#SOMEONE EDITED A WHOLE ASS FAMILY FOR CHASE AND SOMEONE ELSE SAID THAT HES THE CHASE FROM THE AGENTS LINE THAT WIKI PAGE IS MY LIFE

[clutchpowers]

halfbreeddege asked: I don't know who the hell's in charge of the LCU Wiki but they got Chase marked as the next Ice Ninja for some crazy reason. Aw heck, now I kinda want to see that for poops and giggles.

"Bring the chills!" (his exclusive battle quote before fighting)

[xwing-baby]

Living The Dream (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

For #WriterWednesday hosted by @autumnleaves1991-blog​

Summary: A new house, dog and a baby on the way, Javier’s life couldn’t get any more perfect... its a dream come true.

Word count: 1.6k (good things come in small packages)

Warnings: Angst (cus duh), blood and injury description, mentions of pregnancy, dog death, hardly edited.

Masterlist

—

A tiny little house in the country, with a dog and a child on the way, was not how Javier thought his year would end but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the chaotic and dangerous life he led he never thought he would settle for more than two minutes let alone marry someone. You’d snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere to drag him into domesticity. Drag is the wrong word because he willingly went despite how much he pretended to drag his feet. He fell into it comfortably, he was even the one to suggest the house in the first place. You were happy in his apartment in Bogotá but Javier traded you a dog and you couldn’t say no.

A house, a girl, a dog. All he had ever wanted. Everything he swore he did not deserve but he could not imagine anything else now. Everything felt a little more manageable when he could come home to you. His own little oasis away from all the devils that haunted him in Bogotá or Medellín .

Javier planned to show Steve the new house on the drive back into Bogotá . You’d moved in a few weeks ago and everything was basically unpacked now, Javi was desperate to show off to his partner and could barely wipe the smile from his face as he pulled in.

The house was an old farmhouse, covered in iconic white plaster and red tile. The surrounding farm land had been sold off years ago, but left the house with a sizable garden around it to do whatever you wanted. There was enough for the baby to happily grow up and play in when the time came, for now the dog just chased rats through the long grass.

It was a mess when you bought it, but you were handy enough to get on with decorating and fixing up holes in walls while Javier was away working. He loved that part. Though he never admitted it, he always worried about you when you were working in the city. He never knew where you were until you came home. It was a lot easier to keep you safe, in his mind, with you at the house all day. You had done a fantastic job. For someone who claimed to have never even painted a wall before, the house was looking nice. It was becoming a home.

He called your name as he entered expecting to hear your music floating through the house. Instead he was met with silence.

“Must be asleep,” Javi said to Steve, “Pregnancies kicking her ass already,”

“Still can’t believe you’re gunna be a dad, man,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll get Connie to give y’all some baby books when she comes over,”

The two men chatted about the house, the baby, and everything else that had once seemed so out of the question for Javier but was now commonplace. He pulled beers from the fridge, cracking each open before sliding it across the patio table to sit and enjoy in the sunshine. They didn’t have anything to get back to urgently. The stop was justified and needed.

“Where’s that mutt of yours?” Steve asked looking around. In the weeks before the house was liveable, Javi had kept the dog at the apartment and used the Murphy’s as dog sitters whenever needed. Steve was excited to begin with but became a little more ambivalent when he ate his shoes one day. He was very happy when you moved him out to the house permanently.

“Must be with Y/n, they’re inseparable at the moment. In fact I will go check on her, she’ll be pissed if you leave without her seeing you,” Javier emptied his bottle and stood up. Steve chuckled and nodded.

Javier hadn’t been around the house as much as you had. Every time he had been you’d been close by making some kind of noise, a radio on somewhere in the house playing music with you singing along to it. He wasn’t used to it being quiet. It made the whole house seem so much bigger.

He walked upstairs to your bedroom, noticing the photos you had put up while he was gone. Simple wooden frames held photos from your wedding, photos of your family, and his favourite photo of you and him, taken by Steve candidly on the first day you had met. No one knew then just what would come from that one conversation but he was so happy it had led him here.

He pulled himself out of the fond memory and continued along the hall to your shared bedroom. The door was open, sunlight streaming in through half drawn curtains, the entire house was still. He smiled to himself, knowing that behind the door would be one of his favourite sights. He did not doubt that he would find Ringo, the dog, and you curled up on the bed. As much as Javi protested that the dog couldn’t sleep in your bed he knew you let him in as soon as he left in the morning.

Javier called your name again, listening carefully as he crept into the room. A full laundry basket sat on the floor, underwear and socks scattered the wooden floor boards. The drawers were open. You never left things untidy like that. Javier wasn’t the most untidy person in the world but you kept everything pristine. You wouldn’t just take a nap mid task. He frowned and touched the door to push it open.

“Peña!” Steve suddenly called urgently from downstairs. Javi knew that tone, instantly putting him on alert. You could wait for a moment. Javier stopped and turned back, leaving the door as it was and jogged back downstairs.

He came outside to see Steve, white as a sheet with grief written across his face.

“What is the-,” Javier started as he walked towards his partner. Steve brought him around the side of the house and Javi looked down and saw what was bothering him, “Oh fuck,” Javi swore the entire world stopped in that moment. Poor Ringo, shot in the head where he stood around the side of the house, just left without a care on the ground.

“I found him like that I swear! I am so sorry man,” Steve quickly explained. Javier wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but alarm bells, his mind only thinking of one thing. You.

In a second Javier turned and ran back inside the house, picking up his gun from the kitchen counter where he’d left it. Steve followed quickly, keen on his heels. Javier knew exactly where to look, running up the stairs three at a time. He barrelled into your shared bedroom, praying that you were asleep and the dog was just an accident.

If his world had slowed at the sight of the dog the entire universe had stopped now. 

He couldn’t move his feet, mouth agape in total shock at the sight before him.

There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, even on the ceiling. Three bullets marked the walls behind the headboard. So much blood. He didn’t understand how he had not smelt it when he was outside a few moments earlier.

They had not been kind in your death, three shots to the stomach meant you did not die quickly. You were sprawled out on top of the sheets, still in your pyjamas. The white shirt you wore, Javi’s shirt, was now deep red, soaked through. There was a handprint dragged over the landline phone on your bedside table, glass and book knocked over in your effort to call for help. You hand still reached for it, so close yet so far.

Steve heard his cry of agony and ran in. He saw you, then Javi, and his heart sank. You were dead, there was nothing he could do now but he had to get Javier up. He pulled at his shirt trying to get him to move but was only met with violence as he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip away.

“Javi,”

“Javi,”

“Javier! Wake up!”

Javier’s eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and covered in sweat he was dazed for a moment before he finally looked at you. Your heart broke at the sight. He looked at you with such terror in his eyes, you didn’t have a chance to say anything before he grabbed you and pulled you in tight to his chest.

“It was just a dream,” You comforted him, “It’s okay,”

He took a deep but shaking breath, taking in the scent of your hair. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. It felt so real.

Slowly, he let you go and sat up wiping his hands over his face to clear the tears on his cheeks. He looked around him. He was in his apartment, three am on the clock. There was no dog, no baby, no new house. No body. It was just a dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, sitting up with him and putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing his warm skin. He shook his head.

“It was just a dream,” He said softly.

The reality was he couldn’t afford to give you that vulnerability yet. He couldn’t let you know just how much he liked you for exactly the reason his dream had shown him. He was dangerous to be around. If you stayed, while it would be nice for a while, someone would pull the rug out from underneath you both eventually. It could only end in disaster. He would rather keep you at a distance, emotionally at least, so when that day came it would maybe hurt a little less.

He settled back down again, pulled you closer with your head on his chest. He could have you for now, like this, and let his imagination run wild with ideas of a picket fence future. But, to protect you that was all it could ever be. A dream.

—

A/n: I don’t know what is wrong with me... I am sorry Javi one day I will write something nice for you but today is not that day.

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog @hunters-heathen @beskarbabs @wille-zarr​ @all-hallows-evie

[scream-into-the-voiddd]

Or Lost?

Hi there.

since i have competently lost the plot in quarantine, I have returned to you all with some small moments that may mean nothing but have been adding up to something,....

we have this clip here....

and many people have pointed out Della’s reactions (and rightfully so)

but Frank and the crew are big fans of the misdirect.

(e.g. the buzzards being FOWL from day one, Magica actually being in the dime, the fibbing fibbing fibbing bit etc.. ) 

Ducktales like to hide important info in plain view but doesn't make that info a focus. like here in the ep. the great dime chase...This is the opening shot of the room with Della’s stuff in it, in the Mcduck library.  

Looking back it is super heavy handed.

the sear of Seline is stabbing the moon, and Della crashed on the moon, or at the very least the sear is being trusted into space. 

so this is painfully obvious now, but at the time of airing this imagery meant nothing (to those who did not know about Della’s comic history) 

 here 

[1:19]

the info was always there it was just not the main focus/ point of the scene so the whole thing flow over most peoples heads (its just good visual story telling as well) 

the misdirect was in focusing on the letter/ note (and the painting of Della kind of) and Dewey’s reaction to it. As it makes you look at only certain peace of the puzzle and not all the peaces.

Its just all around great writing.

anyway....that’s just an example of what i am talking about.

-------

What i’m getting at is the beauty of this kind of writing is that you don’t know what your looking for until its almost (or is) to late.

now back to my og point...

Donald makes a list of 

“no one getting hurt, captured or lost.”

list like this (in writing) are meant to make you focus on something you already care about, in this case, Donald’s care for the boys and their safety and Della being gone for 10 yrs. This make you (and me) mentally skim over, 

Captured  

and who reacts to that word 

Scrooge....

so my guess that Donald is referring to one or both of Scrooges sisters,

as the whole point is about the family and their relationships/pains that have come from adventuring.

so that strongly suggests  Hortense (Donald and Della’s mother) as she is actually imaged in the show/ has a character design. 

and Frank has confirmed that Della and Donald were at Scrooges on and off in their childhood. so its possible that she and her husband just didn’t come back from and adventure on day.

so its possible that Quackmore and Hortense were captured, and Scrooge is either responsible in someway or feels responsible for not ‘stopping’ his sister from going. 

oh but who, would be able to capture them you might ask?

who else...

the OG FOWL of course...

as there must have been a reason for their downfall and a Duck and Mcduck, take down seems likely.

however this can also apply to Von Drake (and maybe Matilda, Scrooge’s other sister)  

as we know family is beyond blood in this series so its possible that scrooge might be thinking about Von Drake...

perhaps he was captured by FOWL and Scrooge failed to save him, along with Matilda.  

[Edit: it also occurred to me that, the ones captured could be Webby’s parents, and by the og FOWL as well as the plot this season does seem to have at least some focus on Webby and Beakley (she is fibbing, fibbing, fibbing after all) and scrooge’s history. so thought i would throw that out her too]    

All i can confirm is that someone close to the family was taken, but why and for what reason, remains to be seen. 

----

and for good measure i’m gonna throw this in the mix...

Isabella Finch 

guess what kind of bird she is, a finch hen 

which is a type of .....FOWL *air horn noise’s*

am i reaching, absolutely.

will i continue this thought train, damn right i will...

Legacy is the theme this season, as it is literally the first word spoken in season 3. Specifically woodchuck legacy, with the family (Della and Huey) and the over all history (Finch and her map).

but there is another point i would like to bring up here to 

[30 sec’s in]

not only did FOWL know about the journal, but it is implied they knew what was in it (lost mystery’s) 

and they are “racing” the family to something which means they must be aware on some level the contents of the journal.

but HOW? 

Finch might have been a part of the og FOWL (or shush) and she knew she had to hide her journal from either FOWL or Shush for whatever reason.

all i’m saying is that she has some kind of tie to FOWL, good or bad.

----

now I must once again, piggy back on @night-rise7474​  post here 

 they speculate that, earth quakes cause by the Terrafirmans make the ground unstable.

[Edit: i have been corrected.

“Well actually what I said was that FOWL is going to use an army of Terrafirmans to CREATE earthquakes. They haven’t caused any unstable tunnels as of YET. But, believe me when I say... it’s going to happen. BELIEVE IT lol”  my bad.]  

remember what i said about some imagery being obvious in hindsight, and how misdirection is used by looking at one pace and not the whole picture... 

so i put to you all..... 

 that its not just an earth quake but, a certain mountain being unearthed 

like so....

(also you can’t tell me that JWC symbol doesn't look like a big ass coin) and the arrow (in the J) is now pointing down.

and will you look at that there is even a ‘hole’ leading up the mountain,hmmmmm...

[Didn’t think i was going to bring back that imagery point did you, classic misdirect inside an explanation of said misdirect. (I lulled you into a false sense of security) that is how effective this writing device can be, and i’m just a random on the internet. imagine what frank and crew can do. ]   

also the dialogue here is literally. 

[Webby] “it was under our nose this whole time.” so take that as you will.

also also 

this call back to my other post about looming legacies

about how treasure is UNDER THE CASTLE (manor) OF A MCDUCK!!!!

[Scrooge’s mother] “so be built, a mysterious series of tunnels under the castle to keep the family fortune, some say he summoned a demon dog to stalk the comatose.”

so they are lifting up that mountain, and digging around underneath....

[stupouid]

Unity (ATLA boys x reader) Chapter 2

Chapter 1| Chapter 2

A/N: this one has lots of cute sokka moments for Y/N!!!!! you go girl!!

I kind of edited this so yeah<3

Warning: like 3 curse words

Word count: over 3k words lelele

ask any questions in my askbox!

Chapter 2

The Swamp Meeting Sokka and Katara, formally, was… interesting, for Y/N. When Katara saw Aang walking towards the two siblings with Y/N, her first instinct was to freeze her, not even acknowledging the way Aang wasn’t even troubled by Y/N’s presence.

“Katara!” Aang shouted, as he unfreezed the ice that entrapped Y/N. “This is Y/N. She’s King Bumi’s granddaughter, and more importantly, she’s a friend. She defied Princess Azula, Zuko’s sister, to save me. If it wasn’t for her King Bumi and I would probably be fried.”

“I don’t believe you.” Sokka stated. “If you were really King Bumi’s granddaughter, we would have met you weeks ago, the last time we were here.”

“It’s a long story, but I can assure you I’m no threat. I’m not a fire bender or an earth bender, I’m already considered a traitor to the fire nation, and I left my sword and my throwing knives back home. The only way I could possibly hurt you is by chi-blocking, and I’m not even as good as Ty Lee!”

“Hold on. Why’d you say earth or fire bender? And why do we have matching necklaces?” Sokka questioned.

“She’ll tell us while we’re on Appa. Now come on, I have an earthbending teacher to find. Y/N, you wouldn’t happen to know any great earthbending teachers, right?”

“No, I don’t, but I’m tired. And your sky bison is so cute!”

Y/N told Sokka, Katara, and Aang the whole story. How her mother was the princess of Omashu and how she traveled the whole world and had many suitors from different nations (Y/N's mother had multiple water tribe suitors and her favorite had given her a necklace similar to Sokka’s, hence as to why they match), how Y/N's mother had Y/N with a fire nation noblemen which led to Y/M/N being disowned by her family, how Y/N grew up in the fire nation and how Y/N moved to Omashu after her mother’s death, and how Y/N was too scared to set foot anywhere near the royal palace. 

It was a lot for the watertribe siblings to take in, but they sympathized with her as they both lost a mother as well. Ultimately, they decided she wasn’t a threat to them and would help them out when navigating the fire nation and Ba Sing Se, as the girl traveled to many places due to her father and mother’s high status.Katara may have trusted Y/N right away, but Sokka was still suspicious of the girl, and most likely jealous too. 

Sokka certainly didn’t appreciate the fact that Y/N was a better warrior than him even though he was older than her, and he was jealous because of the way she had with a sword. 

Days passed and the four teens were flying over a large forested area, covered with a blanket of fog. Aang was in some sort of trance and Y/N was eyeing the swamp suspiciously, while Sokka sharpened his machete and Katara studied some scroll.

“Hey, you taking us down for a reason?” Sokka questioned. There was no reply from Aang, and Y/N didn’t bother to answer Sokka. The swamp was too… ominous. 

“Aang, why are we going down?”Aang must have snapped out of his trance because he then said, “What? I didn’t even notice.”

“Are you noticing now?” The watertribe boy retorted. Noticing Sokka’s harsh attitude, Katara moved up to the front of the saddle, and said, “Is something wrong?”

“This is going to sound really weird,” Aang started, “but I think the swamp is calling to me.”

Y/N interjected with, “I feel it too. I can hear some sort of… ringing, I guess. It’s weird and I don’t like it.”

Sokka ignored what Y/N said and targeted his next question to Aang. “Well, is it telling you where we can get something to eat? I’m starving!” At this, Y/N rolled her eyes. In the short time that she knew Sokka, she had pinned down three of his personality traits to be talking about food, girls, and his boomerang. Disgusting. 

Y/N tuned out the rest of the conversation until she heard Sokka scream, “You better throw in an extra yip! We gotta move!” And that was when Y/N saw the tornado.

Y/N had never liked tornadoes. She also wasn’t fond of lightning. As Y/N was panicking, she saw Sokka fly off Appa’s saddle. She instinctively reached out for his hand and he grabbed on to it. Y/N saw the look of panic on his face, since Y/N was the person who would decide if he would live or die. She could either let him go here and risk Katara freezing her to death, or bring Sokka back onto the saddle and have him owe his entire life to her. The princess went with the latter. 

As Y/N helped Sokka onto the saddle, Aang created an air shield around Appa. However, Aang was struggling with keeping it intact, and eventually the shield broke and Appa and the rest of the team fell into the swamp. Fortunately, Y/N fell right next to Aang, so he bended the air to give them a soft landing. 

Aang stood straight up and looked around, asking, “Where’s Appa and Momo?” When he didn’t find them right away, he shouted, “APPA! MOMO!” Y/N was laying on a tree root and had no intention of moving until Sokka appeared right before her with a huge-ass grin on his face.

“What? Did ya’ get too tired Princess?” Sokka teased. Y/N's face turned red, totally not from Sokka calling her princess. Her face turned red because he was teasing. Yup.

Fuming, Y/N replied with, “Funny, because I was the one who saved you. Now you owe me your life.” Y/N stood up and brushed off the dirt from her clothes. Sokka was left speechless by the girl, because everything she said was factual. 

Soon the four of them were united and Sokka suggested they start a fire. Aang and Sokka argued while Katara noticed that Y/N was just in the background. Walking over to Y/N, Katara said, “Hey. Are you, uh, okay?”

“What?” Y/N replied, “Oh no, I’m fine. Really. I’m just not a big fan of this place.”

“Oh, okay. Just… let me know if you need anything, yeah?” Y/N simply just nodded in response to Katara. The four kids had dinner and then went to sleep, huddled against each other for warmth. Or more like Katara and Aang were huddled together in the middle, and Sokka and Y/N were on the outside. Suddenly, Sokka screamed, and the rest of the three teens woke up, only to be dragged away by some vines. Y/N tried her best to get out of the vines, but with no weapon (it was with Sokka) or no bending, she was stuck. 

“Guys? GUYS!” she screamed, but no luck. Y/N kept wiggling inside of the vines until they randomly let go.Stepping out of the cage of vines, Y/N was met with a figure. Y/N could tell that the figure was most likely female, so she called out, “Hey lady! Could you uhh… help me find my friends?”The lady didn’t respond, so Y/N started walking towards the woman. Y/N was just about 5 feet away from the mysterious woman until she turned around, and Y/N was met with the face of...her mother.  

“Mom?” Y/N asked, with tears coming to her eyes.“Mom, is that really you?” The mysterious woman just nodded, and Y/N ran over to her, tears streaming down her s/c skin. “Mom!”

“Y/N,” the lady started, “I want you to know that… that the heart wants what it wants. The person you end up with may not be the person you expected. The person you may end up with may have crossed you many times before. But just know that they’re with you for a good reason, and that they love you for you. The person you end up with is an amazing warrior with an intelligent mind.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t even thinking about love yet, she was only fourteen for spirit’s sake! Nonetheless, Y/N accepted her mother’s advice with a thank you. The young girl was about to embrace her mother when her image started shimmering.

