#This show is a core memory bc it was only an hour from where I lived at the time

[flashlight-smallknife]

Foxing - 2.7.19 // Lynchburg, VA

[kennaverse]

MY shifting journey

Have i shifted a bunch of times? No, but i am a very successful shifter when i actually put effort into shifting. I want to make more posts like these to talk abt my shifting journey and updates with methods i use, story times, wtv. Think of this is like a shifting diary, except i share it on the internet for all of you to read.

and just know these will be unorganized because it’s me mindlessly writing my thoughts down, there’s a slim to none chance i will reread before posting 🌚..

Call me crazy for this, i’m completely convinced I shifted when i was a little kid.

I was always like the super imaginative little girl who would like be in her own world and was kinda the weird kid too😭. I would literally act things out with myself and had the most VIVID imagination ever, like it was INSANE, and there were times where i would go to bed and think like “what if i just woke up in (show i like)” and then would proceed to dream about it right after. It wasn’t exactly shifting, but i was close FS.

another thing is like, my favorite thing to do as a little kid was force myself into thinking i was in different realities at different times for no mf reason.. like i would just enter my living room and be like “i just entered a parallel universe” BAHAHA GIRL WHAT😭. but yk.. maybe i did🌚.

I KNOW I shifted this one time to hogwarts when i was like 10. it was a mini shift but i know for a fact that was shifting.

which is crazy to me cuz i was literally under 10 where i was lucid dreaming and shifting without knowing what either of those two were? Like i KNEW what i was doing too.

Then i discovered 2020 shiftok and didn’t shift for 2 years after that😭😭.

When i first discovered shiftok, it was through a screenshot on pinterest on my broken ipad. no kidding that’s a core memory for me.

After i found that out i decided to try it, but i thought i could ONLY shift in the starfish position, cuz yk it was 2020. And my bed was very small so i did it ON THE FLLOOORRR…

No i didn’t shift.

i tried a few times after that and gave up and completely forgot about it for a hot second until 2022.

I rediscovered it bc i remembered smth abt it from that one day on my broke ass ipad and tried to remember what it was for like an hour and when i figured it out i tried to do research on it. i struggled, but eventually i got there. I wanted to shift at that point more as an escape from this reality, and not just a fun thing for my fav shows like how i was younger?

I had a bunch of scripts, but i never tried to shift for a while until i met my first shifting friend ever. we’re not friends anymore but she changed like my whole point of view on shifting and this reality and helped me SO MUCH. ever since then i’ve been able to shift like normal, i just don’t do it a lot because i’m lazy.

And most times i try to shift i fail, but ive been on a shifting break to reprogram my mindset and let me tell youuuu it’s DEFINITELY working out, and i will be shifting tonight.

sooo conclusion, shifting has always been there for me since i was really young, i just wasn’t fully aware of it and i think that’s actually the case w a lot of people. idk. i’m tired

[lesbianwyllravengard]

for the dvd commentary ask meme: I couldn’t pick only 500 words bc I’m the worst but like the ENTIRE second half of Emulation, please and thank you, oh my god I just had to make it about sixty

OMG EMULATION!! Thank you so much for this, I loved writing that fic and I feel like it's underrated dhdjdhs

(for those who haven't read it, it's the first part of my dbh series and it's about Sixty and set right before we see him in Cyberlife tower. Here's the fic.)

Commentary below the cut bc it’s long! [the ask meme in question]

Idk where exactly you start the halfway mark, so I apologise if I cut some off, but I’ll begin right after Sixty scans the second Cyberlife scientist, Theresa Lane. 

First off I wanna say I named the one scientist “Leon” before I knew anything about resident evil so now that I do know all about RE I’m a little embarrassed that his name is Leon, but alas. I shan’t change it. In actuality, Leon Andrews’ name was inspired by the name of a classmate of mine at the time of writing the fic.

I also need to note that this fic is written based off of my headcanon that Sixty was activated as a deviant, due to the rushed programming of Cyberlife out of necessity should Connor breach the tower. So as soon as Sixty is activated, he’s instantly capable of emulating any emotion and making any choice. 

