#I went to write this 4 hours ago and got distracted

[yesterdayiwrote]

No, the fits are fine, but what the actual fuck is the deal with the photo retouching in those merc pictures? They've done them both dirty?!

[junixscribble]

The Holiday Spirit

I was seized by the spirit of creation and held by the throat till I wrote this. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays I guess! (thanks to the tk server for the fuel!)

Title: The Holiday Spirit

WC: 1621w

Summary: Viktor is stubbornly refusing to get into the Snowdown spirit and leave his work alone for an evening. Jayce uses the only method he knows of to get him to chill, only to realise this deal goes both ways.

-------

Piltover had grown cold with the change of seasons, and with it came a healthy dose of cheer tinged with worry for Jayce. The first snowfall on the city made him anxious and sent him back to the swirling blizzard he had been trapped in before the mage appeared to save him and his mother. It was manageable, but storms left him on edge more often than not. 

Thankfully, Snowdown was a welcome distraction. Houses were lit with warm hues and decor was slung over trees and buildings in the city, so Jayce could find as much business as he wanted in the decoration of his own home. The fire roared in the fireplace, filling the small apartment with heat and light while Jayce stood atop a cobbled together ladder and hung bunting on the window frame. A record blasted holiday tunes to fill the silence and Jayce was happy with his progress.

His peace was interrupted when the door was flung open by an appropriately disgruntled and cold Viktor, shopping bag in one hand and crutch in the other.

“It is fucking shitty out there.” He stated, chucking the bag on the counter and shutting the door before starting to take off a multitude of layers. “My crutch was slipping all over the ground and frankly I’m offended that I left the house at all.”

“Vik, you insisted you’d be fine to pick up the groceries.” Jayce said, coming down off the ladder with a grin. Viktor glared at him.

“Well Viktor from an hour ago was an imbecile and should not have been trusted.”

“You threatened to smack me with your cane if I went instead.” 

“As I said. Imbecile. Now why are you hanging fabric from the roof?” Viktor asked, head tilted.

Jayce shrugged. “It’s Snowdown. Bunting is nice!”

“Ah, yes. Consumerism central masked as a fun holiday.” 

That earned Viktor a long enduring sigh from Jayce. “Vik, you’ve gotta make fun for yourself somehow.”

Viktor hummed and started putting away the groceries, examining the apartment as he did so. “It certainly looks… festive.” 

“That’s the point! Oh, I’ve actually got something for you.” Jayce ran out into the bedroom and came out with a maroon sweater with white snowflakes embroidered on.

“This is for you!” 

Viktor took it from his hands, feeling the fabric over. “This is a holiday sweater, no?”

Jayce nodded, a proud smile on his face. Viktor couldn’t say no to him like that - and from what he could tell the sweater was very well made. 

Viktor took off his cardigan and pulled on the sweater to find it offensively soft and warm. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it before starting again. 

“I was going to say something witty and perhaps a little insulting, but this is… comfortable. Thank you, Jayce.”

“My mother made it. You should have seen the ones she made when she was starting out - they were as wonky as they come. She’s gotten quite good at it though.” 

“Tell her I appreciate it.” Viktor said with a smile, and then pulled out a thick tome filled with taped in notes. He opened it on the table, brought out a pencil, and started puzzling over an equation. 

Jayce huffed. “Seriously, Vik? We’re like 4 days out from the holidays, surely you can stand not to bring work home with you.”

“Progress waits for no one. Least of all a man-made excuse for avarice.” 

“Viktoooor, come ooooon!” Jayce wheedled. “We’ve both been working since the sun rose. We can go back tomorrow.” 

Viktor kept writing, lost in his own head. Jayce sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Well if you’re not going to get into the Snowdown spirit yourself, I’m gonna have to make you.”

It took a minute for Viktor to process the sentence and by the time he realised and tried to scramble out of his chair Jayce was almost on top of him. He braced himself for the awful feeling of fingers on his sides but when the attack came all he felt was the movement of fabric. Viktor stood in shock for a minute before looking at Jayce’s face and barking out a laugh.

“Ha! The sweater is too thick for you! Suck on thahahAT FUHUCK OFF!” 

Jayce had sent his hands under Viktor’s jumper in the middle of his sentence and that crawling feeling Viktor had been anticipating was now directly over his sides. 

“By Janna, how many layers are you wearing, Vik? I’m surprised you’re feeling this at all!” Jayce teased, genuinely amused at how much Viktor was twitching at him tickling through what felt like six layers of fabric. 

“Yohou are a cruel and unjuhust pahartner!” 

“Eh, no I’m not. If you’re that resistant about getting into the holiday spirit, then I think you need more convincing.” Jayce pulled his hands down from Viktor’s sides and found the top layer of fabric, slipping back under it and scuttling up to spider under his arms now. Viktor’s arms pinned to his sides and he hunched his shoulders up, leaning into Jayce’s chest as he laughed. 

“Coal! Coahal and beetles are all you are getting thihis year!”

 “That doesn’t sound all that cheerful to me. Do you need another layer?” Jayce cocked his head and smiled when Viktor buried his face in his neck. 

“Nohoho! Let me go!”

Instead of answering Jayce pulled his hands out again and stuck them under another layer, this time scribbling all over his stomach. He could feel that there weren’t many layers left, and by the looks of Viktor immediately trying to pull his hands away he could feel it too. 

“Jahahayce! You’re a fuhucking fiend and I am going to put snohow in your pajamas-”

“That’s it.” 

Jayce pulled out all the stops and slid his hands under the final layer of fabric, squeezing Viktor’s hips before scrabbling towards his upper ribs, completely unprotected by his brace. In one motion Viktor threw his head back and cackled while losing his footing and dropping to the floor. Jayce took a second to break his fall before going right back to drawing spirals over his ribs. This kind of tickling wasn’t as intense, but Viktor was still squirming around like a fish out of water under him. 

All Viktor did in response to Jayce’s raised, questioning eyebrows was stick out his tongue, so Jayce kneaded and wiggled his fingers between the bones of his ribs. Viktor shrieked and started swearing in Czech, hurling out several that Jayce recognised. As punishment he pulled one hand off his ribs and set it on his tummy, squeezing and spidering over the skin. 

“Are you cheered up now? In the Snowdown spirit?” Jayce asked. Viktor glared through his giggles and Jayce shrugged.

“Guess I’m pulling out the raspberries. Come on, let me at your belly.” 

“NO!” Viktor yelled and in a burst of energy rolled to the side and away from Jayce, ending up face down and protecting himself. “Keep your evil beard away from my fucking stomach!” 

Jayce laughed and sat back, giving up the game. “The beard tickles that badly, does it?” 

Viktor flushed and sat up with his arms firmly around his middle. “What the hell do you think?” 

“I’ll be sure to keep it then.”

Viktor sputtered through some words before standing with the help of the couch. Jayce handed his crutch back to him which he accepted before moving to the kitchen. 

“Get your round ass in here and cook.” 

…

A few hours later Jayce was snug on the couch with a book while Viktor was in the shower. All was well until a high pitched yelp rang out and Jayce jumped to his feet, sprinting to the door.

“Viktor, are you alright?” 

The shower cut off and was followed with some select insults at the plumbing before a reply was heard. 

“The water turned fucking ice cold! Again!” 

Jayce winced. “The wind must have blown the boiler. I’ll fix it.”

It only took five minutes for Jayce to reset the boiler and by the time it was done Viktor was dressed in warm pajamas. Despite the heavy fabric, he was shivering. Jayce stood and closed the closet door, gesturing over to the couch so they could sit down. The two of them curled up together, Viktor leaning into Jayce’s side with his eyes closed. They sat like that, content for a while, until Viktor grumbled and started pulling at Jayce’s sweater. 

“Let me in.” Viktor said, quite literally trying to crawl into the jumper with Jayce. Jayce would have been fine with this if Viktor’s hands weren’t the same temperature as an ice cube. He jumped at the contact, squirming away with half a yelp. 

Viktor was of brilliant, sharp mind, and it didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. He slid his hands further up Jayce’s deliciously warm sides and grinned at the resulting laugh. 

“My hands are cold. I think you can help with this.” Viktor said, and that was all the warning Jayce got before freezing cold, nimble fingers were crawling all over his torso. He pressed into the back of the couch, snickering and trying to take it but all it took was Viktor kneading his belly for him to break into full laughter. Viktor perked up at the sound and a dangerous glint caught his eyes.

“I wonder if you can take raspberries as well as you dish them out?” 

Jayce had less than a second to protest before Viktor pressed his lips to his stomach and sent him into a laughing fit like no other. There was no doubt about it - Jayce was completely and utterly done for. 

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 5)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 4k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

To celebrate a week of sobriety, you decide to surprise Derek with a cake.

Of course, since there isn't exactly a bakery on a remote island, you had to bake it yourself.

Which you did. Last night. Now you stand in the kitchen, wondering how exactly you should decorate the damn thing.

And what to write on it?

"Congrats, maybe now you'll live past 40!" No, that's morbid.

"Bye-bye blunts and blow!" Too cringy.

"Happy one-week?" Hmm... that sounds like an anniversary thing.

Damnit. Maybe this isn't a situation that calls for cake after all. You sigh and continue to mumble random slogans to yourself as you slather the icing on nice and thick.

It looks a little messy, but you're not exactly a professional baker. Which is unfortunate, because that's probably exactly what he's used to. Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?

You just want to show him how proud you are. He really has changed a lot over the past week, surprising you every day with how... normal he can be. When he wants to, at least.

Picking up a piping bag of green icing, you start placing decorative dollops around the edge of the cake. Some of them are a little lopsided, but it doesn't look too bad overall.

What now? You mindlessly lick some stray icing off your wrist and stare down at the gaping blank space in the middle of the cake.

Eventually, you settle on three words.

"Proud of you."

It's fitting. He has a lot to be proud of. Not just the sobriety stuff, but everything.

He's been picking up new skills every day. You smile as you tidy up the cake decorating mess strewn about the counter, thinking back to your first time cooking with Derek.

He'd been cocky and overconfident, and so utterly dumbfounded when that pancake met a splatter-y death on the stovetop.

And yet, he still got back up and tried again. After relentless pestering from you, obviously, but it still counted.

You stand back and survey your work. Cream colored icing, green lettering, and... okay, maybe the hearts were a bit much. Hopefully he didn't get the wrong idea. You're just... proud. That's all.

Now the only thing missing is Derek. He went upstairs an hour or so ago for a nap, mumbling something about a headache. Poor thing.

He's been so damn clingy lately, always touching you in some way or another. It seemed almost subconscious for him at times. A hand on your shoulder, his knee against yours, an arm around your waist... no matter what you were doing, he had to have physical contact.

You smile as you make your way upstairs to his room. Maybe today would be the day you finally give him a proper hug.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek is woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of you calling out his name.

Usually, that would be a welcome sound. You're always such a good distraction from his withdrawals.

But right now? He just wants to sleep. No, more than that. He wants to hibernate, to go into a goddamn coma and never have to wake up again.

"Can I have another twenty minutes?" He croaks, lifting his head from the mess of pillows to call out to you.

Apparently he can't, because he hears the door click open, and you peek your head in through the crack.

Derek just groans and buries his face back into the bed. His sheets and blankets are a tangled mess, and he's twisted himself into an awkward angle throughout his nap.

"Come on, It's been over an hour already." Derek can feel the bed shift as you take a seat on the edge.

"Well I'm still fuckin' exhausted." He mumbles into the pillow, not bothering to turn and look at you.

"Derek. You should know by now I'm not gonna let you rot in bed all day."

The almost sarcastic tone in your voice is what finally breaks him. This week has been hell, and you're just mocking him.

He hasn't only given up drugs this week, but all of his servants and staff as well. It was one thing to help you with cooking, but yesterday you'd made him do laundry. LAUNDRY. What the fuck did he look like? A maid?

"Fuck off." He grumbles a little louder, pushing your hand away as you reach to play with his hair.

His sour attitude apparently doesn't deter you any, because he can hear you laughing at him. Derek grits his teeth and finally sits up, glaring at you.

"You're really fucking annoying, you know that? Always pissing me off."

The words leave his mouth before he can really think them through, and when he sees your smile fall he immediately regrets them.

Unfortunately, he's too tired, sick, and stubborn to take it all back. Even while his heart drops into his stomach, he continues to glare daggers at you.

"Alright... twenty more minutes." With that, you slide off his bed and quickly make your way to the door.

Fuck. As soon as the door closes, Derek is left in darkness, in more ways than one.

His stomach twists into knots and he can feel his chest grow heavy. He tries to scramble after you, but gets caught in the tangle of blankets and ends up falling to the floor instead.

God damn it. Why does he always have to be such a fuck up? You aren't annoying. You're the only thing keeping him sane right now, and he goes and pushes you away.

He collapses on the floor, sighing at the feeling of the cold hardwood against his cheek. A few tears roll down his face, and he laughs bitterly as a thought crosses his mind.

Your thighs make a much better pillow than the floor.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Twenty minutes later, you knock at Derek's door once more. He mumbles something incomprehensible, and you take that as permission to enter.

The sight in front of you makes you pause. What the hell is he doing? You flip the lights on just to make sure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you.

They aren't.

Derek Danforth lies on the floor next to his bed, groaning and blinking up at the harsh overhead light.

"Looks real comfortable down there." You tease, setting the glass of water you brought him on his bedside table before joining him on the floor.

He refuses to look at you, throwing his arm over his eyes and groaning.

"You need to eat. And drink. I brought you some water."

Derek stays quiet as you sit next to him and place a hand on his shoulder. His lips are pressed into a tight line, and he's still hiding behind his arm.

"Why are you so goddamn nice?" He finally groans.

"We've already had that talk."

"Okay, then why are you so goddamn nice even when I'm being a prick?"

You move his arm away from his face, and he doesn't fight it. When you finally get a look at him, it's obvious he's been crying.

Derek Danforth. Crying on his bedroom floor. That's a sight.

A sight that really breaks your heart, actually. His watery eyes threaten to make yours overflow as well, so you quickly wipe away his tears with the hem of your shirt.

"You think I expect you to go through three weeks of rehab and not be a prick sometimes?"

Derek actually chuckles at that, and finally meets your gaze. He looks absolutely wrecked.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know."

You scoot a little closer, and gently tug at him. He takes the hint, placing his head on your lap with his cheek against your thigh.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes. He just closes his eyes and sighs as you play with his hair. Over the past week, you've learned what he likes. Tug at his curls in just the right way, and he...

Derek lets out a soft whimper and you smile. There it is.

"Wanna make it up to me?" You tease.

He glances up at you, an eager look in his eyes.

"How?"

"Get rid of this." You laugh and trail a finger along his jawline, feeling at his overgrown stubble. He most likely hasn't shaved since arriving here a week ago.

"What? You don't like it?"

"Do you?"

"..."

Derek pouts, pushing your hand away and feeling at it himself. His brow furrows adorably as he considers your words.

"It looks manly."

"There's a difference between manly and cave-man-ly."

He scoffs at that, but when you start poking and prodding at his face where his stubble has grown out, he cracks a smile.

"Fine, fine. You win. I'll shave."

He swats your intrusive hands away, then sits up and stretches.

Now that he's up and moving, you decide it's time to go. On your way out the door, you hesitate, remembering the reason you came to get him in the first place.