“Mom? Mom!” Y/N called out. 

“Y/N! I love you so, so much! Don’t forget what I said!” Screamed Y/N’s mother, and then she disappeared into the night. Y/N stood there, processing what her mother had told her. Why was it important that she know who she would end up with? She had expected her mother to apologize for not telling her the whole truth, or some information on a powerful earthbender so she could help Aang with his search. 

Y/N shook her head and her h/c hair framed her face. The girl started walking, not sure of where she was going, until she came upon a large clearing. (in reality some vines pushed her until she reached said clearing.) She found a tree root and sat on it, thinking about whatever the hell her mother had just said, until Sokka appeared, along with Katara and Aang.

“What do you guys think you’re doing!?” Sokka shouted, as he put away his machete. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” 

Katara, obviously agitated, replied with, “Well, I’ve been wandering around looking for you! And you, Y/N, where were you?”

Y/N was about to speak, but Aang cut her off with, “I was chasing some girl.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What girl?” Katara asked. Y/N couldn’t tell if she was jealous or just plain confused.

“I don’t know. I heard some girl laughing and I saw a girl in a fancy dress.” Aang replied.

“Well there must be a tea party here and we didn’t get our invitations!” Sokka screamed sarcastically. Y/N giggled. Who knew Sokka could actually be funny? “What are you laughing at, Y/N?” said the watertribe boy.

“Nothing!” the h/c haired girl replied. “Nope, nothing at all.”

“I thought I saw mom.” Katara stated. 

“Oh. I thought I saw my mother too.” Y/N uttered. Sokka frowned as he noticed Y/N didn’t seem too happy about it. 

“Really? Did your mother say anything to you? I tried to reach out to my mom but she disappeared before she could tell me anything!” Katara blurted.

“She talked to me about the person I be with in the future. She said they were a skilled warrior who was very intelligent. I don’t know anyone like that though. Except some people in the fire nation, but based on how things are going, that’s a no. But she also said that the person I end up with is not someone I would expect.” Sokka mulled over her words.

“You don’t know anyone like that? What about me? I’m intelligent! And I’m the best warrior in the Southern Water Tribe!” Sokka exclaimed. Hearing Sokka’s words made Y/N blush, but also made her laugh.

“Well, I’m sorry that you were so offended by my mother. I’ll admit, you’re smart, but you could work on your skills with a sword.” Y/N breathed. 

The two kept bickering until Sokka said, “Look, we were all just scared and hungry and our minds were playing tricks on us. That's why we all saw things out here.” 

Katara looked surprised. “You saw something too?” 

Sokka looked away, obviously thinking about what he was going to say next.“I saw… I saw Yue. But that doesn’t prove anything! Look, I think about her all the time, and you and Y/N saw your moms, who you guys probably miss a lot.” 

Y/N knew who Yue was. Despite constantly bickering, there were some times where Sokka and Y/N had deep conversations, conversations Sokka was too scared to have with Katara. They talked about Y/N's past, and how Yue’s death deeply affected Sokka. 

“What about me? I didn't know the girl I saw. And all our visions led us right here.” Aang started walking around, thinking deeply, trying to connect the dots.

“Okay ... so where's here? The middle of the swamp?” Katara questioned.

Y/n cut in. “I think… I think this is the heart of the swamp. It has to be the center. I think it was calling us.”

“It's just a tree. It can't call anyone. For the last time, there's nothing after us and there's nothing magical happening here.” As soon as Sokka said that, a huge seaweed monster appeared before them. 

Sokka screamed and ran straight to Y/N, wrapping his arms around her, while Y/N just stood there trying to understand what the hell had just appeared right in front of them. The monster started attacking the four friends, so they all split up. 

The monster got to Sokka first, picking him up and swinging him around like an infant would with a toy. Aang bended the air to chop off one the arm that was holding Sokka, only to become the next target for the seaweed creature. 

After Sokka was free from the creature’s grasp, Y/N helped the tan boy tear up some of the vines, as he gave her back her sword just seconds ago. Things were going smoothly until Sokka was swiped from the ground, (yes, again) but Y/N chopped off the arm that was holding him. 

Katara was using her water to slice another arm of the creature but the holes the water bender created kept on growing back. Aang was running around trying to lose the vines that were reaching out towards him. Sokka was randomly sucked into the chest of the creature while Y/N was trying her best to reach for his hand. 

Katara froze and then unfroze Sokka, allowing him to get out of the seaweed monster's chest. 

“There’s someone in there!” Sokka shouted to Katara. “He’s bending the vines!” Katara looked over to Y/N and the both nodded, signalling they were about to do something badass.

Katara ran to the left of the monsters body and sliced the monster’s head on using her water bending while Y/N hacked away at the right side of the monster’s body using her sword. The seaweed head of the creature slid off the body, and the man inside the seaweed was exposed. 

Aang shouted, “Why did you call me here if you wanted to kill us!?”

The man inside the monster said, “Wait! I didn’t call you here.” The man was wearing nothing but a loincloth covering his, you know, and a leaf hat on top of his head. 

Almost instinctively Sokka covered Y/N's eyes. Annoyed, she put his hand down and said, “I’m only a year younger than you. I don’t need your protection. I’m mature and I can defend myself just fine. I don’t need you.”

“Whatever. How am I gonna be a warrior if I have no one to protect?” Sokka started. 

“You can protect your sister-”

“The last time I tried to do that, she found the Avatar. Plus, she’s a bender. And the last princess I had to save turned into the moon. You may not be a princess yet, but I’m going to protect you. Think of it as my... redemption.”

At this point Y/N’s face was extremely red. 

“Well I think your redemption is a whole lot of bull. I’m not just some replacement for Yue, Sokka.” Y/N scoffed and started walking towards where the water benders were.Sokka reached for Y/N’s wrist tugged on it, pulling the s/c girl to him. Y/N couldn’t help but think of what happened with Zuko before she left. 

“I didn’t mean it that way, you idiot. You aren’t a replacement of Yue for me. We may fight a lot, but I care about you, Y/N.” 

Y/N thought about his words. She gave him a smile and said, “I guess,” then started walking towards Katara and Aang, who were following the weird swamp man. 

“So, who are you then?” She heard Katara say. The strange man started bending vines out of the way to create a path. 

“I protect the swamp from folks that want to hurt it, like this fella with his big knife.” 

Embarrassed, Sokka put away his weapon, but then said, “See, completely reasonable. Not a monster, just a regular guy defending his home. Nothing mystical about it.”

The strange man, who’s name turned out to be Huu, laughed. “Oh the swamp is a mystical place all right. It's sacred. I reached enlightenment right here under the banyan-grove tree. I heard it calling me, just like you did.” He sat down on the said tree. 

Sokka elbowed Y/N in the stomach and said, “Sure you did. It seems real chatty.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle and Sokka looked over to the younger girl with a look of confidence on his face. 

“See, this whole swamp is actually just one tree spread out over miles,” Huu started. “Branches spread and sink, take root, and spread some more. One big, living organism. Just like the entire world.” Y/N was amazed. She looked around, her face filled with awe of the place. 

The princess didn’t bother to listen to the rest of their conversation, and rejoined the group when she saw they were all sitting down. 

“In the swamp, we see visions of people we've lost, people we loved, folks we think are gone. But the swamp tells us they're not. We're still connected to them. Time is an illusion and so is death.” Confusion washed over Y/N’s face. Was death really an illusion? Sokka noticed Y/N’s troubled looks and placed an arm on her shoulder, feeling pride in the way she relaxed against his touch. 

“But what about my vision? It was someone I had never met.” Aang questioned. 

“You're the Avatar. You tell me.” replied Huu. Aang mumbled something about how time was an illusion but Y/N didn’t pay attention. 

She was daydreaming about who-knows-what until she heard Aang shout “Come on! We’ve got to hurry!” 

The rest of the teens followed him through the swamp until he led them to Appa and Momo. There was a fight about the creatures, but eventually, Aang had his precious animals back.

Time passed quickly, and suddenly it was night time, and the GAang and the swamp benders were huddled around a fire. Y/N had complained about being too cold despite the swamp being normally warm and Sokka had wrapped his coat around Y/N’s shoulders. 

“How you like that possum chicken?” A swamp bender named Due asked. 

Sokka responded with,“Tastes just like arctic hen.” He shoveled another spoonful of soup into his mouth, then swallowed. “So why were you guys so interested in eating Appa? You've got plenty of those big things wandering around.” 

Sokka pointed at the catgator right next to the swamp benders. Due looked shocked. 

“You want me to eat old Slim? He's like a member of the family!” Due then grabbed a fish from wherever and tossed it towards the catgator. The catgator catched it and Sokka laughed. Y/N couldn’t help but smile when she heard him chuckle, it was like music to her ears. 

“Nice Slim!” Sokka cheered. He then threw a bug at Slim, but the catgator just growled. Y/N giggled.

“Catgators don’t eat bugs, Sokka.” The girl said. Sokka turned his head towards Y/N.

“And how do I know that you’re right, Princess?” Sokka inquired as he poked Y/N’s sides. By now Y/N was giggling like crazy and Sokka looked at the girl like she was the only person on Earth. 

“The girl is right! Bugs are people food!” Due laughed. 

“Where'd you say you was from?” another swamp bender named Tho, asked. 

Katara responded with, “My brother and I are from the South Pole. Y/N was born in the Earth Kingdom Omashu, but lived in the Fire Nation Capital for most of her life. And Aang is from the Southern Air Temple!” 

“Didn't know there was waterbenders anywhere but here.” Tho breathed. “They got a nice swamp there, do they?” Y/N giggled at his statement. According to her mother, Sokka, and Katara, there were zero swamps in the northern or southern water tribes.  

“No, it's all ice and snow.” Katara corrected. 

“Hmm. No wonder you left.” Y/N found this strangely funny for some reason, and she placed her face onto Sokka’s shoulder to stifle her laughs. The watertribe boy’s face turned crimson red, as he had never experienced something like this, not even with Suki or Yue. 

Sokka cleared his throat, and to Katara, he said, “Well, I hope you realize now that nothing strange was going on here. Just a bunch of greasy people living in a swamp.” This made Y/N laugh even harder and Sokka felt extremely confident. 

“What about the visions?” Katara countered.

“I told you, we were hungry. I'm eating a giant bug!” Tears were coming out of Y/N’s eyes, Sokka was acting incredibly stupid. And the way he ate the bug’s abdomen was disturbing and hilarious at the same time. Sokka placed his arm around Y/N in an attempt to be smooth. Y/N, just thinking it was a friendly gesture, allowed it. 

“But what about when the tree showed me where Appa and Momo were?” Aang added. 

Y/N had calmed down a few moments before and was currently sitting straight up, no longer leaning on Sokka, much to his dismay.

“That’s Avatar stuff,” Y/N started. “That doesn’t count.” Y/N fixed her h/c, h/l, and then asked Huu, “How did you make that tornado that sucked us down? It was pretty freaking awesome.”

Huu looked confused. “I can't do anything like that. I just bend the water in the plants.” 

Sokka stood up, then announced, “Well, no accounting for weather. Still, there's absolutely nothing mysterious about the swamp. I’m also tired, so I’m gonna go set up our sleeping bags. Y/N? Care to assist this handsome young fellow?” He held out an arm for Y/N to grab onto. With nothing else to do, Y/N took his arm and stood up. 

“I’m not sure that the term ‘handsome young fellow’ is suitable for you, but I’m tired, so why not?” The two started walking towards Appa, on their way to get their supplies. 

taglist: @emberislandplayers​ @eridanuswave​ @fandomobsessedlife​ @hopefuloperaangelnerd​

[starbuckie]

Some Quarantine Lovin’ Chapter 2: Going Home

Marvel Highschool! AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

Words: 2,130 words

A/N: I am here with Chapter 2! I’m sorry that it’s short, but I think that I’m gonna have a lot of chapters with a smaller amount of words. Also, I’ve been thinking about opening asks so I can write drabbles if people request them. I don’t really know, but if anyone wants it, I’m all in to do it. And, of course, thank you to my amazing friend @transparentfestivaltiger​ for editing and reading this beforehand (go check out her series Doll, its freaking awesome). Thank you so much for reading and enjoy <3

The end of the day was very emotional. Students ran around the courtyard and halls, hugging each other, tears running out of their eyes. After all, they didn’t know how long it would be until they saw each other again. Sitting at a table, Steve, Bucky, and Y/N had joined up with Natasha, Wanda, and Sam. Bucky and Y/N had told the group their news, and they were really happy for them. “Y’know,” Sam whispered to Bucky, “if you’re staying in her room you might be able to get a chance to get a little action.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and flush took over his face. “What the hell, Sam?” Bucky slapped him, “That’s so messed up. How can you say something so crude?”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. But seriously, you now have this huge opportunity to tell her, and if you don’t, I swear to God I will whoop your ass into 2035. She’s been waiting on you for six years, it’s about goddamn time.”

Steve grimaced and nodded. “While I wouldn’t phrase it like our sweet Sam over here did,” Sam smiled cheekily, “I agree with what he’s saying. Go get your girl, Buck.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but smiled at his two friends. “Thanks for the pep talk, guys, I just don’t want to ruin this.”

Sam and Steve rolled their eyes. “James Barnes,” Sam started, “do you really not see the absolute buffoonery going on between you two? Y/N clearly loves you back. Y’all have been glued together by the hip since third grade, and don’t even get me started on how she looked at you when you wore a suit to the winter formal. She looked like she was ready to jump your bones.” Bucky blushed once again and looked down at the ground.

Steve sighed. “Look, we aren’t gonna force you into anything. But one day she’s gonna get picked up by someone else, and when that happens, I know for a fact that you’re gonna regret it. You two have practically dating for six years-”

“With the exception of Dot.” Sam interjected.

“With the exception of Dot. Also, if ‘ruining’ your friendship is what you’re worried about, then you should know that Y/N is one of the sweetest people on the planet, and she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, even if you get turned down. But I doubt it’ll come to that.” All three boys glanced to the other end of the bench where the girls sat. Y/N was braiding Natasha’s hair, and Wanda sat on the ground, animatedly telling a story about something that happened in her English class. 

Bucky focused on Y/N. Her nimble fingers made quick work of twisting the redhead’s hair into a perfect French braid, her nails painted with a light pink. She wore a black pencil skirt and a jean jacket, and it was a change from her normal hoodie and leggings she usually wore, and Bucky thought she looked gorgeous. Her lips were stretched in a bright smile and her nose scrunched up. Y/N always hated her laugh, saying that it was more of a wheeze than anything else, but as cliché as it sounded, her laugh was like a breath of fresh air, when he didn’t even know he was drowning. 

Steve and Sam glanced at each other and smirked, realizing Bucky was once again, staring at Y/N. She realized as well, as she yelled, “Hey, Buck, enjoying the view?” He blushed even harder if that was possible, and she giggled. Natasha and Wanda joined in, knowing how lovestruck their friends were. 

After Y/N tied off Natasha’s hair, she walked over to the end of the table where the boys were and leaned her head on Bucky’s shoulder. “You ready to go, Buckaroo?” She asked with a grin. He rolled his eyes at the old nickname, but he honestly adored it when she called him that. He took her hand in his, and stood up, not even noticing Y/N’s smile grow wider. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He looked over at his friends and smiled. 

Natasha checked the watch on her wrist. “We all better get going, they’re closing campus in fifteen minutes.” The six friends said goodbye to each other, tearing up because they didn’t know when they would see each other again. Y/N gave Wanda and Natasha huge hugs, with promises to FaceTime every night and Netflix party. 

“Y/N, for the last goddamn time, I swear I will not forget about you.” The Sokovian girl had been dealing with Y/N’s dramatics for years, but Wanda knew she would miss it during the quarantine. As she pulled her friend back into a tight embrace, she whispered, “God, you better tell Barnes how you feel or I’ll strangle you in your sleep with my powers.” The two girls laughed about the running joke that they had, concerning Wanda and her “powers”. Whenever Wanda went somewhere with them, something unfortunate had happened to them, such as falling down a hill or banging their knee on a table. Natasha had claimed that Wanda was a witch, and three years later they still bugged her with it. 

Natasha kissed Y/N on the cheek, knowing that they would be okay. “I love you, Y/N, be smart and give us daily updates.”

Y/N snorted. “Okay, mom.” She went to join Bucky again, grabbing his hand again. Sam and Steve stood there, and she gave them each a one-armed hug as a goodbye. “I’m going to miss you two dumbasses a whole lot.” 

“We’re gonna miss you too, girly.” Sam said with an easy smile. “Call us whenever you and Bucky aren’t busy being idiots in love.” Y/N blushed, and Bucky glared and hit him in the head. She hastily dropped his hand and completely missed the expression of hurt on Bucky’s face. 

Steve felt uncomfortable tension and broke in the conversation. “Y/N, take good care of Buck and Becca, okay?”

Y/N gave a small smile.”I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. Talk to you soon.” With a final wave to the rest of their friends, the two friends walked away to go to Bucky’s house.

“Do you wanna take the shortcut to your house, Buck?” Y/N was determined to get Bucky and Becca to her house as fast as possible. Rain started to fall lightly as they walked through the streets of Brooklyn, and Bucky took it as an opportunity to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer to him. When she looked up to meet his eyes with a confused expression, he simply said, “For warmth.”

Finally making it to his house, they stood outside the door as Bucky fumbled with the key. “Hey, James?” He looked at her, and she saw the fear in his eyes. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

Giving her a small watery smile, he slid the key into the lock and twisted it. He grabbed her hand for reassurance, and walked in. The wood floors creaked under their steps, though they were practically tiptoeing already. They searched the whole house besides Becca’s closet room in the back, and not to their surprise, found that Bucky’s father wasn’t home. “Y/N, can you get Becca from her crib? I’m going to pack our things.” He started to turn around to go to his room.

“Yeah, and while you're at it leave a note or something for your dad, just in case he wonders where you are.” 

Bucky’s footing faltered for a moment, until he replied over his shoulder, “Why? It’s not like he cares anyway.” Y/N’s heart dropped at this, and she saw past Bucky’s cool demeanor. He had been hurting, only ever seeking his father’s approval and attention, but it never seemed to be good enough. He didn’t even have to say it out loud. She knew that the only reason Bucky pushed himself to be the best, to maintain his 4.0 GPA, honors classes, and several tiring sports, were all for his dad. He has been taking care of his sister ever since his mom died, and never got any sleep. And all for what? With her eyes watering slightly, she made her way to the closet at the back of his house.

As she passed by the rooms, she realized that she hadn’t ever spent much time in Bucky’s house. She wasn’t upset about it, but she couldn’t help but to admire the architecture and interior of it. With a sigh, Y/N opened the closet door, and came to a sight she never thought she would see. Letting out a gasp, she turned around and ran. Practically sliding into Bucky’s room, she whimpered. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked, seeing the clear panic on her face. He ran forward and grabbed her hands.

“Your dad is here.” She whispered. Bucky’s face lost all its color.

“What?” Y/N nodded. 

“My mom said that if he was here, to just leave and she would bring us back late-”

“No.” He said with determination. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Do you want me to come with you?” Bucky nodded, and they went off to talk to his dad. George Barnes sat in the small foldable chair behind the crib. “Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” He lazily asked. Bucky gulped, and Y/N squeezed his hand to reassure him. 

“Yes, sir.” She responded.

“Cut to the chase, what do you want?” George snapped.

Bucky had a hard tone in his voice when he spoke. “Y/N’s family offered to take me and Becca in during quarantine. I’ll be taking her food with me, as well as mine, so I just thought I’d let you know I’ll be with Y/N until it's all over.” His father stared at him with a wrinkled brow and confusion written all over his face. That’s when Bucky realized that his own father didn’t know about the shelter in place order. “Oh god, you don’t even know do you? I can’t say I’m surprised, dad. I’m taking Becca. Goodbye.” And with venom in his every action, he grabbed Becca and stomped away with Y/N trailing behind him.