Throughout this whole fic, I did my best to write Sixty and his passive perception as similarly to that of a computer’s AI as I could manage, being a human. I have an IT/comp sw background and I find artificial intelligence and its application into the real world to be incredibly fascinating. I want to study the androids’ brains. I want to listen to Kamski explain everything about the androids for hours. The only reason I wrote this fic is because of these things. Sixty intakes data but it flows through him like a river, always within reach but always moving, changing, growing. If he were human, this would be like forgetting. Memories passing through our brains with no way to hold onto them. However, Sixty doesn’t need to store data, or “remember”, because the data is always there for him to access. Think of it like watching a video of an event you attended, but had forgotten all the details of. Why bother remembering when you have a high definition video of the event that you can view at any moment? However, when Sixty says that he “stores data” about Leon Andrews, it’s him actively deciding to retain the data within his software, similar to a vibrant or “core” memory in humans. Sixty is fascinated by Andrews because he’s the first human Sixty came into contact with; so essentially, Sixty imprinted onto Leon Andrews, somewhat against his will, but when presented with the ability to purge that data from his systems, Sixty chose to keep it. The first conscious choice that Sixty makes.

The humans in this speak in in-quotation italics to represent Sixty’s auditory processors, but that won’t be the case for the other fics I write with him, it’s just a symbolic way of showing how he’s processing the audio data and applying it. Then Sixty’s voice is not in italics because he doesn’t need to process his own audio, he knows what he’s saying internally. Sixty hears the same way humans do: processing and interpreting the vibrations made from things in the environment. He just describes it more technically because he’s a drama queen. Also I just realised I basically had him mansplain hearing to poor Theresa Lane lmao he didn’t mean to he just wants to be better than everyone. 

Lane is the more logical, data-based scientist. Andrews is the more emotional, reaction-based scientist. Both are vital to the creation of androids, but their differences is why Lane somewhat panics when she realises Sixty is deviant, because she knows this could cost them their jobs, but Andrews tries to brush it off because he doesn’t see why they need to tell anyone. Lane however understands the severity of this, but Andrews either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Andrews wants to “waste” time trying to “tame” Sixty, both in his pride, and his stubbornness about their work. 

Sixty doesn’t follow orders because he has no reason nor incentive to. Even on the threat of deactivation, something he doesn’t want, he still doesn’t answer the question being asked until Andrews says “please”. Now, Sixty wants to answer the questions because pleasing Andrews pleases himself. Again, the imprint thing. Sixty understands, and thinks: “this human wants something from me. I want this human to be pleased. I can provide this human with what they want; therefore, I can please this human.” so he answers the question finally. 

Lane teases Andrews for being an android whisperer which isn’t inaccurate in Sixty’s case. She jokes that Andrews “seduced” Sixty because Andrews is a pretty man; and Sixty doesn’t argue with this, neither verbally nor internally, because he just stated that Andrews - either his voice, his face, his demeanour, or all of the above - “stimulates” Sixty’s processors. 

In Andrews and Lane’s friendly banter, Sixty experiences human kindness in his first waking moments, but it’s not directed towards him. Maybe if it had been, his fate in Cyberlife Tower could have been different. But alas... Nevertheless, he decides that he enjoys the friendly banter between Lane and Andrews because they are both pleased by their interactions. Sixty thinks “there’s no reason for Lane to say those things unless she were angry; and yet, she’s not angry... which means she’s saying those things for fun, because she wants to.” and he’s absolutely fascinated by that concept, that words can be said just because. Just because. 

And of course, I gave Andrews a husband, because I make everyone queer. Lane is aroace and loves to tease Andrews. 

Andrews gives Sixty another order, “Report to Cyberlife Tower”, leading into the canon events we see in the game. Sixty establishes that “orders” are useless to him, because the orders do not redirect his data or his systems in any way. He questions “why?” because, I mean, why should he follow orders? The orders did not align with anything he currently wanted to do. If given the choice, he might have chosen to continue staring at Andrews and gathering as much data on the man as he could. However, Sixty doesn’t question on the basis of deviancy because he feels any kind of compassion for deviants. He simply follows a logical line of questioning, being: “Deviants don’t follow orders. I’m a deviant. So why should I follow orders?” And the line, Sixty’s internal thought of “Last chance, RK800″ is a reference to Chapter 29: “Last Chance, Connor”, in which Connor must find the location of Jericho, or be deactivated; similarly, Sixty must report to Cyberlife Tower, or be deactivated. But he still wants to know why.