"Oh, don't take too long. I have a surprise waiting for you downstairs."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, feeling at his stubble. You're right, he does look better with a trim.

He knows he should head downstairs, but his heart is beating a million times a second, and not even from withdrawals.

That little comment about a surprise? God damnit. You're teasing him. You have to be. How could you say something like that and not expect him to get excited?

Derek sighs and tucks his boner into the waistband of his boxers, then looks at himself in the mirror one more time to make sure it isn't noticeable. It's not... mostly.

Damnit. He could probably take a few minutes and rub one out, but he'd absolutely die of embarrassment if you walked in on him AGAIN.

He groans and turns to leave. Oh well. It's hidden well enough, and you'd already seen worse. Plus... maybe if this surprise is anything like his fantasies, he'd have an opportunity to use it.

"Oh, wait wait wait!" You scramble over to him as he trudges downstairs, keeping him from entering the living room.

"Are you gonna tell me what my surprise is?"

"No! Then it wouldn't be a surprise at all. Close your eyes."

Derek does as instructed, shutting his eyes tight. When feels you grab his hand and start to tug him along, he can't help but sneak a peek.

"I swear... if your Idea of a surprise is to walk me into a wall-"

"Oh, shut it." You scoff and clap your free hand over his eyes.

"Just trust me. And no peeking."

Derek grumbles, but he does trust you. A lot more than he lets on. So, he blindly stumbles along as you lead him into the... kitchen? Yeah, he's pretty sure he's in the kitchen.

"Okay, you can look." You uncover his eyes, but keep a tight hold on his hand as you beam at him.

"What do you think?"

What does he think?

What does he think?

Derek chokes up at the sight before him, and has to turn his head so you don't see the way his eyes are watering again.

A cake. You baked him a fucking cake to say you're proud of him. And he called you annoying.

"It's to celebrate being a week sober." You explain, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his face.

He squeezes your hand tightly, but can't get any words out.

"A week." He whispers, blinking back tears. Fuck, has it been a week already? It feels like hardly a day has passed.

"Oh, love. C'mere."

Derek lets himself be pulled into your arms. He groans from your touch, melting into the embrace and burying his face in your neck.

God, this is perfect. He's wanted to be held like this for so long, but now that it's finally happening... he can't help but feel guilty.

"I'm such an ass." He mumbles into your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

"Not always." You laugh softly and pull him a little closer.

Too close. He can feel your breasts pressing against him... fuck. Any closer and you might be able to feel what he has tucked away.

"Not always?" Derek scoffs, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes.

"Is that really the best you've got to make me feel better?"

"What? You want me to lie?"

"Maybe."

He stares into your eyes, heart pounding in his chest as he suddenly realizes just how close you are. It takes everything in him not to lean in and bridge the few inch gap between the two of you.

"You look nice like this."

Derek can feel his face heating up as you cup his face with a hand. Shit, If you don't stop soon he might actually just kiss you.

"Like what?" He asks breathlessly, mesmerized by your touch.

"With a trim." You smile and run your thumb along his his stubble, eyes trailing from his jaw to his lips.

For a second, Derek is sure you're going to kiss him. He tilts his head ever so slightly in anticipation, and his eyes flutter shut.

"So... you want a piece of cake?" You clear your throat, suddenly dropping your arms and breaking the embrace.

Of course you weren't going to kiss him. Derek gives you a half-hearted smile and nods, trying to hide just how crushed he feels.

"Yeah, sure. Cake."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"No, love, you're supposed to do the edge pieces first."

You chuckle as Derek angrily fumbles with two puzzle pieces. They quite obviously don't match, but he's trying to force them together anyways.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware puzzles had rules." He scoffs, dramatically tossing the little cardboard chunks across the table.

You'd dragged him out to the porch for a little fresh air, since he insisted he was too tired to make the five minute walk down to the beach.

"Well, they do. The biggest rule is don't throw the puzzle pieces, or you'll lose them." You laugh and continue flipping pieces over so they're facing upwards.

It hasn't been very long since you started the puzzle, and Derek already looks bored.

"Is this supposed to be fun?" He grumbles, helping you flip over pieces with one hand, the other finding it's way to rest on top of yours.

You wonder if he even notices he's doing it again. Touching you like that. You've gotten used to it by now, and usually just let it happen.

"Oh, come on. You gonna let a puzzle get the best of you, Danforth? A child could do this."

Derek makes a face and gestures to the sea of little cardboard scraps scattered across the table.

"A child could do a one thousand piece puzzle?" He scoffs.

"Okay, maybe not..." You laugh and adjust your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"But I'm sure you can do it."

Derek's face flushes pink, and you aren't sure whether its from the praise or the way you're so casually holding his hand. Probably both. But so what if you're holding his hand? He's the one who started it.

He just mumbles something under his breath and looks back down at the table, suddenly very motivated to help you pick through the pieces.

His hand doesn't leave yours.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek wakes up from a deep sleep to the sound of your voice and the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp.

He gasps and tries to sit up, but finds he's stuck.

Er, not stuck, just... underneath you?

"Come on, love. You slept through nearly the whole movie." You laugh softly and start to nudge him off your lap.

Derek finally remembers what's going on, and pulls his arm out from under you. Apparently he'd tucked it beneath your knees while he slept, because he sure didn't remember doing it.

"Told you a chick flick would put me to sleep." He mumbles, fumbling to sit up. He finds his other arm is also stuck, wedged in between your waist and the couch.

"Sure made yourself comfortable, huh?" You tease, scooting forward and freeing him.

"Shut up." Derek reluctantly pulls away from you, sitting up and looking at you with a dazed expression. He wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth and groans. That really was a good nap.

"It's just so easy to fall asleep on you." The words come out before he can really think over them, and he freezes in embarrassment. Thankfully, you seem to take it in a different way than he meant it.

"Oh, am I that boring? I put you to sleep?"

"Exactly. I'm yawning already." He teases, letting out an exaggerated yawn that only earns him an elbow to the ribs.

"Hmph. Next time you can fall asleep somewhere else."

"But you're so damn comfortable." He whines, scrambling after you as you make your way upstairs. You can't leave him yet. You just can't.

"Well, your bed is plenty comfortable as well. Go to sleep."

Derek is suddenly struck with a thought, and takes your hand before you can slip away into your room for the night.

"What if..." He starts, placing his other hand on your hip and pulling you a little closer.

"What if I don't want to sleep in my bed tonight?"

You give him an incredulous look, and Derek can hardly believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Fuck, you're going to reject him. He just knows it.

"My bed?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the way his hand is gripping your hip.

Derek can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He's being WAY too forward, and probably seems like a creep. Damnit.

"I... I just won't be able to sleep without you. I know it." He stutters, stumbling over his words. It's the truth, though. The only time he's been able to sleep peacefully lately is when he's touching you.

"Derek, love..." You chuckle and start to brush his hands away, taking a step back.

Fuck. He needs to show you how serious he is about this.

"Please? Just for tonight?" He grabs both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his as he meets your gaze. You said he has puppy-eyes or something, right? Derek does his best to look pitiful.

It's not hard to do. He really does feel pitiful in this moment, begging you so blatantly. He might as well get on his fucking knees.

"Fine." You finally relent, groaning and gently shoving Derek aside as you head into your bedroom.

"But I hope you know I kick in my sleep."

"I don't mind taking that risk."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After quickly getting ready for bed, you settle down under the covers while Derek stands awkwardly to the side.

"Well? You gonna join me?" You ask, patting the spot next to you.

God, how did you get roped into this? Him and those damn puppy eyes. He's so hard to say no to.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Derek scrambles to climb into bed beside you. He looks like he's having just as much trouble believing what's happening.

"Sleeping with you wasn't really in my job description, you know. I'm complaining to your mother after this."

"Please don't." He groans, squirming and getting comfortable under the shared blanket. He keeps his distance, seeming content just to be in the same bed as you.

"You gonna sleep in that?" You lift the blanket to peek at his outfit, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Yeah? What's wrong with it?" He pouts and tugs the blanket back down, acting self-conscious.

"Nothing, just... You aren't going to be hot?"

"Are you trying to get me to take my pants off, sweetheart?"

"God, no. I've seen enough of that."

Your teasing clearly gets to him, because he rolls over to face away from you, grumbling. You swear his ears are a little pink. Is he blushing?

"Oh, love. I'm just messing with you." You scoot a little closer to him, and put a hand on his waist.

"I know." He whispers, breath hitched.

"Is it okay if I do this?"

He groans when you get even closer, spooning him from behind. Your arm wraps around his waist and you press your entire body against his.

"M-maybe I will get hot..." He mumbles, but makes no effort to push you away. Instead, he completely melts under your touch, relaxing against the pillow.

"Keep your pants on, Danforth."

"Yes ma'am."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek has been in bed with you for what feels like hours, (though really only around half of one), and he still can't believe what's happening.

Your arm is around his waist, holding him tight while the rest of your body is pressed up against him. He can feel your breasts pressing into his back, and your lips on his neck.

He almost wishes you'd kiss him, but that would probably send him over the edge.

And God, is he dangerously close to the edge right now.

His heart is pounding, heartbeat in synch with the throbbing in his pants. He's been hard ever since you cuddled up to him, but no way in hell is he going to ask you to stop. Not ever. Even if it kills him.

Scratch that. It is going to kill him. Derek can't help but let out a whimper as his dick twitches in his sweatpants.

Fuck. Your hand is right there, on his stomach. If you'd just slide it down a little...

"What's wrong?" You mumble, giving him a tight squeeze and nuzzling against the back of his neck.

"O-oh. Just... headache... Don't feel good..."

He feels like a total prick for lying to you, but what is he supposed to say? Yeah, totally fine, just horny as fuck? He'd rather die.

"Aww... I've got you, love."

Derek's breath hitches as you throw your leg over him. He can feel your thigh pressed up against his side, and the way you squeeze him feels heavenly.

He whimpers again, and starts to squirm slightly in your grasp. Fuck, if you keep this up he's not going to be able to control himself.

You continue to gently squeeze, rub, and cuddle him, whispering words of comfort with your lips pressed against the back of his neck. He can feel your hot breath on him, your breasts against his back, your hand on his stomach, your leg wrapped around his...

He can feel everything. And it's driving him insane.

Okay, okay, fuck. He can fix this. He just needs a quick release. That's all.

Derek starts to form a plan in his head, fueled by desperation and lust. Once he's mostly sure you're asleep, he slips his hand down into his boxers.

Biting back a moan, he slowly starts to jerk himself off. Painfully slow. He can't risk waking you up.

It's so fucking hard to not go faster, or move, or make a sound. Fuck, it's just so hard. Period.

He didn't really think this through, huh? Asking to sleep in your bed. Next time he'll jerk off first. If there is a next time. Damnit. If you catch him like this, you'll never speak to him again. He's sure.

Trembling, he accidentally lets a small whine slip out. Even with the absolute minimum amount of stimulation, he's close to finishing.

"Hnngh... Derek? You okay?"

Fuck. You're awake.

"Huh? Yeah, just... nightmare..." He chokes the words out, hand still wrapped around his cock as he slowly milks out a steady trickle of precum.

"It's okay." You whisper, holding him even tighter. "I'm right here."

Yeah, and that's the his damn problem. Your words and touch send him spiraling over the edge, and he bites his lip with nearly enough force to draw blood as he comes in his sweatpants.

It's not the most satisfying orgasm, seeing as he could barely touch it... but it still feels so much better than being that fucking horny with no release.

"Thank you..." Derek groans, praying that you don't ever discover the double meaning behind his words.

He had originally planned to sneak away and clean himself up, but with the way you're clinging to him...

Fuck. Guess he's sleeping in wet sweatpants.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: Oh my goddd, sorry for such a long wait on this chapter!!! I've been wanting to write this scene FOREVER, but I also wanted to get it right!!

I love putting Derek in uncomfortable situations. Not sorry.

Also its crazy to me that I've written 16 thousand words of fanfic for a character that had 20 minutes of screen time and then fucking DIED 💀

Anyways... expect the next chapter in 2-3 days. Thanks for all the love and support!!!

Part 6

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not texting my friend?

To be clear I have no intention of cutting off this person, I will not block or ghost them, and if they text me I WILL answer and not be dry or lame about it.

I just won't be the one to start any conversations.

Moving on:

The story is super complicated but I'll try to keep it coherent.

Three people in the story (fake names):

Me (20)

Alex (16) - friend

Luck (16) - younger sibling We are all the same gender.

Something to keep in mind about me: I have always been very sheltered, naive and distracted, people have told me so and the more I learn the more I realize how ignorant I am. So I have very little experience, perception and knowledge of worldly things. This makes it difficult for me to keep up with people my age and I spend most of my focus on stories I like to write. It's not an excuse for anything and I'm actively working to be better.

Something that doesn't contribute much to the story but may be nice to know: Pretty much everything happens online, I've only met Alex in person like 4 times for birthday parties and stuff.

Now the story: I met Alex three years ago during covid when I was doing school online (I was 17 and Alex and Luck were 13). I was introduced to Alex through my younger sibling. Luck added me to a group chat with a bunch of their classmates, and I got popular really fast. Alex took a particular liking to me, because they thought i was funny and we had many of the same hobbies. So Alex was the first of Luck's friends to start a chat with me directly. Alex was always online and so was I, so we ended up talking alot, like all the time. I noticed Luck got kind of jealous, and that was when I began to wonder if the friendship was right, but I did nothing about it.

Eventually Alex and I started writing a story together, it's something I try to do with all of my close friends and we got really into it. A big rule that I have is that the real world and fiction are separate, under no circumstances are they to entertwine, especially emotionally (ex. I have never and will never insert myself in a story or daydream, not even if reality sucks for me at that time) Alex was different, they got attached to the characters. So there I am, obsessed with progressing the story's plot, and I kill off one of my characters. Alex expresses discontent, but not much. It's through Luck that I find out later that Alex had been crying about it for days. I felt bad and brought the character back, and life went on.

A year and a half into our friendship and Luck seems to have gotten over her jealousy, while Alex and I spend more time writing and focusing on the story than anything else. There are some signs in the rare times that Alex and I talk about life that it become apparent that Alex is going through a rough time, but I don't think too much about it since the story is all that's on my mind. On top of this there's school and whatever.

One day Alex starts asking for breaks from story writing and plotting, and I agree without a fuss. It gets me thinking a bit more, and after a couple more days during a conversation about the real world Alex sends a long paragraph about how horrible things are. (I won't explain what exactly these horrible things were for privacy reasons) Now I realize how inconsiderate I've been so far and I tell Alex that I'm there to support them in whatever they need. I spend pretty much all of the next year texting them every hour of every day and this is what happens:

At the beginning of our friendship our conversations flowed wonderfully, we shared our achievements and showed genuine interest in each other's lives. But things changed and by this point In the story our conversations go like so:

Me: (asks a question) Alex: (responds) Me: (reacts to response) Alex: (dry response) -Repeat infinitely-

Aside from that we would always say goodnight and Goodmorning to each other.

One time. Only one. Alex texted me asking for help and I didn't see the message until hours later. I never really forgave myself for that.

At this point I'm 19 and Alex is 15, and it suddenly crosses my mind how our friendship might be perceived by others. I considered Alex another younger sibling, but with all the crazy things happening in the world I wondered what others would think. In the end I concluded that Alex needed me and it didn't matter. So life goes on. My entire life revolves around helping Alex, when I'm not texting them I am worrying, my own problems come second. My whole family thinks I'm addicted to my phone. I'm always tired and stressed. The stories were put on pause.