Once he had all of his things in a duffel bag, he looked over his shoulder to find his dad looking at him. Bucky was expecting anything really, yelling, or a lecture, but Mr. Barnes only sighed and retreated to his room. Y/N bundled Becca up in a blanket and cooed at the baby. Little Becca had known Y/N ever since she was born, and had even accidentally called her mama. That was very awkward for both Bucky and her, but they managed to move past it. The two freshmen took one more look at everything in the room, and after nodding in agreement, left the house without another word.

It was about a twenty minute walk to Y/N’s house, but with the rain it took a little longer. After ten minutes of silence, she spoke.

“Bucky, are you okay?” Becca was snuggled safely in her arms, and Bucky’s arm was once again holding Y/N against him, with his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. The two of them almost looked like a happy couple, and she had to hide back the smile at the thought. Bucky on the other hand, was content with holding her close, but the only thing he could think about is how his dad didn’t even care that he was leaving. He was nearly disappointed, but he didn’t dare say that out loud. His feelings were boiling in his chest, and he wanted to do just something, anything, to get his mind off it, so he just held her tighter.

“I’m okay.” He replied shortly, hating how it came out as soon as he said it. Y/N understood he was upset and didn’t say anything, but she would be lying if she admitted that it didn’t hurt a little bit. “God, I’m sorry Y/N, I just don’t know how to feel anymore. Just don’t wanna think about it at all.”

She nodded. “I’ll be right here whenever you wanna talk, Buck. You can always tell me anything.” Leaning her head on his shoulder, Bucky let his lips turn upwards in just the slightest, and relaxed. “Do you wanna watch Gossip Girl when we get home?”

“I swear to god, doll, you’re addicted to that show.”

“I can’t help it, Carter Baizen is simply too hot for his own good.” Bucky just chuckled at her antics, and thought about how good he would feel when he didn’t have to worry anymore.

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 4 Review: Haywire

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Superman & Lois review contains spoilers.

Superman and Lois Episode 4

One of the most tired arguments in comics is about whether or not Superman is too powerful to tell good stories with. The plethora of exceptional, meaningful, moving Superman stories out there should put that argument to bed for good, but if they haven’t, feel free to direct anyone making it to “Haywire,” the fourth episode of what’s shaping up to be one of the best Superman arcs ever.

To my mind, the key Superman conflict has nothing to do with his power level and everything to do with the fact that he can’t be everywhere at once. He is a man who wants to help everyone, but has to prioritize where he can be and how much time he can stay there, and those choices all have consequences. That’s basically the thesis statement of this episode: Clark is being pulled in a thousand different directions at once, with his father-in-law climbing on his back about not being seen enough in Metropolis; an Intergang prisoner transfer going down; Morgan Edge about to close the deal on a mine outside of Smallville and Lois trying to run headfirst into Edge; and the boys trying to navigate school and also one of their classmates developing super speed.

But the thing that makes this episode, and the show as a whole, such a good Superman story isn’t necessarily the content of the story. It’s the storytelling, too. Superman & Lois excels at showing and telling. It weaves the three storylines – Clark, Lois and the kids – in and out, contrasting points against each other by bouncing from scene to scene to heighten the point. There are two spots this week where this is really well done.

The first is about midway through the episode. Lois’ big Morgan Edge expose in the Gazette has been spiked by a lawsuit threat – turns out Lois, a star reporter at a major metropolitan newspaper, had a noncompete WHODATHUNK (note: see the mailbag for who indeed thunk). So she pushed it off on Clark, who, as a well known mediocrity, had no such legal conflict, and was planning to bring up the issue in the big town meeting where Smallville was voting on granting Edge’s Intercorp mining rights to the party spot from the first episode.

Meanwhile, the Department of Defense was moving a super-prisoner out of town because Superman’s lack of presence in town was making the authorities skittish about keeping him in town. And at the same time, Sam Lane was giving the kids a hard time about being too needy now that they know their dad was Superman, because the rest of the world needed him more. 

Of course, nothing works out right. Superman takes way too long on a wild goose chase, so Edge wins the town vote nearly unanimously, while the stuff with Jordan and Jon takes some time to blow up. 

The performances really carry this sequence over. Hoechlin’s Clark agonizes over missing the vote and practically begs Tulloch’s Lois to be mad at him, and their argument is so natural and honest feeling that it’s immediately relatable. 

Later, when the family finds out what Sam said to the kids, there’s an argument in the farmhouse that is also immediately recognizable and yet perfectly performed. Clark is pissed at Sam, but Superman’s anger is so often played as some world-ending threat, with glowing red eyes and menacing body language, yet here Hoechlin plays it completely straight – as an angry dad dealing with a shitty in-law. I’m sure we’re going to keep talking about this as the show goes along, but the amount of acting Hoechlin and Tulloch do with only their body language, and the way it conveys exactly who Superman and Lois are both alone and in relation to each other is a HUGE part of the mastery of this show. 

The only problem I have with the episode is how it’s all a path to Sam’s radicalization into creating Project 7734. This is pretty BS for a couple of reasons: first, there’s no way the shady-ass government doesn’t already have a similar contingency plan (or 6) for dealing with a rogue Superman; and second, I know the episode is all about what a terrible parent he is, but I really can’t wrap my head around turning on Superman because he’s spending too much time with your grandkids. Maybe that’s what makes Sam a villain, but it’s also what makes this Superman the best he’s been so far in an already great show.

Metropolis Mailbag

Thaddeus Killgrave is a weaselly little shit created in the 1980s as a weapons designer for Intergang. The Killgrave we see on screen bears little resemblance to his comics version, where he was almost childlike in his stature. Instead, this bearded, bedraggled, mouth-noise-making character actually looks a lot like his creator, John Byrne.

Superman’s call sign when he’s working with the Department of Defense is “Bishop 6.” So…uh…does Sam Lane work for Checkmate? Checkmate is one of the various super-clandestine services operating in the DC Universe (along with Task Force X/Suicide Squad, Spyral, Kobra, Argus, the D.E.O., and on and on and on). Checkmate was first seen in Action Comics in the late 1980s and has counted among its members any number of famous DC heroes, from Deathstroke to Alan Scott and Mr. Terrific.

We have confirmation here that Morgan Edge is running a company called “Intercorp.” The Inter- prefix usually has connotations with Intergang (which is also present in the show), a gang of thugs organized by Bruno Mannheim, usually working for Morgan Edge in some capacity, and all functioning as a subsidiary of Apokalips. Intergang was created by Jack Kirby when he first started on Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #133, recently reprinted in a gorgeous absolute edition which is worth every single penny.

Calling the mines “Shuster Mines” is a nice touch, especially when they get bought out by a big company and filled with Superman’s only weakness. 

Speaking of callbacks to Grant Morrison’s run, Glenmorgan Square is likely named after Glen Glenmorgan, a minor throwaway villain from the very beginning of Morrison’s Action Comics. 

It’s not really an easter egg or anything, but I want it to be known that when Lois walked into the local paper’s office, I texted someone else watching and said “she definitely has a noncompete.” I’m glad the show also remembered this so I could be proven correct.

X-Kryptonite is a deeeeeep cut. Supergirl originally created X-Kryptonite as an antidote for green k. But she made it wrong, and it ended up being able to give anyone powers who was exposed to it. Including her otherwise normal Earth cat, Streaky. Yes this was 1960, why do you ask?

Tag’s emerging powers are a lot of vague references all in one. The super healing and the fast movement are pretty clearly emerging speedster powers, but he doesn’t have any other characteristics of Flashes. Besides getting his powers from a mysterious energy discharge hitting a bunch of weird chemicals. That said, Sam was probably talking out of his ass when he blamed phosphorus for Tag’s powers, considering they were partying on top of a pile of power-giving crystals when it happened. 

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Sam also says Tag is being sent to a “special school” for kids with powers, which…it’s weirdly early to be introducing Titans Academy to the TV shows, isn’t it? That new feature of the Infinite Frontier DCU is the only school for gifted youngsters I can think of that would fit the bill, but sound off in the comments if you know what he’s talking about! God I hope it’s not HIVE…

The post Superman & Lois Episode 4 Review: Haywire appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[aqvarius]

5memorable moments and 5 guys you came to love?

[5] memorable moments:

1. shinobu narita from serendipity next door throwing a fucking fit because mc saw something personal of his while he literally was snooping through her personal work bag basically every day and making shitty, uncalled-for comments about it all the time

you just called YOURSELF insensitive you dickweed!!!!!! 

2. issei telling mc to kill him. i couldn’t believe he actually did that. i thought kor mc was going to battle through her conflict between love and revenge internally but when he told her to do it, i thought my heart was going to stop. i think this is not only one of the most memorable but what i probably consider to be one of the greatest voltage moments

3. when lute from akd actually dies. this is the one and only voltage moment that actually had me sobbing in real life. i make a lot of jokes about crying over voltage routes and guys. but when lute’s heart stopped beating i was actually a mess. i remember having to take a half hour break to actually weep into my pillow because i just couldn’t bear it. maybe i was premenstrual or in a particularly weak mental state? no idea, but that one scene really wrecked me in that moment

4. kaga’s colourless dream/nightmare of mc’s death when he takes a bullet for her. we rarely see kaga express how important his mc is for him, but this really cemented that she is everything to him. to see the meaning of her in his life, the responsibility he also feels to her family, the fact that he’ll do anything and change anything just to have her back, in such a poetic way felt so poignant, especially on the back of what happened in adversaries when kaga had to choose chasing the perp over saving mc who was bleeding out. when i think of kaga’s love for his mc, it’s this scene which i think captures it the best. 

5. hue ripping the stars out of his one remaining eye to save his love again/goddess mc making her decision between being with hue or saving humanity/mc going back in time and promising hue they’ll find each other in the future. i can’t pick between these three incredible hue x mc moments so i’m just gonna bundle them together as memorable hue moments. (oh!! also when mc finally remembers hue in the lake!!) these three moments i think are the pinnacle of what i consider to be voltage’s most fated romance. these moments are what make hue x mc my forever otp, because these two are each other’s past, present and future and they were never meant to be with anyone else. anyway hue should have been scm’s title character because he and mc are the canon scm couple and i WILL fight anyone who says otherwise.

(edited to add links to the aforementioned hue moments because of COURSE i had to have screenshotted and posted them on my blog haha)

6. BONUS when ayumu and mc finally have sex for the first time. the anticipation had been building up for so long and then to have that whole agonising ‘error’ and misunderstanding happen before they finally did the deed really made it so significant when they do finally have sex. i think this may probably be the most touching and momentous sex scene in any voltage route.  

[5] guys you came to love:

1. ayumu shinonome: if you scroll waaaay far back to some of my earliest hlitf tagged posts, you may remember this time when i was saying i was afraid to play him because he seemed too twisted (btw this is because i was/am still suffering from shinobu-induced trauma) and i didn’t wanna spend money buying all his routes hahaha (tea, you fool!!!). luckily @effloresensemn ​ talked me out of it and he’s definitely someone who i have come to absolutely ADORE. talking about this mushroom with @gamerjanice ​ and @world-a-to-z ​ is probably one of my favourite things to do on tumblr haha.

2. takeshi yuno: i mean i was definitely interested in him from the start and then i really started to fall for him about midway through his MS. but i think it was his later seasons where i came to love him more than ever. he and his mc go through so much together. i once said that take’s routes put a thousand tons of emotional burden on you and i really think that is what makes their relationship so great. they’ve been together through all the ups and (so, so many) downs and it just makes their relationship (and my love for him) so much stronger because of all the difficulties. 

3. chikage: this dude is… both so hard and so easy to love. sometimes i’m like oh chikage why you so tsun but then he’ll just do something ridiculously cute or suddenly be really straightforward about something embarrassing and i’ll be like whAT???? you’re too shy to hold my hand in public but you’ll sacrifice your life to save me? or comment on my ass??? i love love love chikage so much even though he’s prickly as a cactus but i just have to share one of my favourite moments which is when mc gained some weight and was trying to wear a weighted vest under her clothes to lose the weight and she fell off a boat and was drowning and chikage, who hates getting wet and didn’t even wanna ride this boat, dived in to save her. and then this exchange happened:

you can read the whole convo here ughhh it’s so great

4. kazuomi shido: i wasn’t expecting to like kazuomi as much as i do because i really thought he was just gonna be generic oresama type. but i’d definitely say he’s more of the kyohei type than the leon type, if that makes sense. i thought yuzuru was going to be My Guy in masquerade kiss but actually i think i like kazuomi more (although i prefer yuzuru’s mc cause she’s better at her job haha). he’s just… fun? but he’s so clever, and i love that he challenges his mc and kinda toys with her and lets her do her own thing rather than just commanding/ordering her around. also when i found out about his past and his love for crowded/frenetic places i think that’s when i really felt a stronger connection to him because i feel really similarly myself. 

5. hiro sarashina: i’m actually surprised that i ended up liking him because honestly i don’t really go for the genki guys and at that time @hikarunohana and i had this thing going where we were just hating on sora from msb who i thought would hiro would be really similar to lol but yeah i was kinda surprised that i actually ended up loving hiro because he’s surprisingly(?) reliable and attractive. 

thanks for the ask!

[orderuponthe99prettygrimmdiaries]

Break the cycle.

It’s been such a long while since I’ve been doing my writing, and I think that was a huge ass mistake. Been going down the spiral again, or have been for months. Friends have been feeling stressed for me too, and I absolutely fucking hate that I’ve been bringing them distress because I’m such a mess of figuring out my feelings and overthinking every single detail and scenario, etc. 

I’ve been thinking for a bit about what made me the way I am... Sometimes it feels like it was how I grew up. I mean, I love my parents, but there’s definitely some toxicity. I always suppressed myself - emotions, even being sick, because somehow the blame goes back to me. And growing up always being compared to that one cousin who does everything better, the critiques about every single little thing. The non-communication. Just arguments and quarrels, and then brush everything under the rug, pretend all is well. 

Which is why it scares me at how things are going with me and the guy I’m interested in... We don’t communicate much/well either. We don’t really have too much in common, we don’t really talk about much. Sure, the small talk is kinda sweet at times, the morning texts, someone checking if you’d eaten. Am I expecting too much too fast? Maybe because I feel like I don’t know him well enough that I can’t say that I truly like him. Maybe my confusion for my feelings confused him. My stress stressed him out. 

There’s also the disappearing mid convos, the selective replying, not initiating, not really keeping up convos... But for some reason I also can’t just let it go. I see it, but I brush it off. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe he was interested but thought I wasn’t interested. Maybe I messed up, maybe a bit too much that it can’t be fixed. 

Or am I just defending him again? Am I being blind-sided because of my feelings, because I’m holding on to the sense of comfort that he gave me when we spoke? Is it because I’m also clinging to the past, the fact that I didn’t try enough back when with the college guy, that he made me so anxious, that this time with this guy I felt comfort with, that I managed to try with, that is still somewhat sorta around? But I also shouldn’t let the past determine my present. 

This whole thing has been going on in a cycle for months. Us talking, things going good, he disappears for a bit, I worry and overthink. Sometimes I try again, sometimes I wait for him to return, and then tell myself to just keep it friendly, but then something happens and I fall again right back into this cycle. 

I thought I picked myself up enough and learnt to love myself. I really did. I was more open and chill, I didn’t really overthink, I had this period of peace and calm. But somehow my insecurities kick in and I seem to lose myself when I find myself catching feelings. I get afraid of how much I show my love that I pull back, and then I start to worry that they’re gonna leave. 

Maybe it’s also the fact that I’m almost 24 and haven’t been in a single relationship. I know, some people would say that’s alright. You don’t need a relationship and all that. But since a long time, I had always known I wanted to get married and have my own family. I wanted to be loved this way. 

Or am I holding on too hard/much? Maybe it’s time to just let it go.

It takes greater strength to truly let go. To resist not sending that one extra text. To stop talking about him, to stop thinking about him. I mean, if he cared, he would try too. He would check in. He would be there. But also, the odd thing is that he does check in at times. Does he still want to keep me as a friend but nothing more? Also, why am I clinging to the bare minimum? Maybe he was interested before but moved on. Things change, people change. It does seem like he’s not really interested in really talking or meeting anymore and is just trying to let me down easy. Maybe it’s just time to come to terms that: He’s Just Not That Into You (yep back to this movie again, and a heartbreak playlist too).

But then again, it’s unfair of me to make the decision for him if he’s never even given the option. I can’t be the one who decides that I’m too much for him or too much of a mess, I can’t be the one who decides whether this is too much of an effort, or something we could work with together. 

Should I tell him? If i do, it might be awkward and weird, good news is at least I don’t really see him around at work anymore. Things probably won’t be the way it was. It might also turn out good. Or I could lose him as a friend forever. 

Also trying to balance wanting to keep him as a friend while moving on. I can’t exactly avoid or ignore him if I hope to stay friends, and it’s not on him since I haven’t told him what I’m feeling. 

Or we could just leave it up to fate? If it works out, it works out. If it’s meant to be, well... But this was something I also considered back then, instead of just leaving it to fate, what if I fought harder? 

See, this is how much I’ve been overthinking every scenario and possibility. I’m truly thankful for my friends for their support and advice, especially when I’ve caused them distress too. Which I’m truly sorry for too. Not just to them, but to my parents, family, colleagues and more. 

I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve noticed that I went from my sunshine personality to stormy again... Being more tired exhausted, the loss of appetite, the mood swings, the sadness, the anger. But then looking at the pics that I’ve taken with friends, that smile. How do I wear my mask so well? 

I had really neglected myself this time while I was busy chasing him, along with the whole stress of work and its changes. Learning to go back and noticing my thoughts, separating myself from them, learning to cope with my overthinking and expectations. Going back to breathing exercises to calm my anxiety. 

And a close friend just told me that I’ve completely changed. Yes, I’m being more open nowadays, but then I’ve been a mess with all these guys and relationship stuff. I’ve been letting myself be more open and befriending guys, but not with the intention of dating, maybe I should be clearer about that? But i mean.. guys and girls can be friends, can’t we? 

But okay, prior to this moment, which I totally agree with her that I’m losing my shit, I was feeling better. I feel like I’ve finally let go some of my expectations (again), and I’m starting to see a glimpse of the old me again. It’s not as painful or upsetting anymore that he isn’t around, I’m just thankful that we’re talking. I’m focusing on other stuff, I’m not dwelling, and I’m able to say or initiate without worrying too much. Maybe that’s just what it has to be. 

I was even able to ask my friend/colleague to eat and chill, super impromptu too (learning from these boys now). It was nice and I really wanted his advice about this whole thing, but I didn’t really know how to. He did ask about him, since they got to see each other kinda briefly, but I guess I didn’t know how to bring it up. And he also had to leave to continue work. Maybe tomorrow. 

And also finally getting to talk to my counsellor again after all these months, maybe even a year or so. It was nice to finally tell her about it, especially the guy stuff, since she knew how things went with the college guy back then. I never tried, I never told him. At least this time I’m trying, still unsure about the telling. But anyway, she said she’s proud of me, and that really meant a lot. 

Also took the step back to 7 Cups, and I found this article about how when we get afraid of hurting others, we in turn cause ourselves anxiety: 

Everywhere you go, you walk on eggshells. You censor each thought, editing your words carefully. You overthink your every move, questioning yourself over and over again. Somehow, your interactions with others never go smoothly, and your conversations always seem to take more effort than they should. That’s what it’s like to live in fear of hurting others. It’s hard to be yourself when you’re constantly worried about how other people will perceive what you have to say and do. When your fear of hurting someone else’s feelings is stronger than your desire to bring who you are and what you think to the surface, life becomes a whole lot tougher.

It’s understandable and commendable to care for others to be mindful of how you treat the people you care about. But it becomes an issue when your sensitivity to what others want makes you suppress what you are truly looking for. Do you find it intolerable to hurt someone you love, even if it’s unintentional? Do you experience shame, guilt, or concerns about being a bad person, and as a result, you avoid saying what’s on your mind and push away your feelings? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you’re probably suppressing yourself. This can be bad for your relationships and can create chronic anxiety in your life.