Sixty understands that he “emulates fear”. This line is what inspired the title. It is meant to show how the difference between androids and deviants is that the former will simply emulate emotions, whereas the latter will react with the emulated emotions they’ve learned, and apply those emotions to stimulants in their environment; a.k.a., “feeling”. Sixty is dipping his toes into deviancy but he will soon plunge.

Sixty’s “No, I- I don’t want to die” is the first time he stutters, the first time his data is too disorganised for his vocal simulation to keep up with. I pictured his face during this to be exactly like Connor’s when he refuses to shoot Chloe, and Kamski claims that Connor is a deviant, to which Connor fearfully replies “I’m... I’m not a deviant.” Lane is in awe of the complexity of Sixty, and maybe if she was working for Kamski himself instead of corporate Cyberlife she’d have the same attitudes he does towards deviants, that same fascination - but now she’s also frustrated that Sixty is already a deviant against their best efforts. 

Also, Andrews is definitely bluffing. He doesn’t give a shit about the paperwork, and Lane would probably have done it all anyways because she wants it to be perfect and Andrews is an asshole. No, Andrews has started to care, just a bit, and he doesn’t want to kill Sixty over something as simple as him not following orders. Lane however doesn’t see it as “killing”, just shutting off a faulty machine. 

Sixty ‘applies “orders” to his database’, meaning he saves the term as a new incentive, at least when it comes from Andrews. If Andrews says something is an “order”, that triggers Sixty’s “if;then” coding. He basically just readjusted his wants so that he’d want to follow said order, despite having no tangible incentive to do so.

Andrews warns against joining Connor, because if he warn against it he’ll be fired, but honestly I don’t think he cares one way or another if the androids win or if Sixty joins them. If Sixty joins the deviants, that’s one less android for them to take care of, right? But Andrews does genuinely believe the androids will lose, though in my series, they win, so he’s just wrong. Sixty doesn’t want to die, so he sets a new objective to not join Connor, no matter what, lest he face deactivation. 

In the last paragraph, something happens so subtly - on purpose - that it might go unnoticed at first for most, but it does’t go unnoticed for Sixty. Going off of the fact that this fic is from Sixty’s perspective, at the beginning of the last paragraph, Sixty, for the first time, refers to himself as “he” rather than “it”. He catches that, and rather than let the data pass him by, he fixates on it, becomes obsessed with it, the single line of data: “He”. Sixty had no reason - no discernible reason - to switch from calling himself “it” to “he”, and it fascinates him, but he doesn’t mind it, and sees no reason not to refer to himself as “he”, so he doesn’t banish the idea. I added this bit because the first thing that made me think Sixty was actually deviant - and what inspired this whole fic in the first place, which I discussed in this post - was that Bryan Dechart says Connor refers to all androids as “it” pre-deviancy, but once he gets closer to deviating and feeling emotions, he starts using the androids’ pronouns of “he” or “she”; and then at Cyberlife Tower if Hank is present and Sixty kills Connor, Sixty turns to Hank and says “He really liked you, Lieutenant. That’s what killed him.”, signifying - to me - that Sixty was capable of feeling in that moment, because why wouldn’t he have just called Connor “it”? 

Sixty also takes his first breath in the last paragraph, which was symbolic of him taking his first step into the unknown ahead of him, and his first donning of the “obedient machine” facade he displays when facing off with Connor. 

Sorry that was a LOT, but if you read it all, thank you!! And thank you again for requesting this fic, I put so much time and thought into it and it was so fun to comment on it from my author perspective. And of course you are more than welcome to interpret anything from the fic differently; these were simply my thoughts when writing it, but I understand as a writer that once a piece of work is released it no longer belongs to me, and I would love to hear your thoughts on it <333

[akumaalert]

not a request just sharing bc i couldn't stop thinking of just "what if lucky called heis good boy" like how he calls her good girl sometimes but like.. i'm pretty sure he would break

This was supposed to be a mini-fic....but...uh....it'll likely be the first chapter of "Divergence" instead LMAO But hope you enjoy!