Time passes and soon I'm turning twenty. I'm starting to think I can't do it anymore, our friendship has turned kind of codependent (I didn't even know what that was until a month ago). I consider ghosting many times, changing my number, blocking, but only for a couple minutes at a time and I always hate myself for thinking it afterwards. I keep talking to Alex, but sometimes I'll answer a bit slower. Let them wait 3-5 minutes instead of 1-2, if I really steel myself I can hold back for 7 minutes.

One day without warning Alex doesn't text me at all. They've dissapeared before but never without sending a quick message to let me know about it, not until this day. Their status also worries me, only one word: "gone". There I am internally freaking out, losing it, trying to come up with reasons for which everything is fine. I don't ask Luck if they know anything because I know they'll get annoyed. It's not until late the next day that Alex lets me know they went a roadtrip. I tell them "I was worried lol" and immediately they ask why. I wasn't expecting an apology but the question struck me as weird, so I was reluctant to answer. Alex pushes for an answer, they haven't been this interested in what I've had to say for years. I with horror I realize that they liked that i was worried, they wanted to milk it as much as they could. I understand that people need validation, but I was already constantly complementing Alex and telling them how important they were. The fact that they preferred my panic (though in Alex's defense I never told them I was panicking) hit me hard. I didn't elaborate on why I was worried. Alex got upset. And i spent the next hour sobbing over my phone, realizing i needed some distance.

I started slow. I wouldn't say goodnight somedays, others I would forgo a Goodmorning, but I always answered (I swore to myself never to leave Alex on read). I went on a trip and I decided I would enjoy it for once, so I let Alex know i couldn't text much. Nevertheless this lack of contact didn't keep me from worrying and wondering endlessly.

After the trip we kept texting less, we expressed missing each other but neither of us did too much to keep things going. I tried to focus on my in-person relationships, and friendships with people my age. I went back to stories and published a novella.

Nowadays Alex and I talk maybe once every week and a half. The conversations are excruciating. Alex tells me how things still suck, my usual words of comfort seem to mean nothing to either of us anymore. Alex leaves me on read as soon as the conversation goes dry, usually after ten minutes worth of conversation, sometimes over the span of many hours. We don't talk again until I cave in and say hello. Then a couple days later Alex says hello. And then it's up to me again, and every time I tell myself I won't do it.

Luck has told me their opinion of Alex, they saw way before I did how self-centered Alex is. The thing is Alex doesn't do it on purpose, I am entirely sure of that and so is Luck. Luck treats Alex nicely but they're out of touch, more than I am. I am not mad at Alex. I still care deeply for them, but I feel like there's nothing I can do andour old dynamic just hurts both of us. Cutting them off is not an option, they're just a kid and I'm better than that. So I just don't start a conversation.

A couple days ago Alex texted me (even though it was my unspoken turn to text first) and we talked, and the conversation wasn't dry at all, and it wasn't that painful to deal with. They showed interest in my life and shared some sad stuff but also happy stuff about theirs, and it felt like old times. We texted the entire day. At one point the they mentioned that I could text them whenever I wanted, and I felt an underlying petition that I do. The conversation went on and eventually they left me on read the next morning when I answered a message from the night before.

Ever since then I've been actively holding back from texting them but I can't help but wonder if I'm a jerk for it.

These aren't even all the factors but this post has gotten too long lol.

So AITA?

[kigozula]

As Long As We're Together - Sokkla Saturdays 2024

Day 4

FF.net & AO3

“I’m home now. In my room actually. I love you my beautiful princess.”

Azula smiled when she saw Hawky land on her windowsill. She rushed to the window, opened the scroll, and hastily read her lover's letters.

Sokka had left half an hour ago after a long day. As always, he wrote her.

Azula's smile widened when she was done reading his message. She was sitting comfortably on her chair, her sleeping robe on, with a candle on her desk.

"Glad you are. I was almost worried you'd get distracted by handbags or food. I love you, my handsome warrior."

Sokka had his hair down and his sleeping pants on, sprawled out on his bed, needing a quick breather.

He wasn't completely sure if his lover was up to writing since she was tired. Upon hearing Hawky on his balcony he jumped out of the bed with a huge foolish smile.

Like Azula, he went to his desk. Shaking his head, he chuckled at her message.

"Very funny princess. I have something to snack right now though. Did you eat something? Have you already tucked in bed with you fascinating sleeping robe on and ponytail that gives breathtaking view to your pretty neck?"

He loved teasing her, of course mixed with the truth in his words. Imagining her smile and blush while reading his flirty message surely made him satisfied.

Azula indeed blushed. She was tired but Sokka made her forget about that easily.

"You dirty-minded warrior. Indeed, I am exactly like you imagined. Unless deep down you imagined something else? Knowing you, you did. Do you have your hair down and are ... shirtless? I am drinking some chamomile tea."

"Are you sure  the dirty-mined here is me princess? Yes, I am so very shirtless, but your skin is missing on it. Good, the tea will help you sleep comfortably I hope. Wished I could hold you all through the night while stroking your hair."

This time, Azula smiled differently. Her heart clenched.

"Me too. But soon it will happen. I'd rather be in your strong arms right now too. I love you so much Sokka!"

Sokka too, got emotional now.

"I love you indescribably much you know that right? I know, soon I'll never ever let you go. No matter where you go!"

Sipping from her tea, Azula wrote back.

"I like the sound of that. Can't wait to have you around for good. Good night my warrior."

She knew, Sokka would always send the last message, the gentleman he is. Both of them kept some of their letters in their rooms, to read them sometimes, and feel comfort in their memories. Azula kept more of them, since Sokka insisted to write the last one.

"Good night Azula. I kiss and hug you my love."

"Did you actually kiss the letter? Well, I'll give you a good night gift and kiss the letter back now."

"Of course I did! Your fingers touched this letter which makes it precious! I love you Azula, see you tomorrow."

They went to bed with comfort inside their chests. Hoping to meet in sweet dreams until they could see each other again tomorrow.

[kyurilin]

2: Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

26: Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

There is a severe lack of planning in my fanfic writing with the exception of the Shabby AU ideas and mostly since I don't write in chapters UNLESS I decide to post it early to gain interest (ie Stray and Love Is Just Like That, Sometimes) I really don't even know where chapters are gonna end. Mic's BS Life is FAMOUS for not having been planned at all with exception for the ending, while Crumbled Rooftops actually has an outline. Stray is MOSTLY unplanned and was a Follow The Vibes type thing with some talking it over with Shabby to nail down plot points I wanted to get down. Ironically the lack of planning is why stray chapter 3 has hardly gone anywhere as of yet but I also like not planning so that I can follow the vibes and figure out if something works naturally or not as opposed to stressing over how something SHOULD be going (crumbled rooftops chapter 5 suffered from this strongly since I knew what I wanted to do but several iterations didn't feel right).

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

I gotta say Present Mic's Totally Bullshit Life in EVERY sense of the word wild. It started from Aizawa's POV but I wasn't used to writing him yet and switched it to Mic's. Then that vibed so well that almost 4 years ago TO THE DAY I knocked out every bit of the beginning up until Mic and Aizawa meet up again for the first time in years in the span of a few hours. By January/February of 2021 I had until the AWARDS CEREMONY done (and that's about 48k into the story!). This story was not intended to be posted- I was solely writing it for myself as a fun little thing because I'd fallen really hard into MHA and wanted to write it. Stray and a villain au for an OC from Mic's BS Life were started between the time I started this and when I hit the 48k mark. I wasn't interacting with the fandom at all at this point beyond obsessively reading erasermic fic, so my first real foray into interacting with anyone was to join an erasermic discord. Met @purekesseltrash, told them I loved their Rooftop Necromancy fics, formed a friendship, revealed my still in progress story and Bellsa convinced me I HAD to finish it and post it.

It took me till May to finish it (had to cut a smut scene because I wasn't comfortable posting it as is), figured out how to end it, then knocked out the HAPPIEST ending the week my great aunt iris passed because I needed something to distract me (Aunt iris was one of the most iconic people in my life and I looked up to her very much so writing my silly fanfic was a very welcome distraction). Almost posted the story from a McDonald's drive thru.

Even more wild is that this fic STILL gets comments and kudos. I literally just got a new comment yesterday. So many comments have told me that they stayed up all night reading it. @shabby-blog was commisioned by Bellsa to do fanart for it and now me and shabby are buddies because of that. I've been writing since I was 13 but not until I posted this story did I have a story that was a real 'hit'. And LITERALLY all because after consuming all of Vigilantes and as much erasermic fanfic as I could read and the entire anime and manga at the time in 2021 I looked at Mic and Aizawa's friendship and went "okay but what about the two of them healing from the loss of Oboro together and actually showing how it affected them and their friendship".

I owe it nearly entirely to the single panel in vigilantes where Mic tells midnight to call him Mic instead of his name, and now here I am 4 years later (3 and a half since posting) still hearing from people that they love how I wrote the characters growing over the course of the story and that it means a lot to them. Which is something I never expected to see in a comment on a fic I wrote.

[zprites]

February TMNT All 4-1

Another month, another All 4-1 😁🐢

The Gracious Hosts: @turtle-babe83, @thelaundrybitch, @leosgirl82, @tmnt-tychou, @nittleboo, and @post-apocalyptic-daydream

I ended up doing two of the prompts, the dialogue prompt I did reword a bit but the general idea is still there. This was a lot of fun to write so please enjoy the ride full of angst and fluff!

Bayverse! Donnie x F! Reader - SFW

As always, all turtles and reader are over 20 years!

I listened to Avocado Toast by Clinton Kane on repeat while writing this... Sorry, not sorry

Avocado Toast

There are days when it feels like the world comes crashin' And I've been numbin' the pain just to keep distracted Of all the things I would fade You're the one that's lasted Avo Toast - Clinton Kane

This was a huge mistake…

It wasn’t the idea of being set up on a blind date that was the problem. In fact, you grew more excited for the evening as the past week progressed thanks to your good friend and loving coworker, April. Over the last month she gushed about how compatible you and one of Casey’s friends would be, hinting that she wanted to set the two of you up. Finally you agreed on the blind date. All you knew about him was that he was ‘handsome with long hair and abs’, (April’s words), and that he shared similar hobbies and interests with you. Despite her optimism, you were still reluctant to go but you convinced yourself to give dating another try. 

To say that dating for you was hard was putting it mildly. The longest relationship you had ever been in lasted almost two years, taking a piece of you that you still struggled to get back. Since then you tried dating but nothing ever worked out. Either they were only looking for sex or were a walking red flag. Whatever the case was, nothing ever went past the first date. You often found yourself staring up at the ceiling late at night wondering if there was something wrong with you, the phrase ‘you are what you attract’ made a home in your mind and bared its fangs at any positive notion you had surrounding dating. 

The only time you felt whole again was when you spent time with your best friend. The two of you became almost inseparable soon after meeting due to April’s insistence that you meet the brothers. That night in the lair you found your way into his lab to find him elbow deep in an engine. You asked what he was working on, following along as he spoke. The conversation soon strayed to computers, which was something you were knowledgeable in. The two of you just clicked, understanding each other’s jokes and references the other made. Honestly, you enjoyed every moment with him. You texted him throughout your day, while your evenings were often spent together either at your place or at the lair. You spent countless hours with him in his lab, working side by side and conversing well into the morning. This caused you to be almost late to work more times than not, but you didn’t mind. 

You didn’t mind it when he accidentally woke you up with a phone call about a recent breakthrough. You didn’t mind taking care of him when he came down with a nasty flu he caught from one of his brothers. You didn’t mind catching said flu, bedridden while he crashed on your couch to make sure he was there to help. You didn’t mind his thigh resting against yours under the shared blanket during movie nights. 

You didn’t mind because you were in love with him. 

Since you met him seven years ago, your small crush evolved into something much more profound. A deep emotion that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach and a smile to form on your face at the thought of him. He was there for you through thick and thin, taking you out on a nighttime picnic at a park when you got your promotion and being a shoulder to cry on when you broke up with your toxic ex. He even took you to the American Museum of Natural History one night, simply saying the police owed him a favor before the two of you went through each exhibit hand in hand. Even though you realized your feelings for him fairly quickly you didn't want to ruin the friendship the two of you shared. You were certain he only thought of you as a friend so you stayed silent, bottling up those feelings and convincing yourself it was enough. It truly was. As long as you got to be in his life, you were content.

However as your feelings grew for him, you found yourself going on less dates. Maybe subconsciously you knew that no one could hold a candle to him. Yet here you were, thanks to April’s insistence, on your first date in almost a year. 

No, the problem wasn’t that you agreed to a blind date. The problem was that the person sitting across the candlelit table from you was an absolute jackass. 

Before the two of you sat down you could feel the inflated ego that radiated off him, immediately rubbing you the wrong way with a single comment on your appearance. He talked about himself incessantly, not asking anything about you or allowing you to get a word in, leaving the conversation completely one-sided. The waiter delivered your drinks, interrupting your date and giving you enough time to excuse yourself to the restroom. Your irritation turned into genuine anger as you heard your date talk down to the waiter before he ordered for the two of you, insisting that all you needed was a side salad while you were still within earshot. 

Once inside the bathroom you let out a loud sigh. 

What the fuck were you thinking? Of course he’s just like the others… Man, this place has the best steak in the city too… 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your next move. Despite the fact you spent the better part of your afternoon getting ready and were pretty hungry, you didn’t think you could sit through dinner without decking your date in the face. You could text April and ask her to bail you out but you knew she was at a concert with Casey, and to be honest you didn't want her to know how much of a disaster this was. At least not yet. 

That left you with one option. You knew you could count on him to get you out quickly and that he wouldn't ask too many questions. 

You sent him a quick message from your watch.

You: Hey, can you call me in a few minutes?

You thankfully didn't have to wait long for a response.

D: Hey, sure can! Everything okay?

You: Yeah. I’ll explain when I’m on the cab ride home.

D: No need. I see you’re at Maggioli’s. I’ll be in the alley next to the restaurant in five minutes. Talk to you in a moment :)

You took a few deep breaths to collect yourself before leaving the restroom. As you sat back down the man in front of you began talking about his stance on women in the gaming world. You felt your eye twitch in agitation as the words ‘women can game, sure, as long as their shirt is low cut, but they’re better off sticking to the kitchen’. Thankfully he was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You gave him an apologetic smile as you made a show to check who was calling you.

“Sorry, I got to take this.”

“Really? You know it’s rude to answer your phone while on a date.”

You apologized once more and answered the call, seeing your date roll his eyes out of your periphery.

“Hey mom. What’s up?”

“Mom? Are you sure you’re okay? It’s Don- Oh… This is one of those fake calls where I play along. Um, well... let’s see. Your uh… your cat! Yes! Something happened to Tamago and uh…” It took everything in your power to not smile as he made up a fake emergency regarding your beloved pet. 

You frowned instead. “Woah, slow down. Did something happen?”

“She um… I don’t know. Oh gosh, I’m not good at this…”

You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from giggling. You stole a glance at your date who looked annoyed. Focus! 

“Oh my god!” You blurted with a worried expression. “No no, stay put. I’ll be right there.”

“Phew, thank you. I’ll see you soon dear.”

Your heart skipped the beat at the gentle tone he used in combination with the nickname he gave you only a month ago. 