I’ve also went back to look at some of my old posts, hopefully to get the courage, the reminder that next time I found myself catching feelings, I would tell them. Did come across this nugget from my counsellor: there’s only 3 ways - move on, let it be, or do something. With the college guy, I let it be, I moved on, I had faith that if we were meant to be, we’d find our way back. But speaking with her today, she seems to think it’s not necessary to tell this guy since I’m unsure about it, but if I did want a clear answer, I should. 

Now to take a long shower and decide what’s the best move. Or just to clear my mind. Would go for another walk but went for 2 already today, which I should really make a daily thing, despite being exhausted from work. It’s therapeutic, just as writing this was. It’s time to push myself to do things again, of course not overly that it strains my mental health, but it’s time to break the cycle. 

Thanks for anyone who actually bothered to read any part or the whole of the long ass ramble. Hope everyone is doing alright amongst the whole covid pandemic. 

X

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

I wish you would write a fic where sOMETHING BEAUTIFUL HAPPENS TO KARA AND MON, LITERALLY EVERYTHING, I JUST WANT HAPPINESS!

TICKLISH

In which, on a Sunday morning Kara wakes up and muses about tickling, cold feet, green tea and someone’s glorious backside.

Edited by my one and only @yeratimelordkatniss

Avaiable on AO3—-> (x)

                                                ***

Waking up to a smell of coffee, made by her unexpected-but-welcome-as-hell-hot-boyfriend, was her favorite way of waking up on Sundays.

You could have asked, why was it not waking up to the smell of pancakes or bacon, but Kara had an answer to that: the smell of pancakes and bacon meant the breakfast was already prepared.

And Kara was a simple girl and she loved watching her boyfriend making food. Yep, totally only that.

J’onn, if he had been able to read Krypotrnian’s minds, would have coughed awkwardly and said something about her little obsession about watching someone’s backside.

Uhm, where was she…?

Kara loved watching the WHOLE Mon-El, wearing his yellow “Kiss the cook” apron she’d bought for him some time ago.

The way he was giving his full attention to the ingredients that were always organized on saucers and containers like a little army, ready to be thrown into a pot. Focusing with furrowed brows on the vegetables, cutting identical slices and dices, like he’s been using a ruler. His natural, gracious moves around the kitchen, when, without even looking, grabbed cookware, seasoning or coconut oil. His quiet, happy hummings of Daxamite songs, if the dishes he was preparing looked perfectly, like on pics from food and cooking blogs. The way he exposed his back and swayed his hips while stirring in the pot - she was almost sure he was smirking while doing it, totally aware that she was drooling on the table.

(Did you hear that? That was J’onn coughing in the distance).

Mon-El from Daxam absolutely owned her kitchen in his calm, not invasive and relaxed way, like he was born to become a chef and she was incredibly grateful for that.

Sometimes, she wondered what kind of a man he would have become, if he had been born on a different planet, in a different family.

But did it really matter?

No, this Mon-El was the man for her, the one that Rao has sent to Kara Zor El, like a Space Sleeping Beauty (and hey!, she had a cape and she could totally fit the Prince Charming’s shoes!). Kara wanted him, no one else. Her intimidating, happy go lucky, funny, incredibly skilled in a kitchen and in a bed boyfriend…

Uhm, where was she…?

Lying on her side, Kara slowly opened her eyes.

He was sitting beside her, resting his (glorious) back on the wall, with Lord of The Rings on his lap and a mug in his hand (with a cute labrador puppy printed on it - another gift from her, did she mention that she loved buying him stuff? No?) filled with (Kara sniffed the air) green tea.

Yuck.

Kara grimaced, remembering that one dreadful morning, when he showed his mug into her sleepy hand and cheerfully informed her it was something much, much better than coffee.

Without thinking she took a sip, expecting hot chocolate. When the horrible, bitter green poison hit her taste buds she spat it right back into his mug.

That was the first time in their short but very active relationship, when Mon-El was not amused by her actions. Not. At. All.

But well, for sure it woken her up better than coffee…

The second time when he became fully offended, was during their first cooking-dates. Right after she threw a tomato at him.

The red vegetable splashed on his shirt (oops, the super strength). Mon-El blinked, looked at the stain, slowly raised his head and pierced her with a very disappointed and offended gaze. And then he explained with a cold voice that she wasted a perfectly ripped certified organic tomato from the best plantation in California. And explained in detail how wasting food and natural resources was bad for the environment and as a Krypotnian - she should have known that.

Kara felt like being lectured by a biology professor from her high school. In the end she humbly promised she was not going to waste more food in the future. And she really meant it.

Too bad they BOTH wasted some food during another date when-

Uhm, where was she…?

“How’re the hobbits?” she rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly.

“When I think about it, they remind me of you.” He said seriously.

Kara stopped yawning in the middle and looked at him with furrowed brows.

“You mean I have hairy, smelly big feet and I’m a glutton?” She felt her brows slowly rising and almost meeting her hairline.

“What?” he blinked and looked at her confusedly. “No! Like them, you appreciate good meal! Your feet are perfect! And-” he started frantically praising her body parts and Kara just had to smile.

She leaned into Mon-El and kissed him slowly and sweetly.

The tea in his mug swayed dangerously.

“Oops, we don’t want to kill the mood and waste the tea, hmm?” she mumbled, took the mug from his hand and placed it on a bedside table.

“Mhmmm?” he asked totally dazed, chasing her lips.

With a Kryptonian satisfaction she proudly noticed a small hill that appeared near the area of his covered with blanket hips.

Ha! She, Kara Zor El the prudish Kryptonian, did this!

“Mhmmm?” again, Mon-El mumbled very intelligently.

“Remember the pizza?” she said and smirked when his eyes widened.

Yep. The pizza.

The other time when they decided to combine a date with preparing homemade food. The problem was, that they were both a little more interested in each other than in the most famous Italian dish. Somehow, they managed to put it into the oven and then, rather quickly, they moved to the bedroom.

And when Kara was so, SO close to uhm, you know exactly to what, suddenly Mon-El lifted his head from between her legs, sniffed the air, his eyes widening like saucers as he squeeked, “PIZZA!” and ran to the kitchen with superspeed, almost tripping on his pants that were lying tangled on the floor.

Leaving behind a sweaty Kara, with slightly raised hips and her mouth wide open.

Did she feel offended? As hell! But then he started panicking rather loudly in the kitchen:

“Oh, my fucking Rao! Kara, cheese almost got burnt and it’s crispy! And nooooooo, tomatoes! My precious Californian tomatoes! GRIFE!”

Kara had started laughing so hard that she finally fell from the bed.

Uhm, where was she…?

“But we are not preparing food?” he said lowly, with that special Mon-Elish glint in his gray eyes that promised her something amazing.

Her stomach has had some different plans, tho.

They both blinked when it grumbled rather loudly.

“Are you sure you don’t have a lion there?” Mon-El asked seriously, looking at her stomach, hidden under one of his t-shirts she loved to wear to sleep.

“Yes, and it’s hungry for pancakes,” she said sweetly. “You better feed it or…”

“Or what?”

“Or it will make you sleep on the couch?”

“Sometimes, I think you keep me here only because I cook for you,” he pouted.

“And for sex. Let’s not forget about sex,” she smiled but froze when a shadow clouded over his gaze for a second.

Like he really believed what she’d said.

They really needed to talk about his self-esteem super soon, because on moments like this one, she was almost sure he thought he was not good enough for her.

What was absolutely ridiculous.

But before she could have apologized, he sneaked his hands under Kara’s shirt (well, technically his) and it was her time to squeak.

Kryptonians on Earth were immune to punches, kicks, bullets, hell!, even to rockets. But for some reason they were not immune to Daxamites’ hands tickling them mercilessly.

The first time, when Mon-El had done it, she almost died from laughter. How many years she has spent on Earth, not really feeling the touches humans were giving her?

And then, the former Prince(ss) of Daxam who fell from the sky, gave her something no one else could - an overwhelming feeling of normality.

Too bad Daxamites were immune to Kryptonian tickling. But well, cold Kryptonian feet, sneaked under the covers and laid flat on naked Daxamites’ chests (or asses) worked almost as good as tickling. Few of Kara’s neighbours, woken in the middle of the night by an extraordinary Daxamite scream, could confirm that.

They were lying on the bed, limbs tangled, Mon-El on top of Kara, who was panting and giggling almost hystercially.

And then her stomach grumbled again.

Mon-El sighed heavily and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

“Pancakes?” he moaned with a defeated voice.

“Yes, please,” Kara hiccuped and laughed again.

“Want to join me?”

“In a minute,” she kissed the tip of his nose and watched him leave.

Then she chuckled and spread her limbs on the bed, feeling incredibly happy and fulfilled.

Caresing softly a still warm side of his bed, she decided that she didn’t want to wake up in an empty bed ever again.

And then she smiled broadly when she heard him humming hakuna matata, while cracking eggs and mixing them with flour and milk.

Kara slowly got up and went to the kitchen with a strong resolution to allow him to make the pancakes.

While looking at his glorious ass, of course.

THE END

AN

First of all, feel free to kill me. BUT, I’m dealing with fuckingly massive writer’s block and this one shot, submitted to me by an anon on tumblr, may be a light in the end of the tunnel (let’s hope it’s not a fucking train). I’m in the middle(ish) of writing the third part of The Jolly Disaster (the second is going to appear in few minutes) and then I will finish Accidentally in Love. Cross your salty fingers, guys.

Also, writing it was super fun, so if you have prompts for SHORT ONE SHOTS - send me a pigeon.

Thanks for reading :)

[sturlsons]

B, F, G, K, O

hi!! i hope you’re doing well

B: any of your stories inspired by personal experience? 

i don’t think i’ve ever based the plot of a story on something that happened to me, but 80% of the emotional situations in my fic are variations of real emotions i’ve felt. that being said, some scenes are just straight up lifted off my own life. tsukki and that hangover in jaywalkers (that whole mcdonald’s story is old now), when kuroo tells tsukki to take a shower in heretic, two scenes that come to mind first. other character backstories are often based on mine, just, not everything all at once. someone nearly gets killed in an accident, someone else loses family in one. etcetera. can’t go heaping all the angst on just one person, it’s not conducive to telling a clean story. on a lighter note, any stupid ass thing any character does was probably done by me or my friends in real life. 

F: share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

hmmmmmm. i’ve written some dialogue here and there that made me go HA when i wrote it but the one i can remember off the top of my head (i’m using “top off my head” as a general rule here otherwise i’ll start rereading all my fic and no one needs that) is this one from movers and shakers:

‘I somehow chased you down to this cafe after eight years,’ Youichi says. ‘I don’t know how that happened, but I’ll do it again. I will.’

‘Don’t make this about you,’ Ryousuke sighs, and he’s back to normal, eyes cold and voice cold, the combination that’s always gotten things done. ‘Because the extent to which it is not is going to be embarrassing for both of us.’

and i love it because like i don’t think i’ve ever delivered that sick of a burn in my entire life. THERE’S LEVELS TO IT. and i was like, 20 when i came up with it. i was so proud of myself. it’s so hurtful and cutting and humiliating. classic. 

G: do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write your scenes out of order?

i’m gonna say that a lot of my stories are born from one key scene (not even the climax most of the time) so i usually jot that down first, dialogue or bits of lines or whatever. once i have a plot i usually go chronologically because unless the narration is nonlinear it’s just a bitch to go back and edit in details in retrospect. that being said sometimes a scene is like tugging at my brain so hard that i just decide to write it down first to file it away and get back to work. i usually know the last line of a fic the moment i write the first one, because i almost always come full circle. it’s just one of those things about me that a highbrow critic would probably shit on as being Too Predictable. that being said, i haven’t the faintest how Big Boy is gonna end. never had an idea for s;b either. i hope that means good news. 

K: what’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Big Boy. :^) 

O: how do you begin a story - with the plot or with the characters?

good one. neither. 99% of the time the story starts with a song that i hear in the right place at the right time, and then the prompt and characters come in together. then i, hating myself and my pea-sized brain throughout the process, begin to plot. 

[anon-luv]

When I was Your Man[YoongiXReaderXTaehyung]

When I Was Your Man [YoongiXReader, TaehyungXReader]

One Shot

Angst/Romance

Summary: You never know what you have till you loose it. The happiness, love, and memories a thing of the past. Now as he sees you happy with someone else he is filled with questions of what could have been. 

WordCount : 2,300+

Author’s Note: .... Okay, so in all honesty I don’t know why I did this to myself. I suffered so much while writing it......I ...... I am sorry....but I think it is okay. My ambulance partner kept blasting this song out and then I had an idea.....so this is what I did in my lunch hour. Hope you guys like it! I will edit a bit more later on :D

Based on this Song: When I was Your Man- Bruno Mars

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now

Our song on the radio but it don't sound the same

 The morning was dark and gloomy, just like his life had been these past couple of months. Mistakes had triggered a daily routine filled of loneliness. Even when people crowded his path everything seemed empty. The cold bed he came to everynight a reminder of the warmth and presence it once held. What could have been was no longer a question repeating itself in his head, it now was what he could’ve done to make you stay.

Now at days the silence that filled the room, made him want to scream just so he could hear his own echo. The radio was never turned off anymore, constant music played in order to keep him sane. Everytime the song you would sing to him before you fell asleep played, he would blast it, hoping that at some moment you would burst in singing it off tune, just like you always did, just to make him smile.

He missed you so much.

 When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down

'Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name

 The day you left the guys came over. They did not question where you were, but he could see their curious eyes traveling around the home you had once shared for any clues that you would be coming back to him. You had taken all your stuff. The ghost of your presence still lingered though, in all the bruises and scrapes around the apartment. The hole in the wall that you had made while attempting yoga, now the most beautiful memory engraved in his place.

 “Yoongi, where is (Y/N)??” Taehyung asked curiously. Taehyung had been closest to you out of all his friends. There was obvious worry in his face, which only made Yoongi’s heart crumble even more. If he had shown that much emotion when you said it was over, would you have stayed??

When Taehyung noticed the grim look in his mate’s face he didn’t even think about it twice he walked out. The rest of the boys, tried avoiding the subject, but they were obviously in shock.

Taehyung never returned that night.

 It all just sounds like oooooh…

Mmm, too young, too dumb to realize

 He had blamed it on youth. He had blamed it on immaturity. He had blamed it on selfishness. He had blamed it on being naive.

He was at fault, and all he could do was cry everytime you rejected his call, and curse himself as you ignored his text, leaving him in read.

He was the only one to blame.

He wanted to say sorry. He wanted to say he loved you. He wanted to see your smile, and hear your laugh one more time.

 That I should've bought you flowers

And held your hand

Should've gave you all my hours

When I had the chance

 He had forgotten your birthday this year. The nights in the studio blended in with the days. The clock no longer served a purpose when it came to his work. The inspiration seemed to flow out of him like a river, causing him to become a hermit in his creative mind. The phone in silent as you called over and over again, trying to remind him of the reservation you had talked to him about earlier that morning. The reservations you had made yourself.

You waited for hours on end, giving up after closing time, making  your way back to your shared apartment alone.

Taehyung had been waiting for you outside your apartment a chocolate chip cupcake in hand with a daisy. You allowed him inside that night as you watched Family Guy reruns on the couch as the both of you laughed at every stupid joke. You missed Yoongi, but at least you weren’t alone.

When Yoongi got home the next morning you were laying down in the couch, still in your dress with a blanket covering you, and a lone daisy in your hand.

 Take you to every party

'Cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby's dancing

But she's dancing with another man

 Yoongi remembered the night he met you, he had seen you from across the dance floor in a club dancing to Thriller in a cold Halloween night. Your feet stumbling against eachother. Your lack of dancing skills so obviously present, but your smile never faltered as you shimmied your way to him and introduced yourself.

After you guys started dating you continuously made an effort to drag Yoongi back to where you first had met, claiming you needed to bust a move and let loose. He would reject your offers playfully saying that you were a danger to those around you when you attempted that moon walk of yours. Towards the end of the relationship Yoongi only flat ass said “No”

 My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways

Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life

 Yoongi had always chosen the location of your dates. He had never realized how out of character you acted when he took you to watch action movies, or play mini golf. Your smile was ever present. He now realized that  you were just happy to be with him.

 As he saw your retreating back walk out the door, he was frozen in place. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. It had been a little argument about what to have for dinner, and it had escalated after that. To be quite honest he didn’t even remember why the discussion had turned into full blown yelling competition.

Now that Yoongi looked back, he remembered  your sad eyes staring at him as he got ready for work, and as you muttered a soft “I love you too” right before the door clicked.

Yoongi knew you had loved him with every bone in your body, he loved you too, but unlike you he didn’t appreciate the opportunity live had given him of being loved and to love in return.

He had lost you forever.

 Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, ohh…

And it haunts me every time I close my eyes

 Sleeping alone was a guilty pleasure of his when you were home, and it wasn’t because he despised your presence, but it was because you had a tendency of taking away the covers and occupying the whole bed as you spread out like a starfish leaving him in a little corner and cold.

He missed it though. He missed how your hand always slapped his face early in the morning, serving him as an alarm. He missed your soft snores that lulled him to sleep. He missed your kiss attacks late at night when you woke up for a snack in the middle of the night and didn't want to be alone.

 It all just sounds like oooooh…

Mmm, too young, too dumb to realize

That I should've bought you flowers

And held your hand

Should've gave you all my hours

When I had the chance

Take you to every party

'Cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby's dancing

But she's dancing with another man

 The first time he saw you with Taehyung, was 3 weeks after your break up. Taehyung was holding up a strawberry cone, as you tried to reach for it. The whining of your voice catching his attention right away. Taehyung surrendered it to you after he made you chase him around the park. You looked happy, you looked at ease. Something he had not witnessed in a while.

 2 weeks after he had been a witness to your playful afternoon with his friend, the truth came in like a wrecking ball destroying every bit of hope that he had left that you would come back to him. That you would come back home.

 Taehyung had asked you out, and you had said yes, as long as Yoongi was fine with it.

Taehyung had texted him late that night, and he could tell right away something was off when he asked if they could meet. Taehyung had been absent more often than not to their usual hangout sessions with the gang. At first he didn’t seem to suspect his sudden lack of attendance, but as the weeks rolled by it was more prominent.

 He knew where Taehyung was, when he saw him wearing a friendship bracelet. You loved doing those colorful things, and always managed to attach one to Yoongi’s wrist whenever he was sleeping. That was before though, Taehyung was now the receiver of those sneaky gifts.

 Yoongi let that go…..but now when the time had come for him to let go of his hope, as he heard the way Taehyung’s voice changed when he said your name.

Taehyung had already fallen for you…..had you already fallen for him??

 Although it hurts

I'll be the first to say that I was wrong

 One drunk night Yoongi called you…..

His voice slurred as he professed his endless love for you.

You didn’t hang up. You listened to his pleads for forgiveness as you cried. Your hearat shattering at the sorrow that poured out with every word.

 Oh, I know I'm probably much too late

To try and apologize for my mistakes

 “It’s too late Yoongi” you said as you heard him go silent on the other line….the only sound that could be heard were his shallow breaths and quiet sobs.

“But if you must know….I will always love you”

That night you hang up first, for the first time since you have met him.

 But I just want you to know

 I hope he buys you flowers

 3 years later, and a garden full of roses, your dress white as it flowed with the wind.

You had told Yoongi several times, how you wanted a wedding by the beach, so you could run towards the waves after the “I do”

This was not what he had in mind for your big day.

The wedding was small, and there was no ocean nearby. The green decorations and red roses giving it more of a classy vibe, than a relaxed homey one that you had always wished for.