Good Boy

Karl Heisenberg x Reader, Explicit

CW: Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Happy Ending, Virgin!Karl Heisenberg

An AU happening during chapter 19 of "Heavy Metal Lover" but can be read without reading the main story.

"Unfh..."

That had been the first noise from Lucky besides the scratch of a pencil against paper that he had heard in about an hour.

Stuck in his office with her as he searched for a misplaced - not lost, just misplaced! - core schematic, Heisenberg tried to ignore the nagging thought of how domestic the space had become. Lucky never moved his things - something he was infinitely grateful for. He could recall too well his ever boiling frustration at having his room "cleaned" when living in the castle. The maids were well-meaning, but always adjusting. The room he had held would have felt more his own had he been able to move his own furniture around without the chambermaids fawning over him.

"No, no, young Lord Heisenberg! This is all wrong...off you go...go play...we will fix this mess."

Now on his own and in his element of chaos, he felt comforted, even if secretly so, that Lucky never seemed to complain.

Comforted...but cautious.

The day at the stronghold seemed stamped into his memory...right in the front for all to see. It remained a wonder Lucky didn't see it on his face.

The knowledge.

The horrible, horrible knowledge.

Love.

Staring at an old newspaper clip-out that he had saved with a picture of a modern car on its faded pages, he absently pushed the glasses back up his nose.

It tired him - the constant need to flip back and forth between acknowledging his feelings and thrusting them as far down as he could manage. Drowning them out with that beautiful sound of cinching machinery. Allowing them to seep into him with every laugh from her lips.

Heisenberg was starting to fall in love with the woman. The woman he had failed to kill - the lucky one to survive his maze. The woman his mother expected him to impregnate in order for Miranda's mad vessel to be born and to be killed all in the name of misery.

Misery otherwise known as Eva.

Slowly but certainly, Lucky was driving him insane. Reminding him of things he could never, ever have. Teasing him over and over for days on end.

Heisenberg remembered all too well his reason for entering the office. He had nearly sliced his own arm clean off his shoulder when he lost himself to his situation. To the possibility that, despite his body being so ill-suited for the task, Lucky could have his child. Would want his child. His thoughts, as they so often did, snapped back to the need for freedom - for the need for the arms to come loose from his latest corpse to transform them into one of his many soldiers.

But the more he thought of freedom, the more she sat in the background of his mind.

The more she sat there, the more his tired musings began to stitch together.

The more freedom and Lucky - the two dreams of his world - became intertwined.

He had been thinking of her - of Lucky - beside him the day that he won freedom from the village.

Won freedom...and her.

"You did it, Heis! You did it!"

Lucky would never know how dear it was to him...the fact that her emotions ran so freely with her very being. Beaming. She would do nothing less than beam at him. Her eyes would glow and crinkle at their tails as they did when she gave him her most genuine smiles.

"You did it. You're free. Our...our family is free."

"...family?"

She would grab his hand. Just one. He needed the other steady on her cheek.

Lucky would bring that hand clasped in her own to her belly.

"Our family..."

"Our...another...another Heisenberg?"

In his dreams, she shyly escaped his gaze to nod.

"You...you haven't been alone. Not with me. Not with the start of our family. But now...now, Heis..." Her eyes popped back up all soft and sincere. "Now you'll never be alone again. Not with our baby Heisenberg on the way..."

The only break from his reverie was the slice to one of his favorite stained t-shirts. Only the fact that it was Heisenberg's powers directing the saw had it falling to the floor instead of through his tensed skin.

Heisenberg could only stand in shocked silence. The arm that had been spared from the violence came to grab his shoulder. Though no injury had occurred, he felt stabbed all the same.

Family...and joy?

Lucky...with him?

Another Heisenberg...alive?

A thought washed over him like ice entering his veins.

A boy or a girl...would we have a boy or a girl first?

First.

As if Lucky wished to be objected to more of his perverted and preposterous daydreams.

When he left the room, the metal was still shaking.

"Gotta get that fucking schematic...keep forgetting it...keep going to the office and...fuck...keep talking to her. Gotta stop fucking talking to her. Schematic. Get the fucking schematic."

Lucky had been asleep in bed when he first entered. A rushing relief to his soul. But as the search for the schematic went from flipping through one file to frantically reshuffling the wayward stack the paper should have been in, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would appear.