It doesn’t mean anything. He couldn’t possibly like you back…

You disconnected the call and stood up from your seat.

“I’m so sorry. My father just had a heart attack and in the hospi-”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

Oh for fuck’s sake…

“I drove here.” You lied. 

“What about the food? You need to pay for your portion!”

You rolled your eyes. “All I ordered was water. Should have thought about that before you ordered for me. It was nice meeting you but I have to go. Sorry again.”

You quickly left the restaurant, breathing out a sigh of relief as soon as the chill of the air hit your face. 

An Oscar-worthy performance. Hopefully you’ll never see him again…

You walked to the side of the building and into the alley, scanning the rooftops as you went. Once your gaze caught sight of a familiar figure you couldn’t help but wave up at your friend. He waved back before jumping off the roof, landing softly in front of you despite his size and the thirty foot drop. 

“Man, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.” You breathed out, a wide smile on your face. 

“I think I have some idea.” Donnie chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he stood to his full height. The purple-masked terrapin towered over you but you were used to the difference in height. 

He smiled down at me. “But I think I’d get a better picture if you explained what that was all about.”

You thought back to the events leading up to now and let out a groan. “Fine. How about you take me home first and I’ll order us food while I spill all the gory details. I’m starving.” 

“Well then, let’s not dawdle. Your chariot awaits my dear.” He said in a teasing tone while holding his arms out.

You swallowed down the rush of certain emotions that threatened to break free at those words. “My turtle in shining armor. Or tech gear rather.” You joked as you allowed him to pick you up bridal style. He laughed at that, holding you close as he began to move. 

“Hold on tight.”

Donnie ran across the rooftops with practiced motions, each leap jostling you slightly. Your arms were around his neck as he held you with only one arm, keeping you pressed against his plastron. Soon the two of you were on your balcony. He set you down and followed after you into your apartment. 

Food was ordered and you changed out of your clothes, opting to wear something much more comfortable. Once in your pajamas you gave your cat who was lounging across the foot of your bed a quick pet. You left your bedroom and joined Donnie on the couch. He had taken his goggles and backpack off and set them near the door to your balcony which meant he was planning on staying. Not that you minded. 

“Slow night?” You asked him while positioning your legs to the side so that your sock-clad feet rested against his thigh. 

“Yep, which is surprising for a Friday night. They’ll call me if I’m needed.” 

You nodded at that, knowing his brothers were perfectly capable of handling any situation thrown their way. “Well, thank you for the save back there.”

“For you, anything.”

Don’t say things like that…

“I am curious about what transpired that constituted me swooping in and saving you though. It looked like you were on a date based on the Michelin star restaurant and the way you were dressed.”

You let out a sigh as you thought back to the date. “Long story short, April set me up on a blind date with Casey’s friend because she thought we’d hit it off, but he happened to be a massive asshat.”

“Really?”

“The first thing out of his mouth was ‘Wow, I’m amazed you have the confidence to wear that with all the extra weight you’re carrying around’. He proceeded to tell me how better I’d look if I went to the gym and offered to bring me with him. He was egotistical, misogynistic, and rude, not just to me but to the server as well. He even ordered for me, telling the waiter that all I needed was a side salad since I didn’t need the extra calories.”

Donnie stayed silent as you ranted.

“The nerve of that guy! If I want to enjoy a steak, I have every damn right to! I shouldn’t be surprised really. No matter how many times I try, I end up disappointed because all I seem to attract are shitty men. Maybe there’s something wrong with me…”

“Hey, now. You know that’s not true.” He straightened up, giving you an intense look. “You're kind, beautiful, and you have an amazing mind." 

You flushed a bit at his words. 

"I know that anyone would be lucky to have you…" He trailed off before turning away with a frown. 

The silence that followed was palpable. You got the sense that he stopped himself from saying more which caused your nerves to go haywire. Biting your lip you contemplated speaking up to say that you didn't want just anyone. You wanted him, but the fear that he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings held you back.

Donnie shook his head. “You know… Leo and I talked a few nights ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He let out a huff before continuing. “He made some interesting points about our friendship. About us…”

You frowned in confusion. A pit formed in your stomach as your anxiety levels rose. “Us?” 

“Look…” He spoke your name as his eyes met yours. “You and I have been through so much together. You’re the closest friend I have and I cherish every moment we spend together.”

See, ‘friend’... Nothing more.

“You always brighten up my days with your jokes and your smile. You see me for me, for who I really am.”

Please, stop…

“I just need to know… How much longer are you going to keep pretending?”

Huh…?

“What are you talking about?” You spoke quietly, finding yourself puzzled by his question.

Donnie licked his lips and took a deep breath. “You can’t possibly have no idea how I feel about you dear.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I- I know I’m not good with words, but since the first night we met you somehow found a home in my heart, so much so that I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re the last thing on my mind before falling asleep and the first when I wake up. I just can’t seem to get you out of my head. I didn’t quite know what these feelings were until that night at the park a few years ago, when you got your promotion and we sat on the swings. You told me everything about your life as we freezed our butts off, but that night all I could think was ‘I love this person and I want them in my life forever’.”

What…? This has to be a dream…

“I just didn’t know how to tell you…” He paused as he began tapping his fingers against his knee, something he often did when he was nervous. “I was so worried you didn’t have similar feelings but Leo, he knocked some sense into me.”

Holy shit, he loves you…

“You deserve the world times two and I want to be the one to give it to you, if you’ll let me…”

HE LOVES YOU!

“Please say something…”

Your mouth opened and closed, unable to find the right words to say or any words for that matter. It was as if you lost the ability to form any coherent thought. So instead, you acted on those years of repressed feelings. 

You pushed yourself onto your knees and took his head in your hands before promptly placing your lips on his. He tensed at your touch at first but quickly found himself melting into the kiss, one hand coming to rest at your hip while the other cupped your face. You poured every unspoken thought into the kiss. Donnie responded in kind, the fingers at your waist twitching as you let out a soft moan. The press of his lips against yours was almost too much. Your heart felt ready to burst, warmth spreading throughout your entire body. 

The two of you parted, foreheads touching as your breaths intertwined. You kept your eyes closed as you felt his thumb brush over your cheek, catching the single tear that you didn’t realize escaped. You swallowed and hesitantly met his gaze, soft hazel eyes full of tenderness.

“I love you too…” You whispered. 

He beamed, his smile contagious as you felt the corners of your lips twitch upward as well. He leaned forward to kiss you again.

Knock-knock knock.

The two of you jumped at the sudden rapping at your front door. You chuckled nervously as you regretfully pulled away from him and stood up from the couch. You answered the door, thanking the delivery person before setting the food on the coffee table and returning to your spot beside him.

Your stomach growled before you could say anything, the scent of the warm food filling your apartment. He chuckled and planted a quick kiss on your temple. “C’mon dear. Let’s eat then we can watch a movie.”

“Will you stay the night?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll stay for breakfast?”

“Sure. I’ll make your favorite.”

“Avocado toast?”

“Yes, with bacon. Just how you like it.”

“...I love you…”

“I love you too dear…”

[eddiesguitarskills]

When We Were Young

Part 4

Ex Eddie Munson X reader

Other parts : 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Intro: 5 years have past since you packed up and left behind Hawkins. Well not all of it, as the people you met there are still a huge part of your life. But it's been 5 years since you had set a foot in the small town, 5 years since you left him.And now after all that time you were back.

Warning: angst, language, mentions of suicide, miscarriages, self harm, mental health.Arguments. Mentions of break ups. Female identity reader. Use of y/n

Bold parts are flashbacks

Word count: 3.4 k

A/n: please only read if you are in a good place, I wouldn't want this story to trigger or hurt anyone. I'm so sorry this took so long to write, I hope having some good flashbacks makes up for that.

Not Prove Read

It had been two weeks since you'd been back, with planning for the new school year, catching up with your family, seeing the Harrington's, and occasionally seeing your old friends, you hadn't had a chance to see Eddie. Not that he hadn't been consuming your thoughts, but having people around really helped that. However, your distractions were getting fewer and fewer as time went on. The younger members of your group were going back to school. Lucas went back to Kentucky last week, and Max and Will back to New York to study art two days ago. Mike and Jane went back to California yesterday. The settlement money coming to use for all the younger kids.

Dustin had left it as late as he could as he didn't want to miss a moment with you or his friends. Besides it's not like he had far to travel he went to Indiana Tech which was about an hour away from home. He was offered scholarships to ivy league schools, but he felt too guilty to take them. He worried that if he left the state something would happen and he wouldn't be there to fix it this time.

In his first year he travelled to school, but this year he was staying there. Eddie and Steve had convinced him that he needed to undergo the proper college experience and he was not going to do that in his mom's house. Especially with how anxious she was about everything he did, where he was, the fact that he couldn’t own a car despite having a driving license. Which is why he knew what they were saying was right. He needed a change, but he was also thankfully it was not too far away his anxiety couldn't survive that. He was glad he could come back whenever he needed, which might be sooner rather than later he thought as he still hadn’t spoken to Eddie since that night. He had tried many times but was met with silence. Eddie could be very dramatic so Dustin knew he would cool down eventually he just needed time. But today he had to leave he couldn’t wait for Eddie to talk to him anymore.

You turn the key walking into the Harrington’s house. You would knock but Nancy and Steve told you, this is as much your home as it is their’s so you come anytime you wanted. You did at least try to announce your arrival though as you never wanted to impose on them. Today was different as the pair knew you were coming to watch their three-year-old Rosie, while Nancy was at work and Steve took Dustin to college.

Steve was in the living room on the phone looking worried, tapping his foot rapidly, he looked up at you and slammed the phone back into the receiver. “I was trying to call you”. You look at your watch confused “am I late?” he shakes his head. “No it's just Nancy got in a car accident-”. You felt nerves fill your body, the same expression of worry on your face as his. “Is she okay?”. He nods slightly “they said it's just a slight concussion, and a few cuts but they need to keep her a few hours for observations”. As soon as you heard those words relief started to wash away the anxiety. You were still slightly upset that she was hurt but you were glad it wasn't anything serious. But you knew Steve all too well how he panicked about the people he loved, it was understandable with everything he had been through. “What are you waiting here for? Go. I've got Rosie as long as you need”. He hugs you, then grabs his jacket and keys.

You felt as if you were forgetting something like an annoying scratch you couldn't itch. Scratching away at your brain. Dustin. You almost forgot the reason you came to watch Rosie in the first place. “Should I ring Dustin and let him know?”. Steve opened the front door “no it's fine, I've already rang, Eddie is taking him”. You nod. Hoping he doesn't see you cringe at the mention of your ex’s name.

Beep. Beep. Dustin looked outside the window to see his friend. Well with how Eddie had been avoiding him he wasn't sure what their relationship was. At least now he would get a chance to talk to the headstrong man before he went to college. Eddie showed no sign that he was getting out of the car, which made Dustin worry he would have to move all of the boxes to his van by himself. He didn’t have many as he tried to keep the packing light, since it was a shared dorm room. But they were still heavy boxes, and at least five of them. Plus a suitcase. Maybe this was Eddie’s way of punishing him.

Dustin bent down to get the first box which was full of engineering books, his knees made a clicking sound on the way down. It hurt a bit but he powered through exiting the front door over to Eddie’s car. Only now the man wasn’t in the front seat he was standing by the back of the van with a cigarette in his mouth. He pulled the box from Dustin’s hand and put it in the trunk. Dustin thanked the man but he still said nothing, he just nodded to show he had heard him. Eddie walked over to Dustin’s house and started to retrieve the boxes. Keeping the cigarettes lit and in his mouth. Now and then using his hand to pull it out to tap the ash. It felt like a slap in the face for Dustin who had tried so hard to get Eddie to quit, and maybe that was why Eddie was doing it, another form of punishment. The reality was he smoking because he was stressed, and the slight burn to his throat was enough to ease the thought even for a second.

When all the bags were secured in the back of the van they set off. The tension could be cut with a knife. Eddie didn’t hate Dustin, he was just scared that he was losing him to you as well, which had no real logic behind it. In fact with how Eddie had been ignoring his friend, he was causing the problem himself. Having enough of the awkward tension Dustin decided to be the bigger person, “so how’s the bar?” Eddie nods “good”. Eddie wanted to hit himself why was he being so awkward it’s like recently he couldn’t get rid of his foul mood. Since you had come back a dark cloud had formed over his life.

He still didn’t understand if you could come back now why couldn’t you come back before? Maybe then you both could have fixed things. “We really need to get you a car, can’t have me and Harrington being your chauffeurs forever” he tries to joke but the tone of his voice doesn’t show that. Dustin agrees; thankful to hear Eddie’s voice even if he wasn’t a cheery one. It was better than the silent treatment.

Dustin was going to use this time stuck in a car with Eddie to his advantage. The worse that could happen is he wouldn’t talk to him again, with him going to college it was now or never. “About that night at Steve’s-“ Eddie turns his radio up to ignore the conversation. For years everyone had avoided talking about you, now he would have to get used to hearing your name again. However, nothing could prepare him for the hurt just a name could cause. Dustin lowered the radio “trust me I know you don’t wanna hear about her but the reality is she’s here now. So wouldn’t it be better to be able to vent or ask any questions to someone you trust?”. Dustin was always too smart for his own good, of course, what he was saying was right, not that Eddie wanted to admit that. Dustin had been the only person that had seen him break down about it and he never told anyone. I guess that’s what hurt him the most that night at Harrington’s, Dustin had seen how hurt he was about this, but from the looks of it seemed like he and you were still friends it didn’t make sense.

He banged on Dustin’s door again and again until he got an answer. The young boy answered, still in his pjs as it was three in the morning. He came to the door quickly scared someone had happened with the upside down again. What he didn’t expect to see was Eddie with bloodshot eyes, panicked. Before he had time to ask questions Eddie was speaking. “Do you know where she is?”. Shit, maybe it was the upside-down Dustin thought. “We fought, she couldn’t have just left like that, that’s not what people do. Do they?”. Dustin couldn’t understand fully what was happening but he knew it was about you, he had never seen Eddie looking like this, he looked worse than when he was accused of murder. “Eddie why don’t you come inside, we can figure this out together”. Tears started to pour from Eddie’s eyes so many that he felt like he was choking on them.

“I don’t get it” Eddie mutters under his breath if it wasn’t for the tight conforms of the van Dustin might have not heard it. “Which part?”. Eddie pulls the van to a stop at a red light and looks over at his younger friend “all of it”. There is quietness in the car. Dustin doesn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a question so he isn’t sure how to answer, or even if there was a right answer. There wasn't a book to help him explain all of this or if there was he hadn't found it yet. Eddie was sick of the silence and glad for the green light so he doesn't have to look at Dustin when he speaks. “What happened?” Dustin sighs “I didn’t expect you to come, I was trying to warn-“. Eddie grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. “That’s not what I mean”. Dustin didn’t want to betray your trust but Eddie was his best friend so he was in an awkward situation. “I don’t know.” The man took his eyes off the road for a second to glare at his friend “bullshit”. Even with his eyes back on the road, Dustin was still scared.