The music started and his heart stopped once again. Yoongi’s eyes were glued onto your small figure in a white dress. You looked like an angel, with a rose crown around your head. Your smile was breathtaking. Tears formed threatening to spill. You stared straight ahead, while you cautiously walked forward. The heels you were wearing way too tall for you, as your kept casting your eyes down every once in awhile to make sure gravity wouldn’t invite itself to the ceremony.

You could already see the smile decorating his face. He had noticed the trouble you were having as you were making his way to him. You were going to get teased later on, and you knew it. You knew him, and he knew you. You loved him, and he loved you too.

You grimaced at him as you almost tripped. He threw a subtle thumbs up encouraging you to continue.

Once upon a time, you were going to walk up aisle barefoot.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

He now had your back, and you had his.

You searched the crowd, looking for the warmth of the familiar stare that you knew was in the ocean of people surrounding you.

Once upon a time, you were going to invite only the gang and  your parents.

Once upon a time…...

I hope he holds your hand

Give you all his hours

When he has the chance

 He gripped your hand as he looked deep into your eyes while he said his vows. A twinkle of happiness in his eyes, you knew every word was a promise he was going to keep.

He had never broken a promise.

You read your vows as your eyes spilled uninvited tears. He wiped some away with his free hand, only causing more to spill down.

He was sweet, and he would never hurt you.

The kiss was sweet, and then his personality made an appearance as he dipped you and the kiss grew more passionate.

The crowd laughed happily and applauded as he carried you down the aisle, as you kicked your feet shouting for him to put you down before you mooned everyone.

 Take you to every party

'Cause I remember how much you loved to dance

 The venue was too big, and Yoongi felt out of place as he walked through the crowds to get to the nearest mini bar.

“Yoongi? In that much need of alcohol huh” he heard you teasing.

Before he could answer back, he noticed Taehyung making his way to you, looking as excited as a puppy.

“Yoongi!!” he said as he came in for a hug.

“Congrats bro” Yoongi said as he patted his back “Congrats to the both of you”

Yoongi’s eyes were directly fixated on yours now, and a small sense of longing ached in your body. A small one though, and as Taehyung took you away to the dance floor and spinned you around, the ache faded once again.

Taehyung cradled your face in his hands, “I love you (y/N)”

You smiled at the man who had stood beside you through it all “I love you too Taehyung”

Yoongi walked back to his date as he gave you one last glance, he had been a chapter in your book, and Taehyung was your happy ending.

 Do all the things I should have done

When I was your man

Do all the things I should have done

When I was your man

[justothev8man]

I was reading something about if you're having trouble sleeping tips to help fall asleep and one of the tips was about using a happy memory from your childhood which made me realise I do not have even one happy memory from when I was a kid. At best I have couple of very short fleeting images of working on motorbike with my father in this tiny little shed he had in the backyard.

Nothing that even comes close to something I could turn into a happy memory though, the first happy memory I can conjure is not until my early 20's but we will get to that shortly.

Do any of you guys have happy memories from your childhood? I highly doubt I am alone in this?

I'm really apprehensive about writing this in here but one of the tips is to write shit down so here goes, I can always delete it straight away.

I'm prob not going to go back and proof read this so the grammar and spelling is just gong to be as it comes out of my head and gets typed. I often spell incorrectly and have poor grammar on my first edit of things.

I grew up in a very low socio economic area and in a very low income house hold.

my mother was this really overweight, lazy, abusive, manipulate women that use to sit on the couch watching tv and smoking Winfield red cigarette while barking orders at us kids and yelling at us at the top of her lungs. I loved my mother deeply up until my early teens when I started to understand her abuse and oppression for what it was.

She was the type of women that would point out the fault in others or put others down to make herself feel better.

She was nothing but a pathetic little women that pushed everybody in her life and her children and husbands life away and out of our lives so she would never have to admit her own faults and failings.

The old man had two jobs and worked seven days a week. I don't remember him working seven days when we were very young only later on.

When BHP shutdown it hurt the whole of NSW really hard and I think the old man lost his job … I think that would of been the late 80's maybe.

I can remember they had to hide the car and we had to be quiet and pretend we were not home if someone came to the door because they were trying to take the house off us ( bank foreclosure).

So the old man ended up working at some marine company I think, working on the boats and got a weekend job working at a service station.

I remember one time he put his work shirt on (I cant remember the name of the company but it had his work company name, logo etc on it) and he took us kids down to the docks and told the guys on the tug boats who he was and where he worked and they let him bring us all on board while they did a run out to sea with a fucking massive tanker.

I remember him taking us down into the engine room and showing us around and then took us up to the kitchen and the crew gave us food.

I remember being blown away by this fucking huge ship that these tiny little boats towed out to sea and scared shitless when the tug boat went over on this crazy pitch at one stage.

Anyway I don't know why but he ended up leaving or loosing that job and went off to work somewhere else and in my early teens he cut his fingers off at work doing some fucking thing or another.

I have like these almost good memories of riding motorbikes while camping in the bush but we were never allowed to go anywhere on them. My mother would only let us ride them around camp or just up the road a little way and back, she never like us getting far enough away that she would lose control of us.

very very very controlling women, the biggest and most prominent trait I remember of her is her controlling us, she always had to be in control. I HATED her for that as I got older.

I have this memory of a little honda motorbike dad bought us that didn't go and he had it for years until we were big enough to ride it and then I remember working on it with him and his mate in the shed and fixing it up and getting it running.

I have this memory of working on another motorbike engine too that he did a full teardown and rebuild on. His motorbike that he use to ride to and from work.

I remember the first time I saw the pistons inside a v8 with the heads off, blew me away picturing all those violently flying up and down inside the engine. I think it was a Chrysler engine.

I can confidently say that beyond 12 years old I absolutely unequivocally hated even single day of my childhood without question. I DID NOT have one pleasant day beyond 12 years of age.

I was not allowed to go anywhere with my fiends or do anything at all on my own. I had to be home doing the washing and hanging it on the clothes line, doing the dishes, cleaning out the laundry of the dirty litter etc from the cats and dogs.

I have memory after memory after memory of all my friends being off doing this and doing that and myself not being allowed to go. I suffered massive socially at school because of it and never ever had a friend or mate until my mid 20's but I think I also never really made any connections with my friends at school and truly became mate because I was to busy secretly hating everyone and my life and I knew that if I did become mates with them the next time they asked me to come to a party at night or something I would not be allowed because of my mother and I would yet again look antisocial and like a weirdo.

I didn't start to develop a personality until around 17 because I wasn't allowed to be who I wanted to be or have my own opinion in my mothers house. chatting back after being spoken to was absolutely not tolerated and having your own opinion was completely out of the question. To this day I cringe every time one of my nieces tries to back chat or explain her point of view to my brother and he shuts her up and won't listen. it is really really bad to not listen to what your children are trying to tell you and get across their thought or what they are feeling to you. it makes them have to bottle it all up inside. You must listen to your children when to are trying to speak to you and / or tell you what they are feeling!!!!!

this made my teenage years the most stressful and oppressed years of my life to date.

Mother would sit on the couch and if we didn't have any chores to do or disturbed her in any way or prevented her from being the fat lazy cunt she was sitting on the couch she would scream at us to get out of the room or make up some indiscretion for an excuse to send us to our room.

My parents never once spent one on one time with us or sat down and quietly played games or did activities with us or entertained us and bonded with us

my earliest childhood memory is my mother jamming a cake of soap down my throat because I swore or said something wrong. I clearly remember the feeling of feeling like I needed to try and swallow this block of soap.

I think I was maybe 7 or 8 at the time.

I have really vivid memories of several occasions where my mother grabbed my brother and I by the hair and smashed our heads together for doing I don't know what wrong.

Is it the violence or the pain that makes these memories clearer than the others? does anyone know?

Maybe a question for a psychiatrist.

I have this really clear image of my father standing over me while I was lying on my back upon my bed with my knees up to my chest and my arms at either side of my head while he was standing over me beating the fuck out of me until I had an asthma attack from the crying and screaming and couldn't breath.

I remember how much more it stung when he missed our ass with the strap and got my back instead.

I have the most vivid memories of lying in bed listening to my older brother running around the lounge room screaming while dad chased him around beating the shit out of him with his strap and fist and the even more vivid memory of my mother screaming " hit him neal, hit him neal"

As I write this and bring back these memories i'm wondering if I should be crying. I am not. Is that bad?

As I got a little older the beatings became less in their severity and frequency because my asthma attacks started to get worse when he beat me and so he couldn't

I wonder if my asthma became phsyco-symptomatic because I knew he would stop hitting me when my asthma come on.

I don't suffer from it now.

My older brother called the Department of social service after one of my father's beatings when he had a black eye and was covered in bruises. I remember he had to stay home from school because of the black eye and all the bruises and he told me as I left for school that today while everyone was out and he was home alone DOCS where coming to see him.

They came back later in the week and took him away.

I think he was put into foster care initially and then eventually he was placed with my grandparents.

My mother cut off the whole family and I never saw my grandparents again. They died a few years ago with me never getting to see them.

I always hated that I couldn't go to the Christmas parties.

Mum could never admit what she had done was wrong in any way shape or form, everybody else was at fault.

Even my brother was at fault. My mothers poor parenting skills and the reason my brother acted out was all my brothers fault.

I had two brothers but neither of them were intelligent enough to see past what my mother was.

I was the smart kid of the three boys and I only really started to open my eyes to what was going on when I went to high school.

I went to a catholic high school and it was there I saw real parents that supported their kids and treated them with more intelligence and more equally.

I think the only time I had fun was when I skipped school for the day and went and smoked mull under the bridge with the pot heads from school. there is a kind of happy memory I think.

This one time we were under cherries bridge smoking cones and bubba ( guy named Rodney but everyone called him bubba cause that's what his mother called him due to the fact he was the baby of the family) got the munchies real bad and decided to eat one of the poisonous berries that grew under the bridge there.

Fatty (guy named Garth but he was a big boy and even called himself fatty) yelled at him " bubba what did you eat that for they're poisonous man " and bubba turned to me and said " justo am I gunna die now man?" made me piss myself laughing stoned as I was.

There we go I think I found a happy memory!!!!

No bubbas were harmed in the making of this story.

When I was 20 I fell fucking madly in love with this red haired / strawberry blond bitch named Michelle.

I stayed with her and her parents in their family home for a while and it was then that I saw a real family at work and it truly showed me the disfunction of my own.

They were not perfect but they were this supportive family that was not unnecessarily strict and spoke to each other with civility and respect in measured tones.

A grumpy but respectful father and a holy supportive mother.

Tho I had very little in common with either of her parents I entirely respected them and still do to this day 20 years and another life later. I haven't seen or heard from them in many years but I bet they are still the same people I remember them to be.

My early 20's were my happiest years to date. I had a real friend or two for the first time in my life, people I could call mates and I could go out and enjoy myself with them and have a personality and a life. I was in love and in lust. I was happy.

I think I made it through the 80's being to young to know if I was happy or not. I think I spent the 90's entirely in dread, all I remember is stress and hatred.

Actually I think stress and especially hatred sums my 90's experience up perfectly.

The early new millennium I learned what happiness could look like.

Who else remembers their childhood as a stressful unhappy time? we all have a difficult childhood don't we? especially our teenage years? or am I unique.

Writing this reminds me that even now I need to try and strive to find happiness and fun in life and try to produce the same for my immediate family.

Grab your kids and go make some happy memories with them. Do something THEY will wholely enjoy and remember as a fun day in their childhood.

[sinfully-romione]

Gilded Cage

Sins: Envy

Rating: M/18/R

Summary: Ron receives an assignment that is the last thing he’d ever do willingly.

“That is your assignment, Weasley. Griping about it won’t make your case easier.”

Ron ignored the comment. “Why am I stuck with the shit assignment? This git got what he wanted!” Ron refused to mention that Harry’s assignment for bodyguard duty would be entirely too close for normal public consumption.

“Every Auror on staff is protecting someone right now,” Director Gawain Robards growled, “including me. I’m protecting the bloody Bulgarian Coach. Sorted?”

"It’s cocked up.”

“Yes it is. Blame the sod who sent the note. Anything else, Weasley?“

Ron realized that he was going to have to suck it completely up for the next sixty hours. "I need an hour, to pack a ruck for this assignment.”

“One hour. A minute late and I’ll have you chasing rabid werewolves in Northern Ireland by yourself if you’re late.”

“Yes, sir.” Ron trudged out from the Director’s office, completely beastly for his assignment for the next sixty hours. He needed to tell Hermione he had an assignment, not a real mission, and he’d not be home ‘til early Monday morning.

Fuck all of them.

After a ride on the lift to the third floor, where Hermione’s office was, he walked in. As usual, she was the only one in the water closet that masqueraded as an office.

“Ron!” She jumped out of her seat and danced around the stacks of parchment, wholly intending to snog him breathless.

“I can’t stay long. I have to run home and pack a ruck for the next couple of days.”

“You have a mission, don’t you?”

“It’s not really a mission but more like an assignment.” He looked over and saw the morning edition of the Daily Prophet on her desk and scowled at the face on the front. “Why the bloody hell are they featuring that muttonhead again? Everyone including Aunt Muriel know he’s the top international Quidditch seeker in the world but they’ve had him on the front page three damn days now.”

“It’s the Quidditch World Cup Qualifier, Ron,” Hermione added without taking her eyes off of her newlywed husband. “I thought you’d be thrilled considering your sister is featured too.”

“I am, but they put her on the last page, in fine print, about being the new addition to the team. It’s like they are giving the Bulgarian bastard a verbal knob job. It’s disgusting, the amount of press that idiot gets from the newspaper.”

"And you’re ghastly because it’s Viktor and not the seeker for the English team?”

“Of course I am. The ruddy pumpkinhead isn’t English so he shouldn’t be the one featured in an English Wizarding newspaper three days in a row.”

“You’re jealous.”

“That sod?” He made a disgusting noise. “Bloody bastard was groomed to it. He’s not had to work a day in his life except ride his sodding broom. No one has the bollocks to tell him he’s a shit seeker.”

"Ron, it’s been years. What’s going on?”

Ron’s wand rattled and he put it to his ear. His expression changed, to outright anger. He growled a few vile things before turning towards the door. He stopped when Hermione shoved herself between him and the door.

“I’m sick of hearing about him. I’m sick of the way everyone is on their knees for him. There’s plenty of other Quidditch players who are as deserving of accolades.”

“Ron, stop.”

“No, I won’t. And now I have to be on a bloody mission guarding that sod and not being with you.”

“You didn’t choose this?”

“No. I’m on duty because someone owled in a kidnapping threat. Harry’s unavailable. I have the sodding job. Fuck everything.”

She kissed him on both cheeks before a burning kiss. “Come back to me.” Her fierce look would be the last he’d see of her for almost three days.

“Yes, dear.” He opened the door and stalked out, pissed at the world for very good reason.

The team of Aurors landed at the designated spot outside the stadium, well away from anyone. Ron looked around and recognized the area. “We’re here? Shit!” He was the last to take off for the player’s entrance, on the side of the stadium. A few patrons were wandering around while waiting to enter the facility. Their briefing before leaving via portkey said the players were already present and waiting on the Aurors before they could start practice – or leave.

The group entered the security gate in front of the stadium and were checked a second time by a supervisor from MLS. Once each was cleared, the two groups started to split.

“Asshole.”

“Quit bitching, Ron.”

“Look who’s talking, git. You get to protect Ginny. How’d you manage that?”

“I asked. Look, the only one who was really threatened was Krum. You’re the best – “

“Am not. Why aren’t you guarding him?”

“I asked so shut up. You have the duty. You’re faster than I am and won’t be goggle eyed if you’re guarding him, since you can’t stand him.”

“Damn right.”

“Do your job, don’t cock it up and keep your eyes open and wand ready. Hermione’s waiting on you to come home.”

“Don’t bloody remind me.”

Harry took off towards the Harpies locker room, leaving Ron to make his way to the visitor’s room, where the Bulgarians were holed up. He passed a gathering of patrons and media idiots with Director Robards and one other Auror, intent on getting to their facilities.

“You pulled us away from our families, for these gits?”

“The minister considered it a credible threat. It wasn’t my idea to owl the threat to the Owner of the Bulgarian team. I said it was rubbish but Kingsley overrode my decision. He said it was worth having all hands on station, just in case. Notice I’m here too?”

“It’s bollocks. Krum is the last person who anyone would kidnap. Every law enforcement group would hunt them down. He’s already protected.” Ron scanned the gathering in the hallway. “No one gives a flying fuck about the Bulgarians,” he said under his breath.

Robards heard his muttering. “You dumbass. Bulgaria is the odds-on favorite to win the Quidditch World Cup this year because of Krum. You take him out and there’s plenty who would make galleons hand over fist just on the odds. You know there are sods who bet on Quidditch.”

“What’s the spread? Maybe I should bet on the English team.”

Robards stopped and backed Ron into a wall, away from everyone.

“Potter told me you have a hard-on for Krum. I don’t give a shit but you aren’t to mix work with anything else. I would have put you with the English coach but that idiot said they wanted a Senior Auror protecting them. Hemera has that job and you weren’t it. You’re next best in the department so you got the duty protecting Krum. You can’t take this lightly.”

“Sod him and his bloody broom.”

“Shut your hole, Weasley. The Bulgarians will hex anyone who makes that comment loud enough about him. They love him as much as you love Harry and Hermione, if not more. You keep your hands off of him.”

“Bollocks and bullshit. I can’t stand the git. I have no intention of touching him, much less wanting to fuck him, whatever Harry said. I’m married, as you well know!” Ron held up his left hand, showing the goblin silver ring on his finger.

“No one asked for your pissbaby opinion,” Robards drew him up short. “I don’t care a lick if you got shorted for giving the whole bloody team knobjobs. You’re an Auror and will do your job or I’ll punt you to Glasgow. Understand?”

“Sorted, sir,” Ron barked back and refused to say another word.

Robards looked up and down the tunnel. No one else was in the immediate vicinity.

“Now that your pants are straightened, here’s what I know. The Director of the Sports and International Cooperation department received an owl saying that there was going to be a kidnap attempt on Krum’s life. We have bailiffs from MLS crawling over the stadium but your task is to be Krum’s bodyguard until his arse is on the portkey for Argentina. Hell, I even called in Longbottom to be the Auror on duty with the trainers and support staff. Sorted?”

Ron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from complaining of his duty.

“Pissed you off, have I? Good; means you’ll be too busy watching your back and keeping Krum safe than fawning like a school girl crushing on the star. Now get in there and keep that bloke from being kidnapped.”

“Just me? Full shadow duty? No one to replace me?”

“Only you, full shadow duty and no replacements. The match is Sunday at Puddlemere but the teams are practicing here for safety reasons. He’s not to leave your sight until he’s on that portkey at 2am Monday morning.”

“Probably wants me to hold his cock too for a piss,” Ron grumbled.

“No but if you keep whining, I’ll tell him to make you wipe his ass. Now get in there and keep him where he’s supposed to be. I have to go deal with a diva coach.” Robards went up the tunnel and away from the locker room.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Ron pouted and pushed his way into the locker room. Like the one at Hogwarts, yet different, the visitor’s locker room was spacious by comparison, with cozy leather chairs around the room, and nice lockers for the player’s gear. It was also raucous, if Ron could guess at the language being shared between the players. The charm on his ears was working as expected.

“You, you’re the Auror for Krum?” A wizened wizard asked him. “I asked for two of you.”

“Auror Weasley. Sorry sir, but I was informed I was the only one for Viktor.” Ron pulled his credentials from his cloak pocket to show to the elderly wizard.

“I asked for two, including Harry Potter. We want him too. Tell your Minister I insist.”

“My apologies sir, but he’s unavailable.” Ron didn’t want to divulge that Harry was protecting his sister and probably closer than he wanted to think about.

“They sent you? Thank goodness,” a voice broke through the cacophony. The two men turned and saw Viktor walking up. “I trust you’re here on business?” His accent was less than the last time Ron remembered speaking with him. Ron nodded. “Is Dragomir being protective? He usually is when it deals with me.” The older wizard scowled. “I get these threats daily wherever we go. The mysterious owls threatening to hurt me, hex me, seduce me,” the old wizard opened his mouth and closed it. Viktor went on. “I told them this was nothing but they don’t listen to me. ‘You’re too important,’ they tell me.”

