on the recording function of her phone after seeing Jones frantically gesticulated to her. Blake's brows were knit in confusion as she listened to the broadcast. Something wasn't right, something didn't feel right.

Blake's jaw dropped along with her stomach as the 'segment' ended with a human call for action. It was pathos at its finest, playing up on the fear that she knew swept throughout the humans when the Other first came to light a month or so ago. Even though the current position of most people was uncertain, tension and fear grated roughly on most humans that she knew. Jones and Blake shared a slack-jawed stare of disbelief.

This was hate speech, inciting people to violent acts because they painted the Other as mere criminals with no other purpose besides murdering innocent people.

By the time Louise's voice came back on the air, Blake snapped out of her stupor to open a brand new word document on her computer. Although the highjack had ended only seconds before, she was already replaying it on her phone as her fingers flew over the keyboard, transcribing it to the best of her ability. "I can't believe I missed the bloody beginning. Colin, did you get——"

Blake's fingers kept moving as she glanced over to her partner's desk, suspiciously empty and untouched since yesterday.

"Where the hell is Colin!?"

[herotheshiro]

ok i just caught up on the happenings of even if you don’t love me and hooooo-eee bc i am actually quite excited for the manhwa’s return in feb now. if you want to read my thoughts on the story prior to like ch 40ish on, it’s here ... i’m not reblogging it for my thoughts here today bc that post is so long even w a read more and i expect this post to be on the longer side

but ok, first off, i did NOT realize there was a fucking time skip... i knew jiwook left school and his apartment, but i thought their next meeting after that was them still the same age as before... i was looking at the korean version so that’s one reason but also usually stories do a visual version of “du-du-du-du-du, X years later” but the author didn’t here, instead they had the characters verbally be like ‘oh the last time we met was 4 years ago’... which i actually like bc it feels more realistic. also that pic of the white shiba makes more sense bc i suspected time had passed but literal years makes more sense than like the maybe weeks-months i thought before

but anyway i’m surprised i predicted the plot point abt seungeon agreeing to be part of his family’s company in exchange for the loan money but i mean if you looked back on the beginning of the story you’d know (bc the last time i wrote about this manhwa, the latest ch had just ended w seungeon barging in to his sister’s office so you knew shit was abt to go down bw them even if i didn’t know what abt exactly). obviously this doesn’t excuse seungeon’s later behavior, but i can understand why he’s so pissed at jiwook during their reunion bc he basically gave up his life for a family who doesn’t care for him FOR jiwook but then jiwook left so now he’s just doing this shit for nothing.

and man reading jiwook’s thoughts abt how he wants seungeon to hate him so they won’t meet again (also title reference/explanation... i’m emo) ... and then it’s implied that he prob still holds a flame for seungeon even 4 years later (when he hesitated to hit him even tho he had good reason to bc he knew seungeon doesn’t like it.... it’s sad bc you should really have stopped liking him esp after he raped you, but also bro.....)... EDIT: ok nm i went back and actually reread the time jiwook was thinking back on and i think he hesitated to hit him more so bc he was afraid of a potentially violent response. bc i forgot seungeon hit him back in that scene :/ but i mean i still get the vibe that jiwook hasn’t fully gotten over his feelings for him or it’s complicated rather than complete dislike/apathy

second, i went back and read through some old chapters again and i actually did not remember/read (lol? i’ve mostly “read” this manhwa in parts rather than like all at once bc some of the shit that happens is kinda fucked up so i don’t wanna read it lol) that seungeon actually doesn’t really have any part in the succession of the company he was born into which i thought he did before... which is important info and reasoning as to why he clings so hard to jiwook. obviously it was fucked up when he tried to use his sad backstory to get jiwook to stay w him out of pity but i was like damn he truly is so emotionally messed up that he’s like i NEED jiwook’s love..... i also re-read the aftermath of blondie (i still can’t remember his name lmao) killing the idol’s manager which 1. made me learn again the whole drama bw him and seungeon is mainly abt their statuses which i literally never commit to memory bc i don’t care abt blondie at all and 2. confirmed that he had jiwook’s dad killed. i mean even looking at the korean version the dad’s death felt suspicious PLUS jiwook’s accusation in the first few pages of ch 1 but then when blondie was like ‘lmao time to fuck up their relationship’ i was like damn... so he knew abt the dad’s debt and predicted how the need for a fuckton of money would mess up their relationship. idr what i thought before bc the ch 1 stuff makes it seem like seungeon was the one to kill jiwook’s dad and i don’t think i had reread the manager murder aftermath in my last post but looks like it’s just jiwook’s misunderstanding (maybe even blondie insinuating that lol)

anyway i’m excited for season 2 fr now after getting all this info. so w a timeskip of 4 years, that means that blondie will prob be returning to korea again soon, and just in time to keep throwing wrenches into the relationship bw seungeon and jiwook as i provided an example of above lol. and obviously the idol’s role in the story isn’t over, i’m fully expecting him to return and try to blackmail blondie for hurting him both physically and emotionally and i’m looking forward to it lol. i mean yes this manhwa is kinda stressful to read bc i’m like i know y’all are just fresh out of schooling at this point and have a lot of feelings abt your relationship(s) but can we please learn to be emotionally healthy and communicate for once BUT i am looking forward to the journey! slash looking forward to the next time we can have jiwook and seungeon smile at each other genuinely which i hope will actually happen in s2 bc idk if i can handle an entire season of them at each other’s throats the entire time on top of other forces putting pressure on them