He knew he had to tell the truth but even he didn’t know that. He only knew what Steve revealed while drunk one night. “She- ”, Eddie didn’t want to be lied to anymore he needed the truth, maybe it would help the nightmares. “I honestly don’t know much”. Eddie’s nostrils flared, as he sighed. “Please don’t lie to me”. Dustin couldn’t bare to look at his friend so he looked out the window “I’m not, all I know is she had… I don’t know…. A breakdown or something… it was bound to happen to one of us… you know what this place can do to you, so she ran and I don’t exactly blame her. She seems so much better… but whenever you or the upside-down or Hawkins was mentioned I could see this pain behind her eyes. I knew that look well, I’d seen it in the mirror but it seemed worse for her.”

Eddie felt like a knife had been pierced through his chest, you were suffering and he didn’t even notice. Was it after the fight? Before? Had the fight pushed you over the edge? If only you would had talked to him maybe he could have helped. Why did you have to be so difficult? Maybe he was the difficult one. Maybe if he would have talked to you more, you wouldn't have ran. For years he had convinced himself you had abandoned him, you were the bad guy but maybe it was always more complex than that.

It had been a couple of hours since you had heard from Steve, despite him saying it wasn't severe, with the lack of communication you had started to worry. You were also not sure what to tell Rosie, so you tried different ways to distract her. Watching her favourite film, the little mermaid on repeat. Have a tea party, baking and now your least favourite game question time with a 3-year-old. It was at moments like this you could tell who her mother was. She had started with the easy question favourite colour? favourite princess? The best my little pony? Who was your Favourite 3-year-old? Now she had started on the more hard-hitting questions and it's not like you could avoid answering, because she would pester you with ‘why’ until she got a response.

“Do you have a husband?” you shake your head, surprised she could say such a big word and even more surprised by the question. “no, do you think I need one?”. The little girl considered the question “ it would make you happy”. There were a lot of layers to the girl's question and even more with her response. You wanted to tell the girl you didn't need a man to be happy but she was three and obsessed with Disney princesses, you weren't sure she would understand. So you poke her sides to tickle her and tell her “I get to spend time with my favourite person, I'm very happy”. The girl pout and shakes her head. “Not like mommy and daddy”. You smile, not wanting to get into your need to be single with a child. In fact, you didn't want to admit out loud that you were scared to be in a relationship, that deep down you never got over- no you could not think that. “Well that's because mommy and daddy are like prince charming and Cinderella. I'm like the fairy godmother. The fairy godmother is happy to help others and doesn't have a husband”.

The girl crosses her arms, and pouts her lips more. She looked adorable, but she didn't look in the mood to be told that. “No you are a princess, not a fairy godmother” she stated like a fact that you should know. The truth is it had been so long since you felt special that it felt weird for someone to describe you this way. The compliment from a three-year-old meant an awful lot to you, more than you would like to admit.

A week before the events that led to Eddie being accused of murder, you had been feeling super unwell. You weren't sure what was wrong with you, maybe it had something to do with your missed period but you were too scared to find out. You were lying on Eddie's bed not wanting to move. He had assumed you were about to get your period as this is how you would usually act during that time, so he got all of your comfort snacks. You groaned when he turned on the light. “I'm sorry princess, but I brought snacks does that make up for it”. You grumble “it depends on the snack” he hands the bag over to you, which is filled with your favourites, you root through it “I guess you're forgiven”. You spot a red shiny package, you read the writing ‘ring pop’.

Pulling it out you show it to him “you better not be proposing when I feel like death” he shakes his head, “no when I propose I promise it will be the cheesy thing ever, that has ever happened. The more embarrassing for you, the better”. You fake laugh at him, but aren't able to wipe the smile off your face at the thought of your future together. “I guess it's kind of a promise that one day you will be my wife...I like the sound of that, my wife” “ he gets on the bed with you pulling you into his chest. Eddie Munson was truly the sweetest boy around. Maybe having a child would be too bad if you had him holding your hand through it.

You gesture to yourself up and down “you sure you want to make a promise that like that when I look like this?” he nudges your knee teasingly “well you know what they say for better... Or worse”. You playfully hit his arm pretending to be annoyed. “Well, now I'm definitely not sharing my snacks with you.”

You nod choosing to agree with the girl to hopefully move her on to the next question. “Why you not live here before?” oh God maybe the relationship question was better. “Because I lived in England”. The girl looks confused “why?” you smile. How could you decide anything that happened to a small child when it was confusing enough for you to understand? “Because I didn't want my aunt to be alone”. You knew what word was going to come from Rosie's mouth next “why?”

“Because- umm” you had begun to speak out of instinct but you didn't know what to say. “Mummy says you were sad. I missed you. made daddy sad, and me sad”. Don't cry. Whatever you don't cry. You are grown-up, you have to stay strong. Rosie was smart for her age but there was still a world of hurt you wanted to protect her from. You lift her onto your lap hugging her “I'm sorry, sometimes being a grown-up is hard. And we have to be a little mean to be happy”. Before she could say the same phrase you spoke again “because life isn't always far but it can be amazing when it wants to be”. The girl didn't speak again she just pondered the words not completely understanding but wanting to show she was a big enough girl to get it. You could see a frown forming on her face, so you gently rubbed it away. “Don't worry, it's confusing for grown up too”.

The front door opened bringing an end to the conversation you two were having. The girl jumped off your lap running to her parents. She cuddles Nancy’s leg. You follow behind, thankful to see your friend only with a few scratches. You hug her too, quickly and carefully to not get in the way or kick Rosie. “That’s not far you can't look that pretty after a car accident”. She pushes you away. “Ha ha very funny”. You shake your head “I'm not joking” you look down at the little girl “see I told you, your mommy was Cinderella”. Steve straightens his back and pretends to flex his muscles “does that make me prince charming?” he made it too easy sometimes. “No, that makes you the pumpkin”.

Eddie and Dustin had been stuck in the car for an hour and a half, since the unexpected reveal, they hadn't said much. Or at least Eddie hadn't heard much, all he could think about was you. Which wasn't a change as you had been all he thought about since you came back, but these thoughts came with new feelings, guilt, and confusion. They finally pulled to a stop outside the dorms. Dustin was about to get out when Eddie put his hand out to stop him. “What should I do?”. Dustin shrugs “I don't think they are any answer for that, you are two broken people. I'm not sure even one of you can fix that, but maybe being nicer would be a start”.

Eddie nods, “when did you get so smart?”. Dustin smiled, the Eddie he knew and loved was there, even if it was only briefly. “I'm surprised I haven't lost brain cells being friends with you”. The man laughed, he couldn't even pretend to care about the insult. The thing is no matter if they bicker or fight the two were brothers nothing would change that. And only now the realisation was kicking in that Eddie had been so stubborn about feeling betrayed, that he had missed the time he could have spent enjoying his best friend's last weeks in town before he moved. Of course, he wasn't far and they would still talk. But he wonders how many problems he would solve if he should stop being so stubborn, believing he was always right when he never had any of the answers.

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@micheledawn1975

[hasanthehung]

The Meeting

It was late.

My eyes strained at the computer screen after the word-count completed. 70,000 words. "Only 50,000 more to go" I sighed. I removed my glasses, stretched my now permanently arched back and raised my hands above my head, letting them fall limp by my side, before standing up for the first time in hours.

I was in my final years of a Political Science PHD at Princeton. It was tough going - you just had to take a glance at my tiny apartment, the curtains constantly drawn to limit the presence of the outside world, the stacks of books and piles of paper strewn on any available surface and the boxes of take-out tentatively placed in the kitchen sink to guess.

Writing this damned thesis was just the tip of the iceberg. As a PHD candidate I had lectures to give, as well as being an advisor to 3 undergrads who were more interested in extra-curriculars than in anything the oppressed PHD students could offer them. I couldn't blame them -Christ, I had BEEN them just a few years ago. Those long-gone days of waking up with a constant hangover, arriving late to lectures and usually sleeping through them had been the key to the student bodies morale, after all.

I checked my phone. 4:35 AM. Shit.

I had a meeting at 9 AM with a new undergrad I would be advising, but wasn't too bothered about it. Knowing how these advisory sessions usually went, this student would turn up late and only because they had to, with nothing prepared and probably concealing a hangover.

I needed to sleep. Like, now.

The phone buzzed. 8:45 AM. Shit.

I leapt out of bed, quickly showered and dressed in my usual fit; an oversized black hoodie, baggy jeans and baseball cap - The hood pulled up over the cap to hide my identity from the faculty or any other passers by that would - for the billionth time - ask with the best of intentions, "How's the PHD going?"- That dreaded question again.

I jumped on my bike and landed outside the PolSci building late. I ran up the steps, through the corridor and swung the door open to find, with true astonishment, the student actually sitting patiently at my desk, his head bent, scrolling on his phone.

"Hi, sorry I'm late"

"Oh hey, uh," He stood up and turned towards me, quickly parking his phone in his back pocket.

"No problem, uh, I'm Hasan, nice to meet you"

I was immediately worried.

Why? Because this guy was so freakin hot. He was tall enough to play for the NBA, broad enough to play for the NFA and the way he played with his short dark hair nervously as he waited for my response was adorable.

I didn't need any more distraction in my life. I had 2 years to finish this PHD, for Christs' sake.

It took a moment for me to come to my senses. I pulled my rucksack from my shoulder and approached him, offering my hand.

Those eyes.

"Intense" was the word I'd landed on. Dark and brooding.

And on closer inspection, he was much older than the usual undergrads were- He looked like he was my age- in his 30's, at least.

"Hey Hasan, I'm your advisor. I haven't seen you around, you've just arrived at Princeton?"

"Uh, yea uhm...I've got a degree in Political Science and was hoping to do a PHD here, I was told you could help me get the lay of the land?"

"Oh, of course!"

I obviously hadn't prepped for this meeting at all, as I never do- the students usually don't give a crap.

Much later on, I'd check my emails to realise this meeting was supposed to be an overview of the PolSci faculty, a de-briefing of what to expect as a candidate, and that this potential student was one of the top political commentators in the U.S.

This was all news to me. Especially the part were the man standing in front of me was famous and a major player in shaping the minds of millions politically.

PHD students are known to be "out of the loop" in general. We're too busy to keep up with the culture. But man, did it ever make sense.

This guy was made for the worlds eyes to look at him, and as he continued to speak, with his precise and deliberate choice of words, not to mention his deep beautiful voice, was made for millions to listen to.

Realising that this wasn't the usual boring check-in with an undergrad, I began;

"Well, in that case, lets get out of here. I'll take you on a tour of the campus and I know a great place for coffee that's empty around now, and to be honest, I need one. That cool?"

"Uh..totally, thanks"

After playing tour guide for less that 15 minutes, it became clear that this wasn't the usual prospective PHD student. Every undergrad that passed by took a double take, their eyes widening in disbelief and I could hear them whisper his name to eachother;

"Hasan! it's HasanAbi!"

"No, it not!"

"Dude, it freaking IS Hasan!!"

Hasan noticed this, too. He pulled a cap out of his back pocket and fished a pair of sunglasses out of his boldly coloured shirt pocket, pulling the collar up over his chiselled jaw and bending his head low. Not that it helped much - he towered above everyone in the vicinity.

"Wow, people seem to know you. Are you famous or something?" I asked.

"You could say that, I guess. In certain circles."

He shifted his feet uncomfortably and spent a little too long fixing the position of his cap over his dark locks. I knew not to press further. He obviously didn't want to get into the details just then.

"... Do you want to get out of here?"

"That would be great, thank you"

"Well there's my place, It's just up ahead, if you don't mind the mess? You'll get an honest idea of what your life will look like if you choose to take on a PHD, at least."

He smiled and lifted his head a little, relaxing. "I spend a lot of my time inside as it is, it'll feel just like home" He said.

We arrived at the run-down apartment block and as I fumbled with my keys, I could feel him standing behind me, waiting for some privacy. There was a heat... An electricity that seemed to buzz between him and I...Or was I just imagining it?

He switched position to lean his broad shoulders against the wall beside me as he waited, he seemed to be checking me out, cocking his head to the side and tipping his sunglasses down a little, watching me with a smirk on his face.

"Here, let me take your bag for you" He offered.

He moved closer to me, gently touching my arm as he took the strap of my rucksack and swung it effortlessly over his shoulder.

Was it me, or did his large warm hand linger a little too long on my body? I could feel my arm tingle as if my body knew before I did that something magical was happening.

He didn't move away. He stood behind me again, one hand holding the strap of the rucksack on his shoulder, the other hand reaching over my shoulder and landing on the wall in front of me, supporting himself. His breath touched the back of my neck, making me shiver. I imagined in that moment him enveloping me between those strong shoulders, feeling his breath all over my body.

The door opened and we entered. I was trembling. Trembling because of what had just happened, and also in anticipation of what could happen.

Now it was my turn to feel nervous. I didn't know who this guy was, but he was obviously famous, he probably owned some giant mansion somewhere in a tax haven, and now he had to sit in my little shitty studio apartment.

I mumbled something like "eh..just move those papers and take a seat, drop them anywhere."

The apartment was dark - as usual I had neglected to open the curtains. I quickly turned on the two lamps I possessed, then moved to the window and began to open them, suddenly his hand landed on top of mine and he said "I prefer it dark."

I couldn't speak, let alone turn around. His hand lingered on mine, then slowly moved downwards to my wrist. He grasped my wrist and swung me around to face him. Our eyes locked. Those intense, dark, brooding eyes. He smiled, then let my wrist go and bent his head, stepping away, embarrassed.

He began to move around my apartment, taking it in in the dim light cast by the lamps. He took off his cap and tousled his hair, his gaze landing on the many political posters I had precariously plastered on every available wall - all of my heroes were represented - Chomsky, Finkelstein, Reich, along with my favourite slogans "Tax the Rich" and "Capitalism is Voluntary".

He laughed.

"Your a Socialist?"

I didn't know how to take this. He was obviously famous, so obviously rich. If he was a political scientist, his views probably landed more to the right, I assumed. Most likely a talking head on Fox News and a Trumpian, at that.

"So what if I am?" I affronted.

All at once, his demeanor changed. He looked at me from across the room, a desire in his dark eyes that startled me. He began to peruse the many piles of books that scattered the floor of the apartment. He picked one up then sat down on the couch, thumbing through the heavily ear-marked and highlighted pages.

"Michael Albert is a hero of mine..." He was holding Parecon, my most cherished text.

I didn't think I could be more surprised by this man.

"You've read it? It's not on any degree-level reading list I know of..."

He lifted his arm and rested it on the back of the couch, tilted his head to the side, biting his lower lip. He moved his eyes from mine, to my mouth, to the curves and edges of my body, and didn't say a word.

I had never felt more vulnerable in my life.

He looked shy all of a sudden. He let my copy of Parecon fall to the seat, stood up and moved towards me.

"I...I'm a socialist too." He whispered. His voice had such an effect on me. It lulled me into a state of total desire.

He stood in front of me, his eyes filled with dark passion, but seemed unsure of himself.

"I...I'm a little..." He muddled, but never finished. His shoulders slumped, he looked away for a moment, his head lowered, defeated. Then, in a moment of hope, perhaps, looked into my eyes again, through the mass of black hair that had fallen over them.

I moved closer to him. The heat wasn't imagined.

His breath grew heavy. He pulled me into his arms, he bent his head and devoured by neck, ripping open my hoodie. I felt his hands moving down my back, edging me closer to him. I folded my arms around his neck after working my hands through his dark locks, our mouths saying everything we couldn't.

It happened right there on the floor, in between the piles of books in the dim lamp light, with Chomsky, Finkelstein and Reich watching over us.