“You know this man?”

“I do.” Viktor smiled. “Tell me the last time we talked.”

“My brother Bill’s wedding. Fleur invited you. You went mental over – “

“This is Ron Weasley, one of the heroes of Hogwarts. He’s Harry’s partner in the Ministry Auror Corps and one of the best men I’ve met. He’s as important as Harry here.” Ron blushed. “Auror Weasley killed the notorious werewolf Greyback the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t do it by myself,” Ron muttered under his breath.

“Well, then, I can see that the English took what I said seriously about the kidnapping attempt.” He turned to leave the locker room. “This man knows to not to leave your side until we depart England. Is that correct?”

“Sorted, sir.” The elderly wizard pushed his way out the green doors, leaving Ron in the locker room.

“Well, come along. Welcome to my oversized kelpie bowl.”

Ron followed Viktor back to his corner of the spacious facilities, where there were numerous journalists, yelling over one another to ask him questions about the exhibition match Sunday against the English team. Viktor sat down in the plastic chair in front of his locker, letting the towel around his waist flare over his knees, and sat for an hour answering questions, in Bulgarian and accented English from all of the journalists. Ron waited while Viktor answered every single question and ignored the two reporters who inquired about his presence by Viktor’s side. Director Robards said no media and he meant it. One by one the reporters eventually departed, leaving Ron and Viktor alone in the locker room.

“I’d tell you to go home to Hermione if Dragomir and Bogdan didn’t insist. But they have, whether it’s legitimate so you’re stuck with me.” Viktor looked Ron up and down once. “You’re taller than I remember and I think you will discourage anyone daring to try anything. But since I have to go with the team, we’re going to a pub in town and having a pint. Zdravko says I can only have two the entire night and I have to charm the glass so no one tries to sneak a potion into it. With you here, no one would dare do a thing while we’re out.”

Ron stepped aside and reached for his ear. He listened behind a non-verbal charm, for privacy. “Sorted, sir,” he said and let the charm disappear.

“Problem, Weasley?”

“The director said that my sister got the same threat. It’s a good thing that she already has protection for the match. Too bad we’ll be missing brunch with Mum at the Burrow. She won’t like all of us being missing because of work.”

“The Burrow?” Viktor asked.

“That’s the name of my parent’s home. You were there for the wedding. Mum cooks weekly for the kids who are around. But that’s the day of the match so I won’t be able to go. Harry and Ginny won’t be there either, since Harry’s on guard duty and Ginny is flying for the English team. Percy and George might be there, along with Bill and Fleur and their kids.”

“It’s nice that your Mum dotes on the family so much,” Viktor injected before a well-dressed wizard walked up.

“Viktor dear, you’re still not ready for the interviews. Get dressed and be in the interview room in five minutes. You’re already late.” The wizard walked off, storming through the doors and yelling something Ron didn’t catch with his augmented hearing. He’d have to thank the nice witch in the Department of Magical Cooperation for the spell that helped translate Bulgarian for him.

“Who was that?”

“That’s Anatoly, the Public Relations director. I have to meet with more reporters from home.” Viktor stood, still looking slightly knock kneed and pigeon-toed. “Welcome to my world.”

Ron kept his eyes outward but stole a glance at the man he was sworn by duty to protect. Ron towered over the international Quidditch star by inches, and probably had him by some pounds, too. He was skinny, much like Harry used to be until he went into the Aurors. In some ways, he did look like he had a boy’s body, even if he was terribly hairy – considerably more than Harry. He could pass for a werewolf, the amount of hair on Viktor’s chest. Ron stepped away from Viktor, to give him a moment’s privacy if he wanted.

“You English are so prim. I have no problems changing in front of anyone. If I hid to preserve my modesty, I’d never get anything done.”

Ron kept his eyes away but saw out of the corner of his eyes Viktor dropped his towel on the ground. He had his pants on, thankfully. He dressed quickly, like a man used to running from interview to interview. Ron bit his cheek to keep from noticing that Viktor had name-brand trainers and attire to interview in, aside from his uniform. The last things Viktor put on were an expensive watch and a gaudy pinky ring on his right hand.

“This might be awkward for you, Auror Weasley,” Viktor’s English was well-practiced. “But with the spell, you might not pick up everything in the interview in a minute. The home country media, they badger me. Let them since I’m used to it.”

“They do?” Ron asked.

“Yes, they do. They ask if I have a girlfriend. They ask if I have seen my parents. What do I think about politics at home and in the region? No matter what, they want a nice quote, whether it’s accurate or not, for the papers and radio. But the team wants no drama or anything that would make them look bad. They want me looking a certain way and repeating what Anatoly tells me to say. It’s all quite boring, really.”

Viktor stood up and Ron followed, walking down the tunnel a few meters to the press room. They walked in and were swamped. Ron kept his wand in his hand, shoving Viktor forward through the press of bodies trying to get a soundbite before Viktor made it to the dais for the interview.

Ron saw a door behind the dais. “We leave the back way once you’re done.” Viktor nodded.

Ron stood at the doorway, with his arms crossed and watching everyone in the room. He picked up bits and pieces of what was being asked – in Viktor’s native Bulgarian – and Ron barely listened until –

“Is that your new boyfriend, Viktor Krum?”

“Him? No. He’s English Security for the next few days. I’m fortunate to know this Auror. I’ve known him since my early days of my Quidditch career.”

“But he looks like your type.” Ron felt his ears turning red and kept his face neutral. Viktor gave Ron a side-eye and smirked. He turned back to the press gaggle and laughed. “I don’t have a type, not at all. I’m married to Quidditch and the national team.”

“But we thought you were dating someone like this man.”

“Dating? Who has time for dating? I play professional Quidditch, in two leagues. It’s the off-season for my club team and I’m on tour with the Bulgarian National team, with World Cup qualifier matches. I’ve not been home in four months. So when and how do I have time to have a relationship with someone?”

“But the Sophia Broomstick said you were dating – “

Viktor waved his hand, like batting away a beetle. “That rag? It’s not even worth the ink to print it.”

Ron tuned out the rest of the press briefing, since most weren’t talking Quidditch. But then again, while standing in the doorway to the press room, watching the magpies and vultures try to tear into an International Quidditch star reminded him of Harry’s treatment so many years ago – loving him one minute, castigating the next.

“No more questions, gentlemen,” Anatoly the posh wizard interrupted. “We have another appointment.” He grabbed Viktor by the collar and Ron put a wand in his face. “Until I’m off duty, you don’t touch that man. Understand?” His quiet voice scared more people than his yelling ever did.

The other backed off. “But we have to be at the next appointment in five minutes.”

“So? We’ll be fashionably late. They’ll understand.” Ron saw Viktor grin slightly and make his way towards the back door of the room.

“Thanks,” Viktor muttered while they went back to the locker room to grab his items. “Anatoly has a habit of touching me. I’m used to it. I never thought it was strange.”

“How long has he worked for the national team?”

“He’s worked for my club team for ten years. This is his first time for the national team.”

“He could easily slip you a poison while touching you. I can’t allow it.”

“He’d never. He’s the owner’s son.”

“And Draco Malfoy would never stoop to murder, unless his git of a father is involved. Nonetheless,” Ron started and Viktor grunted at the comment.

“Then we can keep him at arm’s length right now.”

Ron followed Viktor back to the locker room and watched as he packed his expensive dragon skin overnight bag. “Got everything you need? Who is seeing to your things to your room?”

“I do. Boris, the team trainer, he will take my things to my room. I charm it anyway so only I can open it.” Viktor put on his silver bracelet. “See this? I put this bracelet on last. It’s never left out and stays in a sealed compartment in my bag. My bashta had it made from goblin silver when I was named starting Seeker for the Bulgarian National team at 18. It’s probably the thing I most prize, now that my bashta is retired. I bought my parents their doma, their home, once I signed my second contract. I owe them everything, for helping me get here. I take care of them above all else.”

“And a family of your own?” Ron asked quietly.

“Who has time for that when you’re busy at Quidditch?”

Ron winced. “Not even a bird for an evening?”

Ron followed Viktor out of the stadium, shortening his stride to match the man next to him. He had plenty of practice walking with Hermione and shuffled his size 12s easily. Viktor was a magician on a broom and clumsy on his feet, walking like he already had 2 shots of whiskey in him.

“I can’t get a bird past the team trainers for a night. They might turn a blind eye if I brought a bloke back to the room but the photographers would see but I’d never hear the end of it. Anatoly would tattle on me to Pyotr, his father, and I’d be sacked for dishonoring the team and the club. That can’t happen. So no, there are no blokes or birds for me, not during the season.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s lonely going back to the room every night, sober and without any companionship. The owner protects me from myself and others since I’m considered the country’s superstar. They don’t want any bird acting like a niffler, getting pregnant and besmirching my reputation. Besides, witches realize who I am and they want with me because I’m famous and rich, not Viktor Krum from Kotel so I can’t get pissed at a pub, I can’t catch a bird, can’t shag a bloke, and can’t have the fun that the others have.”

Ron took a look at the man next to him. Unlike when he was much, much younger, he really looked at the man next to him. He was shorter than him, by some inches, and while most would say he was fit, Ron saw the way he walked and the slump in his shoulders. They walked, passing various homes and the occasional alleyway.

“Mind if I ask you something, something slightly personal?”

“It’s about Hermione, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it’s long ago.”

Viktor smiled, ignoring the others walking the other way on the sidewalk. “She was very kind to me, and so polite. When she would talk, it was about schoolwork and such, mostly to break the silence while I was trying to do mine. It was nice because she didn’t see me as a Quidditch star, but a nice wizard who asked her out.” Viktor gave Ron a glance. “We stayed friends and still are, I think. You know, she mailed me a letter, telling me all about you, some years ago.”

“What?” Ron stopped.

“She is so proud of you, especially for being accepted into the Aurors. Her letter, it was 10 pages, while she was attending Hogwarts, and you were off at training. She was praising your name. Every page had something about you in them. She told me what she was planning, what goals she had, but she also thanked me for being there to listen, and for being the man she needed when you, how shall I put it, ‘couldn’t figure out she was a girl.’”

Ron turned beet red. “I was nothing in comparison to you, ever.”

“Sure you were. But she was never really interested in me, not the way she was for you.”

“Did you,” Ron couldn’t finish the sentence. He felt sick for even thinking the thought. He cocked up most of his sixth year because of the envy that Viktor got to kiss Hermione first, and not him. His fear of rejection hurt so much then, and felt like a phantom ache now. He’d never forget how sixteen year old Ron felt those stabs of jealousy, for something that happened two years prior.

“I did, but I was a gentleman. I asked. She agreed. And I behaved as a gentleman. She was sweet but she was also 15. See, she was my first kiss.”

“Bollocks.” Ron growled. “Surely there were witches at Drumstrang who turned your head?”

“There wasn’t. Quidditch was all I was interested in until I came to Hogwarts and I met Hermione. I’ve had others since, but only the three of us – “

“No, my sister and Harry and another bloke know – “

“Oh. Well, a small group of us only know about Hermione. I never told another soul. I never would. It would be rude. It would disrespect her. I value her as a friend to treat her that way.”

“Really?” Ron felt the sixteen year old inside, the one he kept locked away in a particular loo, screaming bloody murder for making an epic mess of things along with fourteen year old Ron who was jealous of… absolutely nothing of importance. Thank Merlin he grew the fuck up.

“She saw me as Viktor, not Viktor Krum, World Class Quidditch star. She saw a lonely awkward young man and treated me like a normal wizard, not a world famous one. She’s my friend, when I have so few. I wanted to protect her reputation. I cherish our friendship.” Viktor took off walking again, and Ron easily kept up.

“You did. I didn’t find out for a few years. But people gossip, especially at Hogwarts.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that so many knew.”

“Word traveled fast enough, once it got out.” Ron refused to mention the epic row he had with Ginny that started it all.

Viktor stopped in front of a closed storefront. “Hermione is an incredible witch, and I am fortunate she’s my friend. But there was nothing there between us, not compared to you. I couldn’t compete.”

“Me? I’m – “

“You were the one who turned her head every time you walked in the room. I realized she fancied you long before she met me. I was a distraction but she was entirely too kind to say anything. It didn’t keep me from noticing.”

“But she – “

“Nonsense,” Viktor turned and started walking towards the pub again. “She was the first friend I made who didn’t like me for Quidditch. Do you know how important that was, at the time? Yes, I fancied her but she didn’t feel the same way. So I was happy to have her as a friend, and nothing more. So when we write to one another, I talk about work, and travels, and how boring things are when I’m not in the air in front of 50,000 screaming fans. I talk about my mother baking at home when I am there, or my father puttering in the garden of the house I bought for them. You know, trivial things, things that almost no one else except my parents are interested in. It’s nice to have a friend who is genuinely interested in your life outside of your work. It’s nice having someone who has no interest in bedding you and causing a scandal.

“And when she writes me, she brags so much about you. I can see why she fancied you, even if you didn’t see it then. After a while, I came to envy the life she has with you, and want that for when I find someone to have a family.”

“Really?” Ron’s voice threatened to break like he was still 14.

“You figured it out. Hermione told me about getting married to you. She sent an invitation but I didn’t come. It would have been rude to you. You got the girl who adores you. You have a job that you chose, not one chosen for you when you were small and pitiful. You have those purple wands that so few get unless you’re dead.” Viktor stopped and Ron halted, towering slightly over Viktor. “You have what I covet, and that’s freedom. Sure, you have a job that requires so much – but you chose it. You can say sod all and walk away from it, if you want.”

“Not if I want to eat,” Ron said. “Bloke has to pay rent, you know?”

Viktor ignored it. “What I’m saying is that you have choices, in your life, career, and the love of a wonderful woman.” Viktor motioned towards Ron’s hand and his ring finger, seeing his own goblin silver ring on the third finger. Viktor took a deep breath. “I don’t have anyone to wake up to, and for that, I will envy you. For it to be Hermione, who is beautiful, brilliant, completely kind, and warm-hearted, well, that makes it that much more. When I do meet someone, they will have to live up to Hermione, unfortunately, and I have lived enough to know that there are few like her.”

“You could walk away,” Ron yelled after Viktor’s retreating back. He ran the few meters to catch up. “I know it’s Quidditch and all, but you could retire.”

“I could, but what else could I do? Quidditch has been my life since I was a small child. I know nothing else. I have a career that lets me travel and provide for my family where they don’t have to work ever again. But I also have to pay lawyers so the taxes are paid everywhere I travel, an accountant to make sure the lawyers are paid, and a nutritionist who travels with the team so I can eat right but not gain any weight, which is in my contract. This doesn’t include the business manager, to make sure that my money is tended and a personal assistant, to make sure that I don’t miss any appointments or public relations events.”

“That’s messed up.”

“I do not have my own life. I do what I am told, where to be, how to smile, which way to hold my broom, which broom I am to fly, and what to eat. I’ve not had a woman in my bed in six months and it will probably be another six before I am allowed to have a woman for the night. She will be someone who might catch my eye but she will have to pass three people before she is allowed to spend the night.”

“You could retire. You’ve been doing it long enough.”

“I could, but I’d have nothing else to do, since Quidditch is my life. What would I do?”

“You could bed any bird you want,” Ron cheeked. Viktor shook his head. “Have you ever come across a bird like Hermione besides Hermione?”

“I’ve not met a woman who hasn’t been screened in years. All of them are either with other players or off limits because they are married. Besides, I find most women are silly. They talk of pretty things and spending galleons but few want to know me. That’s what made Hermione special – she could talk of so many things, none of which were related to Quidditch.

“And a wizard? My parents would die of shame if I did that and it made the papers. I do enjoy the company of men, too, but they only want to talk Quidditch. They are only interested in the Quidditch Viktor, not the man.  Now you see my problem?”

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“I am. But we can at least drink some, listen to bastards make claims to my feats, and have a fun night at the pub. But I can’t get too drunk and you can’t drink. We have to watch for the occasional bird to slip me a potion to bed me. I can’t have little Viktor running around a year from now.”

“No, that would be cocked up.”

Viktor stopped on the edge of the pub, looking at his issued bodyguard. “You know Weasley? I like you. I see why Hermione likes you too. You listen well and give a shit.”

“Well, I am on duty.”

“But you’re not obligated to listen to me whine about my life.”

“You’re not whining. I do that well enough. I’m practically a professional. You’re just talking shite, like most blokes I know do.”

“Come. Let’s flirt with some birds we can’t bed and drink some bad beer.”

“When do you have to return to your room?”

“My contract says I have to be in my room for the night at 11pm and lights out at twelve. You, Hermione’s husband, have a very uncomfortable chair in the hallway to sit in.” Viktor shook his head. “You’re a professional. I know you will find time for a nap somewhere and sometime.”

“Probably when you’re in team meetings and I can sleep in a chair in the room.”

“Why do you think we have portkeys? I can’t sleep in chairs anymore. It’s too hard on the body after too many bludgers to the back.” Viktor slapped him on the back. “Come. There must be some dragon piss known as beer in here. I’ll even introduce you around. I’m sure my teammates want to meet Auror Weasley and buy you some butterbeer.”

“Me?”

“News spreads even to Bulgaria.”

The two men opened the door to the pub and were greeted with raucous yells from those inside.

Ron stepped into their flat and dropped his cloak and jacket in the rickety chair. He unzipped his boots and toed them off, letting them clunk on the other side of the chair. He knew he was getting in extraordinarily late but the Portkey was for 2am and he’d be arsed if he didn’t see his duty through with the Bulgarian National team. Then he’d had to check in with the supervisor on duty before coming home.

He padded back to their bedroom, ignoring Crookshanks in his little pallet by their bedroom door, snoring lightly in the darkness.

He opened the door and saw the candle still flickering, and Hermione sitting up in their bed, reading a book. She looked up, smiled, and he melted. “You’re up. Why are you up? It’s after four in the bloody morning.” Christ, she was a sight for very sore eyes and a very tired arse.

“I wanted to greet you when you finished your assignment. I took today off because I thought you would want my company,” she blushed slightly, using the euphemisms that made him laugh.

“Hermione, if you’ve not noticed, I’m not 14 anymore.” He stripped out of his jumper and t-shirt, along with his trousers and socks, leaving him in bright orange and black Cannon’s boxers she bought for him a few years ago.

“Well, your pants betray you.” She lifted the bedclothes and he slid in, snuggling up next to her.

“I was wrong about Viktor,” Ron started. “I was so wrong about him.”

Hermione turned to him after putting a bookmark in and laying the book aside. “Regarding what, Ron?”

“I was such a twat, at 14. I would be pissing and moaning if I had the life Viktor leads, with people telling him constantly what he has to do on a daily basis. Sod can’t do a bloody thing without approval from three people.”

“So you finally saw what I’ve known for years?”

Merlin keep Hermione. She didn’t smirk or natter on about told you so’s he’d hear from Harry and Ginny. Ron snuggled into her side and put his head on her shoulder, blowing breath across her chest. “Well, yeah, I did. It’s rubbish when Mum owls, telling me to come visit more often, and I can’t because I’m working too bloody much, either for the Ministry or for George. But Viktor? He has no life. He can’t go see his parents because he’s traveling so much. Sure, he’s an Internationally Famous Quidditch star, and makes gobs of galleons, or whatever the Bulgarian wizarding currency is, and has so many people wanting a piece of him every single second of the day, but you know what else? He has zero freedom, has like twenty people telling him what to do every second of the day, and he doesn’t have a moment’s peace, even while taking a piss. He was shaving before his match and he had three people in the loo with him, with one telling him the English game strategy, and another discussing his endorsement contracts in Bulgaria – for a cereal, of all things, and his nutritionist informing him that he needed more fiber in his diet.” Ron looked at Hermione with a slightly green tinge. “I won’t even tell you how the team nutritionist knew that. And that doesn’t even include his personal chef who was constantly busy cooking his meals that looked like rubbish and tasted even worse. I know. I shared breakfast with him and it was worse than you get at the canteen at the Ministry. Your cooking is loads better than that rubbish.”