Later, when he had left, I opened my laptop. I typed his name gingerly into the search engine. Maybe he made it all up to get an easy lay. Maybe he was another centrist cog in the machine. Who reads Parecon these days, anyway?

Maybe he had been lying.

He hadn't.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Can you write a short story of Spider and Quaritch play wrestling?

sure! I really liked this idea from @naavispider of human Quaritch winning the war and raising Spider so I wanted to base this in that au. In my head the war ended in a soft victory for the R.D.A. Quaritch and Jake's fight ended in a stalemate with both sustaining heavy injuries. Jake's been underground ever since quietly rallying the other clans and preparing for war. The R.D.A on the other hand have been making moves for all out colonization. Of course they're building Bridgehead but also when Spider was around 4 they started incentivizing their workers to have kids to start building the next generation (and make more workers and soldiers for the R.D.A) Anyone who had kids was promised permanent residence on Pandora plus the choice to bring one family member to live on Pandora for each child they have. So there's a huge baby boom as people rush to try and save all their loved one from their dying planet.

All these kids grow up together in a daycare and eventually a school ran by some of the nurses so they're all really close. Since the nurses provide 24 hour child care a good chunk of people who had kids just to save their loved ones but never wanted to be parents just leave their kids there and barely ever have to see them.

Spider is the odd one out in all of this since he's significantly older than them. Paz still died in the war, so Quaritch was left as a single dad. He got really good at balancing work and fatherhood. He pretty much had his son with him all the time keeping him distracted with toys and such while he went about his work. he got so used to this by the time of the baby boom that he just kept doing what he was doing until Spider started kindergarten.

Also Spider is still called Spider in this au because his mom used to call him her little spider monkey to the point where is became the name he responded to. After she died Quaritch tried to get him to go by his "real" name but it just never happened. He'd only respond to Spider and so it became his nickname. it fit him better anyway.

Spider used to be his father's little soldier dutifully going about every combat lesson his dad would coach him through. Also he was still taught to speak Na'vi because everyone agreed it'd be a good skill for all the kids to know. The language was Spider's gateway into exploring more about the Na'vi. Now that he's 16 he's starting to see the cruelty of what the R.D.A is doing. He acts out a lot and causes as much trouble as possible.

Quaritch use to try punishing him for it but it never did any good. he's come to the mindset of President Theodor Roosevelt with his daughter "  “I can do one of two things. I can be President of the United States or I can control Alice." Quaritch is choosing to run Bridgehead and just leaves Spider to do what he wants more or less.

Anyway that was a long explanation for a one shot. So here you go enjoy!

*****************************************************************

  Quaritch walked into his apartment exhausted after a long day. Nothing but meeting after meeting, the C.E.O’s of the R.D.A always on his ass about something. Years ago it was that unobtanium wasn’t being mined in large enough quantities. Now it was that Bridgehead wasn’t being built fast enough. As if he controlled the speed of the builder drones. Take it up with your programmers, he had wanted to yell. But he held his tongue and took it. 

     “Spider, you here son,” he called out. No response. The teen must have been off somewhere causing trouble. Quaritch shrugged it off and went to cook dinner. Somebody would darken his doorstep soon enough with his wild child in tow. The father didn’t understand it. One day his son was the perfect, obedient little soldier. The next he was more untamable than the natives. He chalked it up to simple teenage rebellion and prayed to any god that would take him that it would go away soon. 

      “What’s for dinner?”

       “Holy shit,” Quaritch startled, fumbling his spatula into the chicken he was cooking, “where did y’a come from!”

      “Ah, my room,” Spider said, pulling his headphones down to hang around his neck.

      “Why didn’t y’a answer when I called y’a then?”

       The teen shrugged, “didn’t hear y’a.”

        Quaritch groaned in frustration, “where y’a at least doin’ your homework in there. Or anything productive at all?”

         “Does watchin’ porn count,” Spider couldn’t even say it with a straight face. Quaritch rolled his eyes. With all the restrictions the father had put on his son’s devices the boy wouldn’t be able to access anything like that even if he was a skilled hacker.

         “So your homeworks not done.”

         Spider waved him off, “I’ll do it after dinner. Promise.”

         “I’mma hold y’a to that.”

          It was Spider’s turn to roll his eyes, “Jesus dad I know.” Spider hung out in the kitchen, watching his father cook, waiting impatiently to be fed. “So how was your day,” he asked just to fill the silence. 

         “Boring. Nothin’ but meetings. I’m wishin’ the natives will try attackin’  just so I can have somethin’ to do.” Spider seemed slightly uncomfortable at that. His kid was too kind for his own good. No matter the lessons the father had tried to instill in his son, Spider always retained sympathy for the Na’vi savages. “Anyway it was borin’. How was your day?” Spider shrugged in response.“I’d like a…”

         “Verbal answer, yeah I know.” Quaritch would have scolded him for the back talk if his boy didn’t look so dejected.

         “What’s eatin’ y’a,” he asked as he plaited their dinner. His son just shrugged again. “Fine. Don’t talk then.” Quaritch was not satisfied to leave it at that. As his son moved to sit at their kitchen table Quaritch snuck up behind him snatching him up around his waist.

         “Dad!” Spider yelped in surprise.

         “Come on now tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help y’a if y’a don’t talk about it.”

          “There’s nothin’ to talk about,” Spider huffed as he struggled to free himself from his father’s hold.

          “I don’t buy that,” Quaritch marched them both into the living. “Are y’a mad at me for somethin’?”

         “What would I have to be mad about?” Spider grunted as he thrashed in his dad’s hold. 

          “I don’t know. You're a teenager. Y’a always seem mad about somethin’.” Spider found his opening, expertly twisting out of Quaritch’s arm. The father grinned, quickly tackling his son onto the soft carpeted floor. “Is there a girl?”

         Spider scoffed as he fought to win this unexpected wrestling match, “there’d have to be girls my age for there to be a girl.”

        “Is that what this is about?” Quaritch pinned Spider by his shoulders.

         The boy stilled. “Kinda. It’s…lonely being the oldest kid on base. Every day I see all the groups of younger kids, talkin’, and jokin’ around. And it looks like fun. Seein’ them though….just kinda makes me sad that I don’t have anyone my own age to be friends with.”

          Quaritch sighed. This wasn’t a new conversation by a long shot. Spider interacted with the other kids often enough but he was more of a big brother figure then a friend to them. His son could talk and joke with adults like he was one of them but the fact still remained that Spider was just a kid. Plus every adult in his life were like his aunts and uncles. They’d helped to raise him. Neither party could ever look past that. Until more cadets Spider’s age rotated to Pandora, his boy would alway be the odd one out. “I’m sorry son. I wish there was somethin’ I could do for y’a.”

         Spider shrugged, “is what it is.”

         “How can I cheer y’a up?” The teen shrugged. Quaritch groaned then began to playfully jab at his son’s sides. Spider laughed trying and failing to wiggle away.

         “Dad, stop,” Spider shrieked through his laughter. His father ignored his plees continuing his relentless assault on his sides. “Alright, alright, I give up!” Quaritch stopped giving his son a moment to catch his breath. He moved off of Spider and helped his boy to sit up. Spider took a deep breath then said, “can we just like- watch a movie together tonight or somethin’? You’ve been so busy lately, since Bridgehead started construction that….we really haven’t spent time together.”

         Quaritch felt his heart melt. He patted Spider’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face. “Nothin’ would make me happier son.” 

[wishful-seeker]

My simplified story of my CRPS and experience with ketamine.

I've had crps for 5 years now. I developed it at 18 years old after completing a triathlon and getting tendinitis in my knee, which became crps. Over the course of 2 years it spread to both knees, both elbows, and both wrists. For the past 3 years i have been mostly bedridden. I couldn't walk for more than 3 minutes and even when i did it was excruciating, i couldn't touch a computer, any video games, i couldn't write anymore, i could barely make art anymore, i had to stop writing in my journal and had to keep it on my phone because of my pain. I cannot even sit in chairs or drive or run or jump. I use a wheelchair when i leave the house. When it was its worse it felt like i was being burned alive. I remember days when feeling okay lasted literal seconds and then it was gone. I remember days being in so much pain i couldn't pick up my phone and my mom had to spoon feed me. Days where all i could do was lay in bed and think. I remember days when i desperately wanted to go outside and feel the sun, when i walked outside i would count to 10. I would soak up everything i could in those 10 seconds, the colors of the sky and the fresh air. When the time was up i went back to bed and couldn't do that again for another few days.

I started ketamine infusions a year ago, i was diagnosed last year. I had infusions before i was diagnosed. First we did a 2 hour infusion. It worked wonders, for six weeks i actually jumped on a trampoline for a few minutes almost everyday, i even climbed the low branch of a tree and sat on it. Then we did a 4 hour infusion. The results were not the same. I tried four more 4 hour infusions every six weeks, but there was no relief. I was devastated. I thought the universe was cruel to even give me such hope. Then i got diagnosed and i was told of a place in Clearwater Florida with dr. Hanna that did infusions differently. I went there and met him, he prescribed a 4 hour infusion every day for 10 days, 5 days, the weekend off, then 5 more days, he also prescribed oral ketamine, 30mg 3 times a day on the weekend, one at night on infusion days. I did that. It was the hardest thing I've ever been through. It felt like dying a thousand times. I almost gave up and left early because i hate the experience of ketamine so much. But after the fifth day my dad noticed me bouncing my leg when i was sitting, something i did all my life up until crps which made it too painful. Thats when we realized, since the second infusion, i was in ZERO pain, none at all. That continued until i got home and i had a flair. I always get a flair after infusions, this is very normal for me, but it was scary. I worried the hardest thing i had ever done wasn't worth it. The flair ended, and i tried playing minecraft, my favorite game I've been unable to play for years. I had a system: play for 20 minutes, rest for 20 minutes, and repeat. I played for HOURS. I tried again the next day and it was the same, and the day after that, and the day after that. Six weeks after Clearwater i had whats called a booster infusion, which was 2 days of 4 hour infusions. Then i went two MONTHS until needing my next infusions, which i had two weeks ago.

Here is what my life looks like now: im still in bed most of the time, but i do not think of the pain, it doesn't distract me. It used to be 7-10/10 now its 3-6/10. I play minecraft with my best friend almost everyday often all day. Last week i painted a dresser. I have a garden i lightly care for each day. After the infusions before this one i had a day where i was completely able bodied, i baked a pie, went to the park, transplanted plants and played minecraft. Not only this, but even when the infusions wear off it still has permanent beneficial effects. In the past, no ketamine meant i was taking 4 scolding hot baths a day to soothe the pain in my knees. Now no ketamine means bath some days, maybe 2.

It's over. I made it. I made it to a life i thought was impossible and its not even done getting better. I am happy. I am not suffering. I am regaining freedom. It. Is. Over.

[annah-kitathryne]

I was tagged by: @songbee-art (it won't let me tag just songbee)

1. Are you named after anyone? My first name is an old book character, and my second name is a derivative of my grandmother's name. My screen name is one I made up, and have started preferring to my legal name.

2. When was the last time I cried? Nearly cried when I had a freak out realizing I forgot to follow back friend. Before that a couple hours ago when deep topic hit deep.

3. Do I have kids? No. Don't want them either. I'm good at babysitting and watching kids for a few hours but get distracted and frustrated easily. I don't trust myself with them. Kids seem to like me though. I've been told I tell good stories and am patient when explaining things to them. I treat them like full humans?

4. What sports do you play/have you played? I played volleyball, did cross country running, softball, and skiing. Real jock here (not really there was nothing to do but sports where I used to live). Haven't played any since 2020 though. I use a bike though sometimes.

5. Do you use sarcasm? Never. I don't have a sarcastic bone in my body.

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone? How close they are in relation to me. I don't like anyone I don't know to be near me. Next thing is clothes.

7. Eye color? Blue and yellow (not two different eyes but mixed in both)

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Depends on mood, but a scary movie can have a happy ending. It's a chore to get to sit long enough to watch a movie though.

9. Any talents? I've been told I have some good writing skills. I can draw? I can analyze stuff? Idk.

10. Where were you born? In a hospital? Why, you need a recommendation? I live on the west coast.

11. Hobbies? Reading, writing, drawing, thinking, overthinking.

12. Any pets? I have a cat named Lilliana. We call her Lily Bones sometimes.

13. Height? Taller than average but shortest in my family.

14. Favourite school subject? Writing followed by history.

15. Dream job? Getting hired by DC, writing 6 issue solo serieses for Helena Bertinelli, Mia Dearden, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and than being assigned to a main Batbook where I can have my go at four part storyline. After my sucess I get put on a new project where I get all the creative freedom. I write a 20 issue maxi series on a preflash point alternate timeline where Bruce stayed dead. I then get to write a Tim Drake twelve issue maxi where I bring back Tim's civilian friends in a fun but serious story about starting to grow up, and by the end Tim has a new identity.

A job that makes enough that I can have enough money to eat three meals, have a warm shower, and live in a building that won't fall apart with a strong wind?

Tagg List: @uuuuutan @burritowitch @dc-said-bi-robin-rights @dearest-valentine @gretahayes @jpv-isms @jasongrey-redhood @mysteriousbeetle @milfkarazorel @porto-rosso @plutonicbees @sporkberries @saturnsickle @shiverblights @val-el

Sorry if you got annoyed by the tags. I more or less just went down the alphabet.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I watched Man Up (2015) a couple weeks ago, and I have been wanting to write a post about it ever since, because... how can I put this.

Man Up is a romcom that is structured in surprisingly classical ways. The action happens within roughly 24 hours. There's good twists and turns you don't expect. It has sweet quiet moments complemented by high emotion moments. The casting is really good in its aim for naturalism in both looks and performances.

But then... the movie shoots itself on the foot with...

sex and alcohol.

And you'll say "Scarlet, you are a prude!!!" Yes, I kinda am, but the fascinating thing is that it isn't about that? I don't think I've ever watched a romcom where these were problems at the level of plot and characterization in such an obvious, stark way.

Let's talk alcohol first because it will help me explain the plot at the same time.

We open with our main character, Nancy, trying to gather the courage to go to an engagement party. She gives up and orders some food and drinks from the minibar. She ends up going to the party where she has at least two mojitos. The next morning she has a mild hungover, and takes the train home for her parents' 40th wedding anniversary.

She accidentally meets Jack and they go on a date. They chat and drink beers and eat chips. He then takes her to a Mexican cantina where they do tequila shots and chat some more. Then he takes her to a bowling alley where they do bowling, eat some snacks, and drink some beers. Then they go back to the cantina, and bump into Jack's ex and her new partner. They have more beer, whiskey, and another tequila shot. Nancy then goes home to her parents' party, and Jack goes on another date, where he, of course, drinks another beer.

Even at these point and to the end, both characters look and behave completely sober.

Meanwhile, Nancy's sister, her husband, and their parents are preparing for the pary by... you got it... going to the store to purchase booze! An important part of a scene is about setting up the white wine sofa and the red wine sofa.

Looking for Nancy, Jack mistakenly crashes on a teen house party, where there's, of course, alcohol, and he holds a girl's hair while she vomits and he tells her of a hungover cure.

And I'm here like... it's not only a bit ridiculous that apparently Jack's alcohol resistance is over 2L of beer and 4 tequila shots combined, and he doesn't need to go to the bathroom and is perfectly capable of the fade-to-black sex at the end, but... what was the point? Why does this movie focus so much on alcohol and then never says anything about it? It's not a commentary on modern day hopelessness, addiction or consummerism or anything like that.