Hermione pinched his cheek and he laughed.

“I can guess since it’s probably close to what professional models have to endure. You’ve seen them on the telly at my parents place – well, at least the world class ones that you think are entirely too skinny.”

“Well, they are!” Ron retorted. “Anyway, he might make galleons hand over handle, but he won’t have a real day away from everyone for at least another six months, way he tells it, and hasn’t in six months. I took a look at his planner and everything is mapped out, such as when he wakes, works out, eats his meals, including what he eats, who he’s to meet with, when to practice, what exercises he does, when he gets his massage, and all of the other rubbish. He might have ten minutes a day total to himself.”

“Are you now happy with what you have? You’ve decided that you don’t want to throw away everything you’ve worked for and be a Quidditch groupie, following around Viktor for every match?”

“Fuck no! I’d be a groupie for the Cannons, if you let me.” Hermione laughed and Ron did too. He finally settled down into her side, relishing he could have these times to talk with her without interruption.

“Have you finally decided that you don’t envy Viktor anymore, that you have nothing to envy?”

“Well, it’d be bloody nice to be so wealthy that you can play Quidditch professionally and not have to otherwise work, or have barmy blokes trying to kill you daily, but I’d be completely spare if I had someone telling how much to eat every day – what to wear – meeting people every hour without an hour to sit on my arse, drinking a butterbeer and listening to the wireless.  He has the glory, attention and affection of thousands, but he’s so lonely. He’s not seen his parents in almost a year and hasn’t seen his friends for months, all because of Quidditch.”

“What are you getting at, Ron?”

“He lives like a prisoner – sure, it’s a magnificent gilded cage – but I have things that he doesn’t, like you, and can shag my wife when I want while he’s left bereft for months on end for tournaments. He looks like he has everything he’d ever want in life, but he’s nothing more than a glorified poppet, flying for an owner who uses him and – “ Ron pulled Hermione on top of him, letting her feel every inch of him.

“I’m tired of talking about Viktor. I rather snog you.” He pressed Hermione down into the bedclothes, appreciating how responsive she was to his needs. She eventually pushed him off and onto his back and straddled his waist, removing the vest she had on. “So you’re happy with the life you have?”

Ron stopped moving so he could appreciate his wife out of her kit. “I am so bloody content with my life. Viktor wishes he had what I have.”

“Does that include me?” she softly kissed him. Ron reciprocated with everything into his kiss with Hermione, smiling through it all.

“Absolutely. Viktor envies me.”

[no-more-cream]

Survive pt 5

Rated (R) : Violence, Cursing

Sorry guys.. It kind of sucks and I honestly hate it but I wanted to get it out to you guys. Dx 

Sorry in advance.

Jungkook x Reader

Ima edit later and make it better. For now please enjoy.

-Admin K

Not sleeping seemed to be a normal habit for you now and days. You were always on guard, always watching for those flesh craving freaks. You always wondered how the rest of the group slept all the time. How they can even close their eyes even for a second in this decaying world we call home. No one can be trusted… you’ve seen too much death.. Too much violence in your lifetime. Even before the world went to shit.

You don't even see an animal in the world anymore. When was the last time you saw a squirrel run past you up the tree getting ready for the harsh winter to come with its stash of walnut nuts? Oh god how much you missed the chirping of birds in the trees or hell, those annoying bees buzzing in your ears..

When was the last time you felt a little dog’s tongue against the palm of your hand as a way of showing love? Although it's not like you got that much either before the epidemic started anyways. All you did was train and work. Here and there you'll pet one of the military German Shepherds to show appreciation when they helped search for things like hidden mine bombs and what not.

Although your memory fails to work after a year you will always remember that terrible day.. You were with your military dog-which you only had him for a week- searching for anything to be unordinary.  You took the lead this time to test out your new dog’s skills. Apparently he was known to be the best in the whole military. Although you aren't supposed to name the dogs so you don't get attached you did anyways, because this dog was your dog. You wanted him to be more than a military dog. It was the only thing that really kept you company. He was family.

His name was Reggie. You should of listened to Reggie that night, he knew something wasn't right. You should of listened to him when he was trying to pull back and retreat. You didn't listen..

You never listen to anyone..

The sounds of the bombs exploding and hearing Reggie yelp in pain as you both flew away from the explosion winds. Loud ringing in your ear and your men dragging your body away as you see a pool of blood all around you, you remember yourself screaming for Reggie’s name, looking for him. You remember ripping your hands out from your men’s arms trying to look for your precious Reggie, only to be greeted by nothing but darkness and the sounds of shooting and men screaming in pain..

 Shaking the thought from your mind you quickly stand up to check on the rest of the boys. Walking over to the entrance of the house you were temporarily staying in for the night you came across the boys scattered around the house sleeping. You smile to yourself, looking at how peaceful they all look. You wonder if you should wake them up to head on out and continue east but you decide to let them have another hour at most. They were always working so hard the past few days you been with them, they deserve more sleep.

 “Ahh when did I become so soft hearted” you ask yourself as you sigh and walk back outside to keep watch on the balcony.

 A few minutes have passed when you hear footsteps walking through the house, you swiftly crouch down and stay in position, repeating your basics to yourself you watch for any attackers in eye sight before moving forward. Breathing softly you continue forward, taking out your gun.

Seeing a shadow slowly becoming bigger in the distance, you point your gun towards the possible threat in your hideout.

Showing himself from the shadows you sigh in relief and put your gun down on the floor, rubbing your eyes in irritation.

“Y/N you're still awake? Why haven't you slept yet?” Jungkook ask with a husky tired voice.

“I don't sleep anymore.” you say with a yawn, “why are you awake?” you ask Jungkook as he pulls you into his arms giving you a kiss on your head. “ I had a nightmare..” he whispers. You frown to yourself rubbing his back, “what was it this time?” with a sigh he responds, “the usual, you getting attacked and I can't do anything to stop it.. This time though, you actually got bit. And my body just couldn't move to help you.. God even before I found you again I have this dream every night..” Rubbing your face against his chest you kiss it softly. “That will never happen Jungkook. Im stronger than that you know that” with a small chuckle you hear a soft, “even so I always wanted to protect you” looking up at Jungkook you give him a soft smile.

 “Hey you guys ready to go?” You hear Jimin’s voice behind you both. You turn around to see Jimin getting dressed. “Yes sir” Jungkook respond, giving you one last hug before he leaves to get ready.

“You know he really worries about you all the time” Jimin says, as he grabs his white shirt to slide over his torso. “I don't know why. I can take care of myself”

“You were his future wife, obviously he's going to get protective with you”

You look out the broken window seeing leaves blow in the night sky.

“Jimin…” you whisper, “ what if we don't make it to the utopia”

Looking out of the window next to you he doesn't respond.

“I mean.. How far can this utopia be?” you say to yourself making Jimin sigh, “who even knows if there's one out there to be honest. When was the last time we found a living creature”

“Jungkook found me..” you say looking over at Jimin.

With a shrug saying that's true, he pats your back, walking to the other members.

Something catching your eye you look out into the darkness.

“Fuck..” you curse to yourself, quickly running to the group.

“Everyone needs to wake up” you say, shaking Namjoon and Yoongi awake.

“What's wrong?” Jungkook says as he moves closer to you. “There's something moving outside”

Namjoon and the rest gather up the supplies as Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung gets the car ready in the garage.

“Y/N” Hoseok says, ‘Yeah?” you respond, watching over the movement outside making sure its not getting closer. “Did you ever gather food like I asked you to do last night? I can't find it?” cursing to yourself you turn to Hoseok, “I’m sorry I been up all night keeping watch, I completely forgot”

“Seriously? What are we supposed to do now? We have no food or water” he says in agitation, “god you are so useless”

“Hey, leave her the fuck alone” Jungkook says, coming in from the garage. “Who are you to say she's useless? She's up every night watching over all our asses to make sure nothing kills us, god only knows the last time she slept” he angrily says, “That's her fault. She had the opportunity to sleep. She had a duty to keep this group alive as well as everyone else and she didn’t do it”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jungkook says walking over to Hoseok, “Hey! Stop it. Both of you. We need to go” Seokjin says “stop acting like a bunch of children. You guys are grown men. Hoseok, you don't give orders. Only Jimin. Jungkook you need to get your anger in control. And Y/N thank you for watching out for us but when we choose our locations we are safe. I promise. Jimin and Namjoon know what they're looking for. You just need to get what you need to get done and start sleeping, okay?” he says grabbing the car keys, “now let's get on the fucking road”

Jungkook glares at Hoseok as he grabs your hand walking out to the garage.

“Jungkook I can fight my own battles why did you do that?” you throw your hand from his, “I didn’t like hearing him talk to you like that and-”

“I don't care whether you like it or not. I should've done my duty and I didn't. I deserved the punishment”

“I said I want to protect you. That didn’t mean just physically. I want to protect you from everything that can give you any harm. Whether that's physical pain or not”

Looking up at him you sigh, “worry about yourself for a change” you walk past him and into the car, leaving him behind.

  “You getting in?” Namjoon asked getting Jungkook attention. He slowly jumps in, into the back seat away from everyone else.

 You felt bad saying that to him but you hated getting special treatment too. You can take care of yourself, you didn't need anyone else there holding your hand. Your mission is to find this utopia and finally get out of this hell hole, and maybe, just maybe, you'll have time for someone to protect you then. But right now, you can't, no, you don't want a relationship right now..

  Hours and hours worth of driving have passed by as you watch Jungkook in the rear mirror. You felt your heart lurking to the young boy. All you wanted was to stop the car and comfort him but you just couldnt.. Because what if something happens? What if you get too attached and you die, or worse, he does. You can't love someone right now. Even if you truly did love them already.

 “Watch out!!” you here Namjoon scream throwing you back into reality

Seeing atleast a dozen infected all around the truck you quickly speed up running two over to get passed them as you speed down the old dirt road. Behind you was the rest of the zombies and even more coming from the side of the roads start to chase the truck. “God damn these fuckers are fast”

“Faster!” Hoseok screams. “I’m already going 80, if I go any faster the tires will pop! Then well be screwed”

Jungkook grabs out his gun as he sticks half his body out the window. Pointing his gun at the zombies he knocks down one.

“There's at least 20 zombies on our trail, does anyone have a grenade?” Jungkook ask

“We used our last one a few days ago” Taehyung explains.

“Here's what we need to do, they know were in the truck so let's slow down enough to get them onto the truck, then we speed up as much as we can and then when I say go we jump out of the truck and have them slam into those boulders over there deal?” says Jimin

“But we need this to travel! We can’t travel on foot?” you scream to Jimin

“Any better ideas?” Yoongi ask

You look over at Jungkook already seeing him look at you.

Sighing in defeat you start slowing down.

“Are they all on?” Jimin ask

“Majority of them yeah”

“Should we wait alittle longer?” Tae ask

“No time! Start going faster!”

“1..2..3.. GO”

Everyone but you jumps out of the truck.

“Y/N Jump out!!” everyone screams.

All they could see was the truck crashing and going up in flames as the zombies became engulfed  in fire. The screeching of zombies and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

Jungkook launches himself towards the burning truck only to be held down by Taehyung and Yoongi.

“Y/N!!!” he screams over and over again

“Y/N!!!”  crying, he screams even more, as he frees himself from the two boys holding him down.

He slowly runs to the truck only to fall to his knees, crying and screaming your name.

 Hours have passed since the explosion. Jungkook still sat there in the same spot. His knees up to his chest with his head covered with a hoodie, he sits there. Waiting for you to suddenly appear.

 “Jungkook, let's go find someplace to stay for tonight” Seokjin says only to be ignored by the grieving boy.

After a few minutes Jungkook stands up, walking towards the burned down truck.

 “Jungkook…” Hoseok says, Yoongi putting his hand on his shoulder in a way to tell him to leave him alone.

 Stepping over the dead bodies surrounding the truck he tears off parts of the truck to get inside it.

Looking for you he finds nothing.

“Y/N?” he questions where you would be.

Jimin walks over to Jungkook to pull him out only to hear, “She's not here”

 “She's not here?” he repeats, “how can she not be here?”

Jungkook walks away leaving Jimin alone to search.

 “She's still alive..” Jungkook says as he looks up to the night sky, “where are you..”

[maximustherad]

Skype Liveblog of Guardians of the Galaxy S01E12 “Crystal Blue Persuasion”

@thecorteztwins

[1:06:12 AM] Cool Dadneato: I found me an episode of the Guardians of the Galaxy show with Inhumans in it and if it's good I'm gonna liveblog

[1:06:21 AM] Cool Dadneato: or even if not

[1:06:25 AM] Hexiva: -chinhands-

[1:06:26 AM] Cool Dadneato: LIVEBLOG

[1:08:11 AM] Cool Dadneato: so Peter Quill is trying to teach his friends baseball, which sounds like an inherently awful idea

[1:08:58 AM] Cool Dadneato: they are trying but I don't think they even get the concept, much less the rules

[1:10:38 AM] Hexiva: I'm not sure I get the concept or rules

[1:11:48 AM] Cool Dadneato: ... I was going to side with the rest of the team here, BUT NOW I SIDE WITH PETER, BASEBALL IS VITAL KNOWLEDGE TO SHARE

[1:11:59 AM] Cool Dadneato: Lockjaw just appeared on board

[1:12:23 AM] Cool Dadneato: Rocket greets dogs by insulting them, I guess

[1:12:30 AM] Cool Dadneato: get off this ship

[1:13:01 AM] Cool Dadneato: why does Lockjaw have crystals stabbed in him

[1:13:52 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter, Gamora, and Lockjaw just teleported

[1:14:17 AM] Cool Dadneato: Rocket is not even perturbed

[1:15:04 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter is chasing Lockjaw through Attilan

[1:15:28 AM] Cool Dadneato: Lockjaw stole his baseball and Gamora is yelling to forget it

[1:16:09 AM] Cool Dadneato: forget you, Gamora, I've rped a lost in space Earth dude, this shit is important

[1:17:56 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter is yelling now about how he doesn't even care about the ball, now this is about how he feels like nobody ever listens to him

jeez, Peter, this is only a few minutes in

[1:20:21 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter: "So who's in distress?! There's nobody here but a giant, slobbering BASEBALL THIEF!!" -dramatic point-

[1:20:29 AM] Cool Dadneato: I want a gif of this

[1:21:16 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter is being so fucking sarcastic to this dog now omfg

[1:21:29 AM] Cool Dadneato: who teaches these people dog manners

[1:22:48 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter: "You see, on Earth it's totally hilarious."

Gamora: "I see why you don't go back."

[1:25:35 AM] Cool Dadneato: omfg, Lockjaw led Peter to some cryogen chambers and he opened one and it's Medusa and Peter said "aw it's like a princess" and made like he was going to kiss her and Medusa woke up to kick his ass

[1:26:13 AM] Cool Dadneato: kill him, Medusa

[1:26:30 AM] Cool Dadneato: feed his baseball to Lockjaw

[1:26:51 AM] Hexiva: MURDER HIM

[1:27:19 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa: "My husband would have words with you!"

[1:27:37 AM] Cool Dadneato: multiple ones? it's on then

[1:28:18 AM] Cool Dadneato: does she wait to say things like that

[1:31:43 AM] Cool Dadneato: meanwhile, I guess Groot, Drax, and Rocket finally decided to go look for Peter and Gamora

they seem very unrushed for people possibly doing rescuing

[1:32:02 AM] Hexiva: they're like "whatever he got himself into, he probably deserved it"

[1:32:29 AM] Cool Dadneato: yeah, they are all clearly thinking that

[1:33:54 AM] Cool Dadneato: they just tried to muss with crystal statues in the city, the crystals attacked

[1:35:33 AM | Edited 1:35:44 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa asked Peter if he's Kree and that's a surprisingly valid question

[1:35:57 AM] Hexiva: Kree rather than half-Celestial?

[1:37:31 AM] Cool Dadneato: Kree given the Inhuman context and that some Kree are white

in the 616 Peter is half Spartoi

[1:37:45 AM] Hexiva: What's a Spartoi

[1:37:56 AM] Cool Dadneato: and his dad once flirted with Medusa

[1:39:22 AM] Cool Dadneato: Spartoi look pretty much human but they are related to the Shi'ar somehow

[1:40:01 AM] Cool Dadneato: they come from Shi'ar space and share some common ancestor

[1:40:16 AM] Hexiva: what's their deal

[1:41:33 AM] Cool Dadneato: they have an Empire that's allied with the Shi'ar

[1:41:47 AM] Cool Dadneato: that's basically their thing

[1:41:49 AM] Hexiva: oh good, more douchebag empires

[1:42:11 AM] Hexiva: Aren't the Kree . . . like . . . blue . . .?

[1:42:12 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter's dad is J'Son, their emperor

[1:42:50 AM] Cool Dadneato: Kree are usually blue but they have a large white population

[1:43:08 AM] Cool Dadneato: like Mar-Vell and Noh-Varr

[1:43:14 AM] Hexiva: oh

[1:43:16 AM] Hexiva: that's weird

[1:43:20 AM] Cool Dadneato: yeah

[1:43:25 AM] Cool Dadneato: weird af

[1:43:29 AM] Cool Dadneato: why

[1:47:58 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus: "Cease this senseless attack, Alpha Primitives! Oh! This has all been a TERRIBLE misunderstanding! Oh, I'm SO very sorry about all this... I was expecting someone else."

omfg on a scale of 1 to A Steaming Pile of Filthy Dramatic Improv he's scoring a perfect Irving Braxiatel

[1:49:03 AM] Hexiva: DOES ANYONE BELIEVE YOU, MAXIMUS

[1:49:30 AM] Cool Dadneato: "I am Maximus... the Magnificent, Supreme Leader of the Inhumans."

[1:49:52 AM] Cool Dadneato: who let him out of the house

[1:51:56 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa and Maximus are giving their respective back stories for the Inhumans to their respective audiences and it's hilarious

[1:53:08 AM] Cool Dadneato: and yet I think the best part of all is that they are both delivering the same biased story

[1:53:30 AM] Hexiva: with the same biases?

[1:53:37 AM] Cool Dadneato: yes

[1:54:02 AM] Cool Dadneato: Inhumans are superior, peaceful, and did no wrong

[1:56:21 AM] Cool Dadneato: oh jfc, Medusa just informed Peter that they were escaping a plague on Earth, and she pulled back a sleeve to show crystals growing out of her skin, apparently Inhumans are suffering from some slow Terrigen death thing

[1:57:11 AM] Cool Dadneato: that explains all the crystals sticking out of Lockjaw

[1:59:13 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus is describing the plague to the others very dramatically, apparently it completely changed the slave caste, -dramatic fists- THEIR STRENGTH INCREASED A HUNDREDFOLD

[2:00:59 AM] Cool Dadneato: "Unfortunately, for the rest of us-- " -DRAMATIC PAUSE IN FRONT OF FROZEN BLACK BOLT- "It will prove quite fatal!"

[2:02:13 AM] Cool Dadneato: question, Mad Max, why is your esteemed dramafullness totally fine, you look the least sick of anybody and I call bullshit

[2:03:28 AM] Cool Dadneato: "Fortunately, I have found a cure! Soon, I'll have enough to save the rest of my family!"

sounds fake but okay

[2:04:25 AM] Cool Dadneato: "Even Black Bolt, my poor, mute brother."

aw, even him, in this fake story

[2:06:01 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa: "Since it was the Kree who created the Inhumans, we hoped they'd find a cure."

really? and how's that working out for you?

[2:07:26 AM] Cool Dadneato: for the record, the Inhumans are a race of slave WMDs to the Kree

[2:07:56 AM] Cool Dadneato: that doesn't sound like a place to start negotiations on

[2:10:12 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa: -GASPS- "My husband, the king, is missing!"

-checks the chamber next to his- "And so is his rat of a brother, Maximus!"

[2:10:25 AM] Cool Dadneato: :.) this fam

[2:20:39 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa: "What have you done with my husband, the king?!"

Rocket: "I thought you was the king."

Maximus: -ULTRA DRAMATIC SPIN- "By right, I should be! I isolated the Terrigen plague! I found the cure! While this one said nothing! DID NOTHING! UNTIL HE HIMSELF SUCCUMBED TO THE THREAT! Black Bolt is unworthy of the crown! Maximus is the true savior of the Inhumans!"

Rocket: "Okaaaaay... Well good luck with that."

[2:21:09 AM] Hexiva: that third person

[2:21:55 AM] Cool Dadneato: no time for theatre

[2:22:36 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa and Maximus are going to continue this without Rocket

[2:22:52 AM] Cool Dadneato: the show must go on

[2:25:12 AM] Cool Dadneato: "BEHOLD!"

Maximus, what am I beholding, will you please stop this bullshit if we put you on the Genetics Council with a cute title

[2:26:06 AM] Hexiva: why would you let that guy on the eugenics panel

[2:27:32 AM] Cool Dadneato: what damage can he possibly do there besides suggest terrible marriages

[2:27:43 AM] Cool Dadneato: "COMPLETE AND TOTAL MIND CONTROL!!!" -WILD LAUGHTER-

[2:28:09 AM] Cool Dadneato: okay fine, lock this fool up again

[2:31:08 AM] Cool Dadneato: "OBEY ME, BROTHER! DESTROY THEM! DESTROY THEM ALL!"

ho, they were such a decent audience

smack him in the mouth, Drax

[2:31:31 AM] Hexiva: maximus why

[2:32:16 AM] Cool Dadneato: Drax got his ass beat by mind-controlled Blackagar

[2:32:51 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus is looking through the hole in the wall

[2:33:05 AM] Cool Dadneato: AND LAUGHING AGAIN

[2:35:01 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus: "Finally! One of you will listen to what I say!"

I honestly wouldn't be shocked if that's what this is about

bitch needs attention

[2:36:13 AM] Cool Dadneato: Groot just got asskicked

[2:37:46 AM] Cool Dadneato: Gamora just got asskicked

[2:39:02 AM] Cool Dadneato: Rocket just got shrugged off because he's using an energy weapon and that's non-effective against Black Bolt

[2:39:54 AM] Cool Dadneato: my god Maximus is doing a little dance in the background

[2:40:06 AM] Cool Dadneato: while laughing

[2:42:02 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter decided to use Lockjaw to teleport behind Maximus and MAXIMUS BITCHSLAPPED HIM

[2:42:09 AM] Cool Dadneato: EMBARRASSING

[2:42:27 AM] Cool Dadneato: DEFEATED BY MAXIMUS

[2:42:35 AM] Hexiva: GOOD

[2:45:43 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter: "Don't... Make me open this box! Inside it is a weapon that can destroy the whole city!"

Maximus: "Oh?! This I must see. Open it!"

called

[2:48:07 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter: "No, you don't understand! We'll all be vaporised! Instantly!"

Maximus: "How exciting! Open it! Now!"

called again

[2:48:37 AM] Cool Dadneato: this isn't working Peter

[2:52:21 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter gave up and opened his box and there was a cosmic cube inside and the flash of light still managed to blind Maximus and make him lose control of Blackagar

[2:52:45 AM] Cool Dadneato: embarrassing, Maximus

[2:53:46 AM] Cool Dadneato: Blackagar immediately ran to Medusa and Maximus ran the fuck out

[2:56:24 AM] Cool Dadneato: they also found out the cube accelerated the crystal plague the Inhumans are infected with

[2:58:17 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter: "That's AWESOME!!"

Drax: "I do not think that word means what you think it means."

[3:00:40 AM] Cool Dadneato: RONAN THE ACCUSER JUST SHOWED UP

[3:01:22 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus: "Ah, see, I told you I was expecting someone else."

[3:02:22 AM] Cool Dadneato: yeah how does selling out your species feel you evil fuck

[3:06:52 AM] Cool Dadneato: Medusa: "Maximus! What. Have. You. DONE?!"

Maximus: -mimicking her tone- "Just. What. You. Wanted! I have formed an alliance with the Kreeee!"

[3:13:01 AM] Cool Dadneato: "I give them an invincible crystal army, and in return Attilan becomes part of the Kree Empire, with myself as Supreme Leader, of course."

you negotiated Attilan's unconditional surrender? you truly are our hero

[3:19:39 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter: "He can't do that. Ronan's an outlaw even among his own people."

Rocket: "You cut a deal with the one guy in the galaxy who's crazier than you!"

-Maximus' facial expression is beautiful-

[3:23:31 AM] Cool Dadneato: Ronan: "Get out of my sight, you filth."

Maximus: -pathetically- "But... I don't understand... !"

[3:24:40 AM] Cool Dadneato: jfc, Ronan just curbstomped Maximus

[3:26:11 AM] Cool Dadneato: who was already sitting on the ground looking pathetic

[3:29:18 AM] Cool Dadneato: Ronan plans to destroy the city, he is absolutely not impressed with the tribute army

[3:31:34 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus says this is fine, he rather die than bow to his brother ever again

[3:32:52 AM] Cool Dadneato: he threw a tantrum, destroyed the cure, and ran off

[3:34:31 AM] Cool Dadneato: does Maximus ever get bored of hearing himself

[3:34:47 AM] Hexiva: NO

[3:35:39 AM] Cool Dadneato: that is rhetorical

[3:38:00 AM] Cool Dadneato: he loves hearing himself

[3:39:02 AM] Cool Dadneato: Maximus: "Bravo! A front row seat for the apocalypse!" -LAUGHS MANIACALLY-

[3:45:58 AM] Cool Dadneato: omfg, this episode rapidly escalated to its dramatic ending

[3:54:52 AM] Cool Dadneato: Peter Quill uses the cosmic cube to cure the plague, Black Bolt destroys the Kree warship (leaving Ronan to shout that he will have his REVENGE!!! from within the shielded pieces of the Kree bridge)

cut to Maximus chuckling and talking to himself from where he's chained in a dark, windowless dungeon

Maximus: "Hahaha, oh the irony. Defeated by the great Star-Lord, who can't find what sees with a map, which he holds with both hands; the further he goes, the farther away he gets... !"

-starts laughing until the Inhumans click a mental dampening device in place and his expression goes blank in surprise and he's cut off abruptly-

[3:55:59 AM] Cool Dadneato: and then everyone happily goes home, except Peter wishes he knew what that weirdness was all about

[theliteraturenerd]

25 MOTIVATIONAL THOUGHTS FOR WRITERS by Chuck Wendig

1. YOU ARE THE GOD OF THIS PLACE

The blank page is your world. You choose what goes into it. Anything at all. Upend the frothy cup that is your heart and see what spills out. Murder plots. Train crashes. Pterodactyl love interests. Vampire threesomes. Housewife bondage. Demon spies! Cake heists! Suburban ennui! You can destroy people. You can build things. You can create love, foster hate, foment rage, invoke sorrow. Anything you want in any order you care to present it. This is your story. This is your jam.

2. INFINITE POWER, ZERO RESPONSIBILITY

Not only are you god of this place, but you have none of the responsibility divine beings are supposed to possess. You have literally no responsibility to anyone but yourself — you’re like a chimp with a handgun. Run amok! Shoot things! Who cares? There exists this non-canonical infancy gospel where Jesus is actually a little kid and he’s like, running around with crazy Jesus wizard powers. He’s killing them and resurrecting them and he’s turning water into Kool-Aid and loaves into Goldfish crackers — he’s just going apeshit with his Godborn sorcery. BE LIKE CRAZY JESUS BABY. Run around zapping shit with your God lightning! You owe nobody anything in this space. It’s adult swim. It’s booze cruise.

3. THE RAREST BIRD OF THEM ALL

The easiest way to separate yourself from the unformed blobby mass of “aspiring” writers is to a) actually write and b) actually finish. That’s how easy it is to clamber up the ladder to the second echelon. Write. And finish what you write. That’s how you break away from the pack and leave the rest of the sickly herd for the hungry wolves of shame and self-doubt. And for all I know, actual wolves.

4. YOU’RE NOT CLEANING UP SOME SIXTH GRADER’S VOMIT

You have worse ways to spend a day than to spend it writing. Here’s a short list: artificially inseminating tigers, getting shot at by an opposing army, getting eaten by a grue, mopping the floors of a strip club, digging ditches and then pooping in them, cleaning up the vomit of nervous elementary school children, being forced to dance by strange dance-obsessed captors, working in a Shanghai sweatshop making consumer electronics for greedy Americans, and being punched to death by a coked-up Jean-Claude Van Damme. Point is: writing is a pretty great way to spend a morning, afternoon, or night.

5. ABUSE THE FREEDOM TO SUCK

Writing is not about perfection — that’s editing you’re thinking of. Editing is about arrangement, elegance, cutting down instead of building up. Editing is Jenga. Writing is about putting all the pieces out there. It’s construction in the strangest, sloppiest form. It’s inelegant. And imperfect. And insane. It’s supposed to be this way. Writing is a first-time bike-ride. You’re meant to wobble and accidentally drive into some rose bushes. Allow yourself the freedom — nay, the pleasure — to suck. This is playtime. (Or, as I call it: “Whiskey and Hookers” time.) Playtime is supposed to be messy.

6. AND EMBRACE THE AUTHORITY TO BE FUCKING AWESOME

It’s your rodeo, hoss. You have the authority to write with confidence, to puff your chest out, to slap your ink-smeared genitals on the table as you utter your barbaric yawp. Aim big. Go bold. Don’t hide from your own most kick-ass desires. Don’t unfurl the story with hands trembling from the fear of what others will think. You have the power to do different. Yours is the authority to choose the road with your name on it. Write the story the tangle of desires and neuroses that comprise you so desire: A love affair between a man and a parking meter! A civil war between robots and other robots! A SPACE OPERA STARRING ROOT VEGETABLES. Fortune favors the bold. And being fucking awesome favors being fucking awesome.

7. YOU CAN CLEAN UP THE MESS LATER

Writers are afforded the glorious possibility of endless do-overs and take-backs. Every draft a new chance to go back and clean up messes and untangle the tangled wires that hide beneath the narrative. Can you imagine that privilege in real life? “Hey, when you go outside today, anything you do can be undone and the whole day can be recreated.” Holy crap, the day you’d have! Bath salts and dolphin sex, car crashes and muddy graves. I’d have an orgy at a candy factory. (So sticky!) I’d kill someone just because I could. I’D EAT DEEP-FRIED LIPO FAT AT A COUNTRY FAIR SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF AMERICA. If I didn’t like it, I’d go back and wipe the slate clean, start over again. That’s your story. Your story is a madcap day whose minutes and hours subject to your whims of rewriting — or unwriting.

8. A ROOM FULL OF STARVING STORY ADDICTS

For all the dire predictions about writing and publishing, I’m going to make a promise to you: the audience is waiting. They’re a subway car full of twitchy story tweakers going around and around, looking for any stop that will give them good story. They’re there for you. They’re waiting for your tale told. Writers often feel like they’re just sobbing into the void, but the audience will hear your plaintive cries, young storyteller. You may feel like a story flunky, but be sure that the audience is full of story junkies. Hey, snap, that rhymed and I didn’t even mean it to. FUCK YEAH WORDS.

9. I’M TALKING ABOUT MOTHERFUCKING ICE CREAM, SON

You are allowed to live a reward-driven life. You want me to motivate you? Go motivate yourself. (That is not code for “go fuck yourself,” unless I don’t like you, then it totally is.) Set a various goals and when you hit them, do something nice for yourself. I mean, the goal shouldn’t be, “Every time I write a sentence, I get an ice cream cone,” because that sir is a high-speed rail straight to the heart of Diabetesburg. But hit your mark of 2000 words a day? Write a chapter? Finish the book? Accept how kick-ass that is and reward yourself. It’s okay. You have my permission. (As long as you don’t bogart that ice cream. Dick.)

10. NOBODY ELSE WRITES LIKE YOU

When all your force fields and filters are down, when you’ve stripped yourself of your presuppositions and your fears and needs and your pants, you discover that nobody in the world writes like you. Nobody has your ideas. Nobody has your narrative memetic code. You are not a unique and beautiful snowflake, no. But your writing — your writing is your fingerprint. Your voice is yours and yours alone.

11. WE’RE TOTALLY BUILT FOR THIS

Someone will look down on you at some point (or, if you’re me, at frequent points throughout your day) for being what you want to be. Writer. Author. Artist. Storyteller. Here’s why that’s a dumpster full of shitballs: we are built for this. One of the things that lashes us all together with rope and chain and psychic plasm is our desire — nay, our sacred fucking need — to tell stories. We’ve been doing it since we drew Neanderthals chasing unicorns on cave walls. We tell stories about the weather, about work, about family and friends, about pets and sex and about that time that friend we have at work had sex with his pet python while a hurricane raged outside. This is what we do. You’re just codifying it. Making it real.

12. ONE WORD AFTER THE OTHER

The technical side of writing — by which I mean, the physical act itself — is one of the easiest things you can do. It’s literally one word placed after the other with some appropriate punctuation thrown in between breaths and ending thoughts. Yes, it gets more complex once you start thinking about narrative, character, meaning, text versus subtext — but for now, fuck all that. Just breathe. Let the tension go out of you (not so much you pee yourself). This is like LEGO. One block upon the other. One word after the next.

13. JUST WRITE 100 MORE WORDS

A frequent phrase said when I was a child or a teenager: just ten more minutes. Meaning, it was time to go to sleep (as a child) or time to get up for school (as a teenager) and all I wanted to do was avoid sleep (child) or sleep longer (teenager). As a writer, play the same game with yourself: you want to give up, close the notebook, save the story? Just 100 more words. That’s all. Push yourself just a little. A hundred words ain’t much (it’s about the size of this text block). And you’d be amazed at how 100 words just isn’t enough.

14. THIS IS HOW YOU GET BETTER

Writing is a muscle: the more you use it the stronger it gets. Writing is like a dog: the more you train it, the smarter it becomes. Writing is like one of your orifices: every time you allow a bigger object to be inserted within (pinky, buttplug, fist, cucumber, wiffle ball bat, railroad tie) you train it to gape wider the next time. …okay, maybe not so much the last one. Still: writing begets writing. You may not be great — or even good — now. But effort yields fruit. Fruit you may later jam up your ass for pleasure. Wait, what?

15. THE MORE YOU DO IT, THE EASIER IT GETS

It’s not just about getting better. It’s about it becoming easier. More natural. More intuitive. The act of writing cultivates both calluses (a metaphorical hardening the fuck up, Care Bear) and instinct (where your decisions as a word-captain and story-slinger are less the product of rigorous thought and more the result of you just having a gut feeling and going with it). Hard at first. Easier over time.

16. YOU ARE NOT THE OMEGA MAN

You are not alone. You are not Lonely Writer Person on Planet Nobody. We all get what you’re going through. We know your triumphs and terrors. The future of writing will be us uploading ourselves to The Cloud (probably on Amazon’s servers), our spirit animals glomming together to howl a single song, but for now, we’re all located at our individualized story pods, cranking out the words by ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we’re alone. We have community. We have shared understanding. Reiterate: You are not alone.

17. YOUR LOVE FOR WRITING IS ENDURING AND IMPERFECT

Some days will be great and other days will be hard. Some days you will love the thing that you’re doing so intimately and so completely that you feel like you achieved some kind of narrative orgasmic apotheosis, whereas other days you will feel nothing but septic hate gurgling in your empty belly and every word slung will feel like a brick flung into your own nose. Your love for this thing you do needn’t be there every day. Every day won’t feel like winning the championship. But the love endures, imperfect as it is.

18. IT’S OKAY THAT SOME DAYS ARE REALLY FUCKING HARD

Some days are difficult. The words feel like dead fish flopping out onto a dirty floor. Hell, maybe they don’t fall out at all but feel like they must be yanked one by one, the act both painful and slow, as if you’re extracting teeth. Some days are shitty. Is what it is. All writers go through it. You want to do this thing then don’t look at the shitty days as a problem: see them as a challenge that prove your pudding.

19. WRITER’S BLOCK IS NOT A REAL THING

You can be blocked. Everybody gets blocked. But it’s not special. It’s not unique to writers. It doesn’t deserve its name or the credit it receives. More importantly, it isn’t a physical thing — it isn’t a gorilla with a croquet mallet who smashes your hand every time you reach for the keyboard. You can get past it. You think past it. You write past it. You kick it in the teeth and step over its twitching body.

20. HOW TO IMAGINE THE HATERS

If there is one thing we have learned upon this old Internet of ours, it is: haters gonna hate. You will ever have disbelievers among your ranks, those who pop up like scowling gophers, boring holes through your well-being, your hopes, your dreams. It is very important not to prove the haters right. It is very important to know where to place the haters in rank of importance, which is to say, below telemarketers, below any television show on TLC, below crotch fungus and garbage fires and anal cankers. Imagine the haters herded into a pen. Eaten by the tigers of your own awesomeness. Then digested. Shat out. And burned with flamethrowers. The only power you should afford the haters is the power to eat curb.

21. MULTIPLE SHOTS AT GOAL

Just as you get multiple chances to fix a single story, you get multiple stories to fill your life — as many as you care to cram into your days, months, years. Our lives are a series of stories untold, and it’s up to you to tell them. This one might not be successful. But the next one might.

22. THE LEPRECHAUN’S GIFT

At the end of this rainbow are whatever rewards you want. Money? It’s there. Some say writers don’t earn out, that you can’t make a living doing this thing that we do. That’s a quiver of broken arrows: don’t sling it over your shoulder. I do it. I know a lot of writers who do it. So can you. But it’s not just money at the end: it’s self-fulfillment. It’s love. It’s confidence. It’s the things you’ve learned about yourself, about the craft of writing, about the art of storytelling. You never know what you’ll find until you climb that motherfucking rainbow. (One time I found a cardboard box of vintage porn and tasty grilled cheese sandwiches.) Writing is a journey. Each story just one leg of the trip. So start walking.

23. YOU ARE YOUR ONLY ENEMY

You have no enemy but yourself. You’re the only one that brings a story into existence, or, as it may turn out, fails to engineer that existence. Your enemy is not your spouse, your kids, your boss, your neighbor, your dog, your mother, your buddy. It is not time, work, addiction, distraction. It is not video games or Twitter, Facebook or television. Your enemy is fear. And indolence. And lack of discipline. And: uncertainty. And: lack of self-esteem. And all those things live inside your heart and your head. That’s hard to hear at first, but the trick is, that means you have the power to sweep all that shit off the table until it clatters and shatters against the floor. You’re the only one standing in your own way so, knock down your own worst inclinations and get to it. Disclaimer: actually, unicorns are frequently the writer’s enemy and if you got a unicorn problem best thing I can recommend is to call a priest. You can’t kill those things with weedkiller. And they deflect bullets with their horns. That’s no lie. Unicorns are pesky assholes.

24. THIS MATTERS

Story matters. Writing is important. Stories make the world go around. Many things begin as words on a page. It matters to the world. And it matters to you. Don’t let anyone rob you of that. Don’t rob yourself of it, either. Don’t diminish. Don’t dismiss. Embrace. Create. Accelerate.

25. UM, WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?

Uh, hello? You should’ve bailed on me ten list items ago. What the fidgety fuck are you still doing here? Whatever it is you want to write — novel, script, short story, blog post, haiku out of fridge magnets — go forth and do it. Don’t wait for me. Don’t wait for all the answers. Don’t wait for permission, motivation, inspiration. It’s time to saddle up and gallop forth — through the white dust and the red sand, through the darkness of your own fears or inadequacies and into the light of a tale told to completion. Quit lookin’ at me. Quit looking for reasons. Quit dicking around. Close this browser and go tell a story, willya?

by Chuck Wendig