At what point of your screenplay writing you stop and think "mmm, isn't all this drinking becoming a little repetitive?" IDK. If it has no meaning, maybe switch the first date thing for ice-cream. Maybe they only have food at the Mexican cantina the first time they go there. IDK. But as it is, it is distracting.

Then, sex. The first one is classic and well known: the sex joke that is not a joke. The "writer thinks people saying embarrassing sex things in a public setting constitutes a joke". It's a truth universally acknowledged that a joke must have a set up and a punchline and that the relationship between those two must have a degree of absurdity to it that causes hilarity. "This situation IRL would make people laugh nervously because they'd be uncomfortable" does not constitute a joke, and is, as a general rule, not funny. Putting it several times into the story won't make it funny either.

Then there's... the stalker. Nancy has a stalker, and the movie attempts to play it for laughs. They went to school together. He knows where her parents live. He knows she has no social media. He's taken pictures of her in her bedroom that she didn't know of. He attempts to blackmail her into giving him sexual favors. THIS MOVIE TREATS THIS AS FUNNY IN THE YEAR OF THE LORD 2015.

Jack and Nancy are presented as opposites -Nancy is cynical, Jack is the hopeless romantic that opens his notebook in the middle of the date to write her name and surround it with heart doodles. No, that happens in the movie, really. There's also a running gag that whenever they dance his hands automatically go to her butt. He then grabs it in the middle of her parents' wedding anniversary party. In front of everyone. WHILE EVERYONE IS SPECIFICALLY LOOKING AT THEM. That's... that's not very character consistent, movie.

And then there's... the ending. There's this whole tension throughout the movie about how Nancy is supposed to be at her parents' wedding anniversary instead of her date with Jack. They lose each other when she's too quiet inviting him and he's too distracted to notice that she's inviting him to go with her. Her dad wonders if she'll bring him to the party and if the date won't be their anniversary as well. When Nancy's stalker pretends he's Jake, Nancy is framed as feeling alienated from the party. She comes back to herself to give her speech, and then Jack storms in the middle of it.

All this set up is building the importance of this family and this community as the framework where the kind of committed, trusting, vulnerable relationship Jack seeks and Nancy wants but is afraid of can flourish. Nancy's parents have been together for 40 years and they are happy and they have friends and family they love and are loved by! But the movie doesn't end with Jack being welcomed into this circle.

It ends with Jack and Nancy leaving the party to go have sex in a bathroom, and Nancy telling her stalker that she'll send him pictures. I kid you not. It's just so jarringly anticlimactic that way.

It was such a strange experience, because we often talk of the sex scene or sex-related scene that is there just to have it, but that contributes nothing to the plot and could have been cut without the movie losing anything, but in this case it actually made it a less cohesive, less consistent, less focused story just by being included. That's something alright.

[blossoms-phan]

hiiiii dear mutual! thxgiving has been okay ish, im currently eating food in my sisters room feeling a lil under weather but its okay ^_^ i rewatched what dnp text each other 4 like two ish days ago and it's been on my mind since... they're so silly and i can't WAIT for wdapteo 5!!! we haven't seen a wdapteo with them both being on tour since the original one, and also now they're like loudly gayer. i'm wondering if we'll see behind the scenes of calendar or no but seriously imagine it... etc. i dunno im just rambling but yeah ^_^

all im doing today is im going to finish this food go to my room, play some pokemon stuff while watching another content creator's vod. and then at like 9 pm i'll spend 4 hours in a frenzy writing phanfic again :)

im starting to hope theyll go on tour again in the future bc i do actually want to meet them with every passing day, but i cant believe i got to see them at TIT at all! that's so cool! im also wondering what they're going to do for the holidays? i hope not a full gamingmas that sounds like wayyyy too tiring for them, but! insta stories... maybe dan tags along to another lester thing...

okay that's enough of my yapping i hope that was good o7. HOW ARE YOU!!!!! how has your day been??? what's on your mind???

xo mare astradyke :)

HELLO MY BELOVED MARETUAL <3333 this is the exact kind of ask i wanted tysm for the yap :3 wdapteo 4 was literally my most rewatched video this year according to youtube lmao so it's safe to say i LOVE it, absolutely solid rewatch choice and i also cannot WAIT for wdapteo 5!! they're just suuuch good videos with silly bants/insight into daily dnp shenanigans obviously and i think there will be good tidbits this year maybe with tour planning and stuff?? and it's like the one video we're pretty much guaranteed at this point (i remember last year when i had lost hope we would get it and then we did! with a mention of "next installment") so yeah that is also defo keeping me going rn.

that sounds fun i hope the food is yummy!! i'm excited to see what you're working on, that's a solid fic writing time i also was sat in front of a doc from 9pm to like. 3am last night (that sounds like i was absolutely grinding away but a lot of breaks to curate my playlists and stress so very little actual writing lol) but gonna try again today. i literally go to sleep thinking about them and then dream of them the phannie brainrot goes crazy but it's also fun :3

i feel the same way omg, sometimes it's still sooo hard for me to conceptualize that i actually saw them irl?? this year?? they're real?? didn't get to meet them but would also love to one day, they're so pretty even from a distance. even with all the tit discussions we have on here and seeing so many friends/moots/whoever on here describe their experiences i try not to forget just how grateful i am for still being here in the phandom that i got the opportunity to see such an incredible show, them as their happiest and most open and free selves, it's so cool<33 with the way they've been talking in interviews i have soo much hope about the future, that there's fun stuff coming after the tour too and just. how cool is that!! i honestly hope they just have a relaxing break with their families they deserve it, but yes insta stories would be everything and im still hung up on that story of phil's mum giving dan snowballs while he was editing at their house at christmastime like dan and the lesters is so dear to me <3

i yapped SO much in return omg lmao but im okay! very unexciting non holiday day for me over here lol, went grocery shopping and that's pretty much it. i'm looking for a job rn so the stress of that is kinda always lingering in the back of my mind and it's driving me a liiitle crazy but hopefully something comes up soon! i need a phupload to distract me from the horrors </3

thank you for sharing and enabling me to yap in return friend i hope you have an amazing night!!!!! ^_^ <3333

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Return of the Lord of Bloodshed

A/N: When I heard they were making a Cassian Appreciation Week I was literally jumping with joy. My favorite Illryian boy is getting his own week! AWESOME! I’m so happy for him. This is technically for Day #6 which is Lord of Bloodshed. This took 4 hours to write. Anyway, you wanna know why he earned that title? Yeah, me too!

@cassianappreciationweek

Summary: Cassandra, Silvia, and Nora (Nessian’s first daughters) had just finished a scouting mission for the Night Court. However it all takes a tumble when Cassandra is reported captured. What is Cassian to do when he finds out his little girl is lost?

“Cassandra? Cassandra!?” Nora desperately tried to call her eldest sister on the comm link placed in her ear.

It was suppose to be a simple mission. Get in. Get the information provided for the case. Get out. No surprises. No weird distractions. And definitely no guys in black suits trying to drag you away from a crowded night club. No, definitely not that.

Cassandra Archeron was the second oldest of all of the Night Court’s children. She was also the most skilled Valkyrie in all of Velaris. Trained under both her mother and father, Nesta and Cassian Archeron. She was also the Night Court’s best spy and soon to be Sergeant of the Illryia army. So when her uncle offered her a mission in the Autumn Court, Cassandra would not describe how loudly she squealed in his office. Cassandra practically begged her parents to let her and her sisters perform this mission for their family, promising that if she were ever in real trouble, she’d contact her family immediately. Agreeing without a second though, Cassandra rushed into hers and her sisters’ room practically cheering.

After hearing the big news, the three of them all squealed and hugged each other, each of them already planning on who was going to do what. Cassandra decided that she would be in the field. She was a good actress, practice etiquette with her mother (not including any harsh treatment), and was taught the best strip dancing from her aunt Mor. She also did plenty of research of the Autumn Court’s best Night club titled, “Boobs and Nudes”. Yeah, you can see where it got it’s name.

Silvia decided to be the look out. She was the one to stay at home but would get a clear view of the club through it’s security cameras. Not even the most skilled technicians could get past her. Silvia would guide Cassandra as to were she will go and who to talk to. She would tell her who she’s speaking with and which choice of words she had to say in order to please them. She would also warn her in case if they were armed with any weapons.

Nora was the back up. Like her sister, she is also skilled in her Valkyrie training as well as spy training. However, her skills are not equal to her older sister’s. It still didn’t mean that they never needed her. They were triplets. They always needed each other. Nora is on stand by but on the field. In case Cassandra were to be in trouble and Silvia could not do anything to stop it, Nora would be the second line of defense. She would either cause a distraction, or find a way to make everyone leave a certain place without causing any harm. She is also the only one of them that has a direct line to the Night Court. Because they don’t wanna risk being track, the other lines are turned off and Nora’s line is only connected to the Night Court. If something big were to come up, she would send a distress signal to her family, or to anyone if they would listen.

Now, Nora was that line of defense. Cassandra had walked into the club 35 minutes ago. It had be 20 minutes since she last responded to her sister, saying that she had to call them back. That’s when Silvia and Nora knew that something was wrong. You never hang up your comm until the mission was done. Never. For the past 20 minutes, the two sisters tried to call her but no one answered. The line immediately went dead. “Cassandra! Cassie, pick up!”

“Nora?”

“Sis, I know you’re there!”

“Nora!”

“Say something!”

“NORA!” Nora flinched as the loud sound that filled her left ear. The second oldest, Silvia, was on the line back home in Velaris and from the sound of her own voice, she was just as frightened as her sister. “Nora, she’s not gonna answer.” she simply replied as she heard Nora groan on the other line. “She said she was gonna be quick. She said-”

“I know what she said.” Silvia interrupted. She knew Nora was scared. So was she. But until they find out where Cassandra wandered off to, she was the older sister. She had to be the strong one for Nora. She had to be the voice of reason. She had to tell her it was gonna be okay even when she knew it wasn’t okay. She had to let her sister know that they couldn’t freak out like this. That they couldn’t fall apart. They are stronger together.

“Silv, what do we do?” Nora whispered, a whimper following close behind. Silvia didn’t answer right away, looking through all of the security cameras outside of the club. “Cassandra got into a car with 3 other men 20 minutes ago. It’s a black SUV and it’s heading South on Kraken Drive.” Silvia explained. “We can’t get there on foot.”

“So, what do we do?” Nora asked again. Silvia knew what they had to do. Only one person could find them in a situation like this. Only one person can find a girl who was captured by a famous gang. Only one person can pick them up without getting questioned from the media. That person was the person who trained them ever since they learned how to walk. Who helped them with their homework while their mother was training the next group. Who sat through every tea party whenever they finished their homework. Who sat with them when they were all sick and couldn’t go to school. Who grounded them for 2 weeks when they snuck out to a party in Windhaven along with their cousin Nyx. Who dragged one of them out of a bar because they were drunk and broken hearted. Who sat with them when one of them lost their fiance to a spear in the head. Who made chocolate chip pancakes for all 10 of them on Saturday’s mornings.

Yes. Silvia knew that person by heart. “Nora, listen me. I need you to get dad.”

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

It was currently 3:04am in Velaris. The perfect time for everyone in the House of Wind to be asleep. Both sets of twins have finished their homework and the 2nd set of triplets were finally asleep (for the next 5 minutes at least). Cassian and Nesta had just finished their usual sex thrill while they waited for their other triplets to cry because one of them (or all of them) need a diaper change.

Yes, this was their current routine as they slept peacefully in their beds. So you can imagine Cassian’s surprise when he received a call from one of his eldest daughters.

The ringtone was loud but not loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. Just loud enough for the parents. Nesta had groan first. “I swear if Rhysand left Kazar’s favorite toy in this house again?” she yawned as Cassian rolled over and aimlessly grabbed his phone. He blinked multiple times to adjust his eyes to the brightness. “It’s Nora. I’ll call her back.”

“Did she send you a text?” Nesta asked surprising her mate. Cassian looked through his text messages and saw 12 unread messages in Nora’s tab. Cassian immediately picked up the phone. “Sweetheart?”

“Dad!? Goddammit, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

“First of all, language. Second, the messages were only 10 minutes ago.” Cassian argue though he knew it was pointless when it came to his third daughter. “It’s 3 in the morning and your mother and I have to be up by 4. What’s going-”

“Someone captured Cassie.” Whatever Cassian was going to say next, had died on his lips. His daughter. His first born. The one that he personally had told her to always and forever protect her sisters from any harm. The person he had trained the most to withstand any combat training. Any block. Any jab. Any kick. This was the Archeron who knew how to fight. And yet, when the day came for her to go out in the field for the first time, he still had an unsettling feeling about it. Especially in the Autumn Court. He knew that the Night Court and the Autumn Court weren’t the best of friends. He knew that the High Lord was a bastard ruler/father. He knew that if she or any of her sisters for that matter were caught by the High Lord himself, it would mean hell for the Night Court.

But mostly, for the Autumn Court.

Without wasting another moment, Cassian got off the bed and proceeded to find his siphons. Startled, Nesta sat up from the bed. “Cass, what’s wrong?” Cassian did not look at his wife, struggling to put on his pants and still holding the phone to his ears. “Tell me everything right now.”

“Cassian, what’s going on?” Nesta asked getting a good look at her husband’s face. Seeing the look of fear, she knew that whatever Nora had told him, it wasn’t good. “Honey?” she spoke softly. Cassian, now fully dressed, calmly walked over to his wife. “Someone has our daughter.” Immediately, Nesta’s expression turned from worry to anger. “Who?”

“Gabriel Reign.” Nesta turned to Cassian’s phone not realizing he had put it on speaker. Nesta knew without a doubt that it was Nora. “Nora baby? What happened?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is that Gabe found Cassandra at the club and persuaded her to come into his car. That was 30 minutes ago. She hasn’t called since.” Nora explained as Cassian grabbed his sword that rested on his work desk. “I’ll be their soon. Let me know if anything changes, sweetheart.” Cassian reply to his daughter, hanging up the phone.

Just as his hand grasped the doorknob, Nesta pulled his back. “I’m coming with you.” Cassian wanted her to go. He really did. This was his wife. The mother of all 10 of their daughters. The women who beheaded the King of Hybern. The women who drove a sword through the women that almost killed him. The women who went through hours of labor just to bring all of his wonderful daughters into this beautiful yet broken world. The women that he promised to spend the rest of his life with. And the women who became one of the first Valkyries to ever be risen again.

Yes, he desperately wanted to bring her along to save their daughter. But only one reason held him back from saying ‘yes’. “Nesta, I much as I want to see you tear whoever dares to touch our children apart, and believe me I really do, I can’t let you go. Not because I don’t think you can handle yourself,” he quickly added when Nesta opened her mouth to interject. “But their are 7 other daughters in this house waiting for us. And I don’t want them to wake up and see that we’re both gone.”

Nesta closed her mouth and grumbled under her breath. She knew he was right. Someone needed to stay behind for their other children. But before she could let her husband fly off to his daughter, she grabbed his face and kissed his viciously. “Promise me that you will bring her back. And promise me that you’ll both be okay.” Cassian knew he couldn’t promise that. That he didn’t know if he’ll find Cassandra. But he did know this:

The day someone dared to kidnapped his daughter is the day the Lord of BloodShed comes back for a second serving.

Cupping Nesta’s face in his hands, Cassian kissed her forehead. “I promise.” he told her. One long last hug and Cassian winnowed himself to the Autumn Court.

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

Cassandra opened her eyes for the first time in what felt like hours. When Reign had taken her, he mentioned that it was a time for him to ‘catch up’ on lost times. Cassandra had known Reign since her early 20s. The two of them were at each other’s odds for years. The same went by as usual. He’d find her, beg her to join his gang, and hoped it will be an acceptable answer. Cassandra never gave him the final offering. Instead, she would always beat the hell out of his men, and even him. The last time she saw him, he had a broken nose and a messed up jawline. She still smiled at the memory when he cried bloody murder.

When she saw him at Boobs and Nudes, she figured it was another attempt to win her heart. A foolish little game of Tango. A game where Cassandra would always step on his toes. She smirked when she saw him and laughed at his attempt again foolishly allowing her guard to slip. Not realizing that Reign was through laughing. That he was through playing there little game of Tango. When she had stopped laughing, she finally took notice of the two guards that were standing behind her. Their hands were grabbing her arms before she could turn around.

She would’ve taken them on. Killed them even. But then, she looked back at Reign. His expression was boiling hot with rage, making her completely nervous. When the 4 of them walked out of the club, Cassandra was forced to secretly turn off her comm and climb into the black SUV. They drove South. Way South. The windows were tinted apart from the front window, but she was too far away to get a look as to where she was going. When Reign’s guards forced her out of the car, they placed a cloth over her mouth, the Illryian woman passing out before she hit the ground.

Finally coming to, Cassandra noticed that her hands were chained to the wall over her head and she was stripped down to nothing but her under garments. Normally, she’d try to cover as best as she could, but with her arms in the air, she only managed to bend her knees. She screamed, feeling the fire that burned through her body. The fire that believed to her mother, but was genetically reduced to bold red from her father. She screamed and screamed until one of the guards came in and punched her square in the face. She couldn’t help but laugh, taunting the faerie guard. He punched her again. Again. 4 times. 5.

Still Cassandra did not falter. She held her head up high like her mother always taught her. She remembered how her mother had said to never bend your head down. She was a queen with a crown. She took those words to heart, never letting anyone tell her differently.

However, in this case, it was almost impossible to heed her advice.

After the punching stopped, Reign came in when a tray table that rolled with a creepy ‘creak’ noise into what Cassandra figured was a cell. Upon that tray were tools. Tools designed for torture. Reign personally picked up a small dagger from the tray and stabbed it deep through Cassandra’s left arm, slowly dragging it up to her wrist. The pain hurt like a bitch, but Cassandra did not scream. Reign did it again to the right arm, smirking when Cassandra accidently let out a small squeak of pain. Next, he moved on to her stomach, taking a knuckle brass and punching as hard as he could. 3 punches were landed. Nothing. Not even a whimper.

Reign shouted in anger, making Cassandra smile. “You think that’s funny? I’ll wipe that smile off your face.” Reign held up to that. Putting the brass down, he grabbed something huge. It was a long spear that was even taller than him. For the first time, Cassandra really looked at the weapon. It was the same weapon that took the life of her future sister in law. She still remembered Silvia’s scream when she told came home and told her family about her death. Olivia, she remembered. That was her name. She’ll never forget her sister’s face when she made a promise to kill the man who murdered her fiancé.

Cassandra was lost in thought, she was completely un prepared for the intense pain that crashed into her right wing. Reign had driven the spear through her wing. She felt it piercing through her leather wing and heard a crack. She looked from the corner of her eye and saw blood slowly falling down her wing. It fell to the floor like a deadly storm that rained blood. Cassandra did the one thing she promised herself not to do. The one thing that would make her look weak. The one thing that she swore she would never do whenever someone were to torture her like this.

She screamed.

The scream was dreadful. It made her ears pop with the deaf of the scream itself. She tried to stop the tear from clouding her eyes, but she lost the battle and allowed them to fall. She cried out to no one as the pain increased through her body. Reign laughed the image of the tough woman that refused him for so long finally bending her knees for him. “Some advice, Cassandra.” he had told her as he lifted her head to face him. “Never, say no to me.”

Reign had left her there to bleed out. Cassandra didn’t have enough energy to fight back. She reluctantly closed her eyes, hoping the pain would leave in a few hours.

It didn’t.

By the time Cassandra was awake, she realized two things. One, she was still in the cell. Two, her wing was broken. Not clipped, broken. Cassandra knew about how women were treated in Illryia, the stories haunting her at night whenever she went to sleep. How he described the methods of abuse a majority of women had to go through. The types of tools that they used to clip their wings, grounding them to the floor forever. She remembered her father having to tell her this so as not to take her heritage in vain. She never did.

And she never will.

Cassandra was grateful that Reign did not have those tools. She looked at her right wing. The pain was still very much intense, but it was already starting to heal. She stretched it out very slowly, seeing how far the wing can go. It stretched to about half an inch before the pain continued. “Damn.” she cursed silently.

Cassandra heard a door burst open, startling her completely. Their she saw Reign running straight to her cell. “You fucking bitch!” he spat as he opened the cell without a second thought. Reign, shaking, took out the keys and released Cassandra’s arms. Cassandra’s expression was filled to the brink with confusion. “Uh...what the fuck?” Reign forced her to her feet and pushed her out of the cell. “Come on.”

“Reign, what’re you-”

“Shut up!” Cassandra did not take the insult to heart. She was most concern as to why he was suddenly releasing her. She remembered how he always said that he’ll never let her go free. That she’ll always be his. That no one else could have her. So why was he suddenly letting her go?

After a couple of minutes of walking, her questions were answered. They had made their way to the main hall of wherever she was. There laid 23 men dead. They were either beheaded, stabbed, shot, or killed from brute force. Some of bodies weren’t even in one piece. Cassandra found an arm on a broken chair, a leg inches away from that same chair, a torso 3 feet away from her, and a head that had it’s eyes popped out. Their blood was all over the place, not missing a single spot in the area. Cassandra would’ve been shocked had she not lifted her head.

Directly in front of her was her father. His body was flaring with undeniable rage. He was holding his sword that was smeared with blood. His armor also had blood on it, mainly on his shoulder and elbow. Cassandra couldn’t read his face sense his back was turned. He was talking to two of Reign’s guards. The only two that were alive.

Cassandra heard her father’s voice. “I’m gonna ask you one last time,” It sounded vial and threatening. The same voice he would use whenever she knew she was about to be in trouble. It made a chill crawl up her spine. “Where. Is. My. Daughter!” The guards shook under her father’s frightening gaze. She knew exactly what they were seeing. She almost felt sorry for them.

“Dad!” she cried, her father instantly turning around at the sound of her voice. For a moment, the two of them locked eyes and they were both back in the house. For a moment, she remembered when her father first taught her how to use a sword. How he would held with her stance. How he would correct her whenever she got it wrong. How he would tickle her whenever she pouted about not being able to block the attack. How he gave her an extra chocolate chip pancake when she was too sick for school one day.

She remembered all of it. And so did Cassian.

Cassian smiled upon seeing his daughter. He would’ve swooped her up and the two of them would fly back home together regarded of her having wings. But his expression changed when he noticed the giant hole in her wing. Immediately, his gaze turned from relief, to horror, and another second later, rage.

“Who did that to you?” It took a moment for Cassandra to realize that he was talking to her. “Re-”

“No one.” Cassandra was cut off by Reign who looked terrified. Cassandra opened her mouth to tell her father the truth, but in a blink of an eye, Cassian was already inches away from both of them, his hand around his daughter’s waist and a sword pointing at Reign’s neck. Cassandra could’ve sworn her father’s eyes were glowing just as bright as his siphons. “I. Didn’t. Ask. You.” Cassian told Reign who whimper silently. That was no empty threat. It was a command. Cassian glared at Reign, daring for him to speak.

When he looked back at his daughter, his rage softened. “What were you saying sweetie?” Wrapping her arms around her father’s neck, Cassandra continued. “It was Reign. Gabriel Reign.”

“Where is he?”

“Currently pissing his pants in front of you.” Cassandra replied as her father realized that the man was Reign himself. Cassandra was right. His pants were filled with piss. With a huff, Cassian kissed his daughter’s forehead. “Gimme one moment, peanut.”

That was the only response Cassandra received before her father drove his sword through Reign’s head, instantly killing him. Cassandra saw Reign’s body fall to the floor. The first time Cassandra killed someone, she went numb. She didn’t cry. She didn’t make a sound. Just went numb for a month. When her father went to check on her, he found her in her closet crying silently in a pile of dirty laundry. Instantly, he swept her up with ease and sat down with her, placing her in his lap. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” he said the same words to her when she was a baby and couldn’t stop crying. It always worked like a charmed. Soon, she was leaning in her dad’s chest, listening to his warm heartbeat. By the time she woke up, her father told her that she slept like a baby for the first time in a while.

Now, she can look at a dead body with ease, though the process does haunt her every once in a while. “Uh, dad?” she asked, mentally cursing herself for the crack in her voice. Cassian raised his sword and placed it back in the handle. He rushed to her side, seeing that her expression read terror, but tried to cover it with fake humor. “Sorry about that baby. Didn’t know you turned around.”

“It’s fine, dad. I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna accept that lie.” Cassian replied as his daughter tried to protest, but one look of authority from the Lord of Bloodshed and she was grateful she was only his daughter. Wisely keeping her mouth shut, Cassandra allowed her father to examine her damaged wing. “It’s broken.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Cassandra remarked earning a twitch from her father’s mouth. Cassandra returned it, turning her head to the two guards. “What about them?” she asked as Cassian followed her gaze. The guards quickly raced out of the room before the two Illryians could think on what to do with them. “We’ll worry about them later. You, young lady will be on mandatory bed rest. No flying for you. Or training.”

“Who died and made you my doctor?”

“The man who raised you. And those other 20 men.” Cassian swiftly replied referring to the guards he just killed. Cassandra rolled her eyes, knowing her father was right. “Can we at least fly back home? Like we use to?” Cassandra whispered the last part, suddenly finding the floor more interesting. Cassian heard her.

He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his daughter laughing when he took her on her first flight. They stopped doing it when Cassandra turned 25, claiming that she was too old to be carried and that she could fly. But their was no doubt in Cassian’s mind that her daughter didn’t miss those memories. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Sorry about this, but it’s is me moaning again.

I dunno. I am so worn out.

Everything is broken or breaking. Everything needs work. I can’t afford to fix or replace anything, and the basics of things like “shelter” are getting rather conceptual rather than real.

My body is failing me, and has so much wrong at once I don’t even think my standard answer to how I’m doing of “surviving” is true anymore. Like, the clock is ticking on when I break down for good. It can be summed up as: on physical/health level a pretty bad.

I need proper exercise, like not working on stuff, but like my walks in the woods. I miss the woods. I used to go every single day, and now I haven’t even been managing once a week!

I don’t have time for just being with animals, so they only see me when I feed them or give them medicine. I feel guilty all the time.

You know, I haven’t taken pictures of my sculpting for over three weeks now. I haven’t even taken a single photo in a week…a WEEK! ME! Who had been taking 5,000 photos a month! I carry my camera but I never have time or energy or focus or…I dunno, I just don’t care.

I haven’t gotten any sculpting ready to sculpt with. This little bit of old stuff will take forever to grind back into usable, and if I didn’t have to make an Easter gift for Mom I think I might just give up. It’s no fun with sculpey that crumbles and won’t stick, that has given my thumbs and fingers huge calluses, and I’ve no energy to waste making this god awful crap.

But I’ve gotta make something for Mom. I have no ideas and awful sculpey that won’t even let me attach ears on a damn rabbit! I’m really stressed about this…

Long ago I gave up writing except for my nightly journal entry. Even that has gotten to be more of a laundry list of my day since my life got too wrecked for contemplation. I haven’t missed a night since I was in my late teens, but for the last five months I’ve been falling asleep writing almost every single night! It’s gotten so bad that I am falling asleep before I finish writing about even my morning.

Then I wake up, at 3 or 4 am with a light burning my eyes, ink all over me, an a deep sense of fear and despair overwhelming me. I lie awake for hours, desperately trying to distract my brain from feeling like I’ve fallen out of a plane without a parachute.

Six hours of sleep. No matter how early I go to bed, or late I lie in, I can’t seem to get more than 6 hrs of sleep! I dream about sleep when I actually do dream.

I miss dreams. Proper dreams. I used to have the most amazing dreams.

I also miss daydreaming. I used to do that ALL the time. My hands could be busy but I could still conjure other worlds. . I loved being cozy in bed just so I could imagine, and now I lie there and worry. I can’t even daydream in that most perfect of settings!

Hell, I can’t think. As a child when people asked my favorite thing to do I’d say “thinking” first. Now it’s like there is no space or energy left over. Am I getting stupid too? I feel like I am. I certainly can’t focus.

That includes focusing on movies. I used to watch a movie every single night. Now even when I watch one I feel like it slides right out of my head. I “watch” it enough to tell you the gist of the plot but it’s like a partially over heard voice rather than a conversation.** I do a lot of “I think I’d like it, but I need to rewatch it when I can actually, you know, watch…”

I keep forgetting things. I understand why. I have soooo many things to do, new things get added every damn day, I have only one me to do it all, and this me is exhausted. Of course I forget things. But it still bothers me.

Today I remembered I had forgotten the new book to start reading Mom. I’d left it at her house yesterday, having picked it out before spending the next three hours working on stuff. So I went around there to get it to read it when I called her, but it turned out I had also forgotten where I put it. (In my defense, I’d set it on top of a stack of stuff I’d been sorting out, and when it fell over I’d been too tired to pick it up right then. It was kinda out of sight, out of mind under the pile) Then, when I went to call Mom it turned out I had forgotten to charge me phone! So today Mom never got her call because I’m a forgetful idiot!

I’m terrified I am going to forget to pay this one bill by the end of the month. I have to save the money for it out of my grocery funds, so it’s going to be after next week’s shopping trip before I can pay it. Until then I have it set up on the stove, which, yeah, is a bit of a hazard, BUT at least I have to look at it every day.

I have to look at it every day. My chest tightens when I look at it. And this is a doable bill! I just have to spend a few weeks with mac-n-cheese or bean soup. Imagine what it would be like if I had gotten the car worked on, like I need to, or if I went to a doctor, like a normal sensible person would do?

Sorry. I don’t suppose there is a point to all this. I’m tired, I feel rotten, my life is getting more precarious by the day, I am mostly not doing any of the things I enjoy, and not having fun when I try to. I have no money or energy or time. And, being isolated and alone in all this, I vent on my silly blog where people are trying to enjoy two year old snow pics without having to put up with my constant whining!

LOL/**sobs**

(And now I’m thinking of all the asks, comments, and messages I haven’t replied to yet. Geez! That makes inflicting this on you folks even worse!!)

**Movies are like conversations, at least if you do it right. Watching isn’t a passive experience as you let yourself go “into” the movie. It doesn’t matter if you hate it and mock it, or adore it and are inspired. Your watching reacts. You aren’t watching the “same” movie as the person sitting next to you, because you bring your experiences, personality, and so forth to it. The object of the movie is incomplete without a viewer, but each viewer completes it with themselves. Not explaining this well….