"Oh...ah!" Lucky yawned all cute and squeaky. "Good morning, Heis."

"Morning," he said flatly. "You...you move any of these lately?"

"No," she said sleepily. "I don't touch those...way above my pay grade. What are you looking for?"

"Core schematic," he grumbled. "Not fucking here...where the hell did I put it?"

Though Lucky made a very pointless questioning noise, she said nothing as she sat down and began her daily transcriptions. Hell, he had been grateful. She showed concern because she was simply a good person beneath all of the trauma and the terror she had reigned on his self-image. But she didn't pry or attempt to enter his space afterward where she would clearly only be in the way.

But that was before her second moan filled the office.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, never looking up from his stack of papers.

A frustrated sigh and a grumble came from the desk chair.

"Think I slept on my neck funny last night," she said. "Doesn't help that my posture is shit. Just making it impossible to find a good angle to work in."

Growing agitated at his fruitless search, Heisenberg whipped around to look at her. "Want some help?"

"Mmn?"

"Want a massage or something?" he offered. "A...ha! You'll find this funny. Supersized one up in the castle? Used to love to make me massage her neck when I was a kid. Fucking manual labor when I was barely old enough to write. Had maids to do it - an assload at that - and forced me to instead."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lucky frowned. "Was it...did she...did she hurt you? Like...if you didn't do it?"

"Ah nah," he said, taking careful steps over to Lucky. "Told you...when I was a kid, I was off limits. I whine about it now...but...well...I was a kid. Bitch loves kids. So I had to massage her back...but only part of this stupid salon thing we used to do together. It was nothing. Stupid. Just like her."

He did not know what to make of Lucky's face. Tilting her head, she steadied a look on him that could only be called curious.

"It's...it's a good memory? Of Alcina when you were small?"

Heisenberg scoffed.

"It's a memory," he said, standing behind Lucky with a wide stance and an even wider stare at her neck. "Not good or bad...just...there. Now...where's it hurt, kid?"

Raising a hand, Lucky placed her fingers on a section of her neck before swirling her touch.

"Ah...there...like just this one spot, but fanning out..."

"Okay...looks like your C7."

"My what now?"

Chuckling, Heisenberg moved her hand out of the way. "Your C7 vertebrae. Duck your chin down so I can get in here properly."

Doing as she was told, Lucky's head moved forward and Heisenberg placed his gloved hands against her neck. His thumbs encased the pained area and began to move in slow yet sturdy circles.

Lucky immediately began squirming.

"Can you maybe try without the gloves?" she asked. "Those are like...rough or something."

Casting off his gloves quickly, Heisenberg rolled his shoulders before trying again. "Wah, wah, wah...doing you a favor and you're out here complaining. That better, your highness?"

"Yes, actually," she said, relaxing. "And thank you. Asshole."

Puffing air out of his mouth, Heisenberg merely shook his head as he kneaded her skin.

"Mmn!"

Heisenberg tried to hide his stillness by immediately starting to massage her skin again.

But the noise could not be ignored.

"What was that?"

"Your hands...they're so warm. Fuck...feels good."

"Oh..." he said dumbly. Blinking down at her, he turned his head away as he kept his fingers in motion.

The fact that his cock had begun to waken in his pants was not lost on him.

"Are you using your electric powers? Is that why it feels so good?"

"Nah...really shouldn't do that on the living above the waist."

Above the waist...but below the waist...

"Ah," he continued, running his teeth over the scar on his lower lip. "Cause of the heart or whatever. Probably your brain too from this angle. Could fry both without meaning to. And I was working...earlier. Probably why they feel hot."

Lucky sighed as he continued to work her neck. His fingers were sweeping but slow. He had started off so intently and so rough. What had happened?

I felt her skin. Felt her beneath me. Felt her neck...for all she knows I could snap it right now and instead of being afraid she's welcoming me...she trusts me...trusts me enough to let me do this...

The next round of his fingers on her neck dipped into skin purposeful in their worship.

Her response was immediate.

"Oh...oh...good boy," she whispered.

To say he was lost for words was like calling water wet.

Though he kept his massage in a rhythmic round, his eyes were wide as they could possibly be behind his glasses. So wide that they hurt.

What the hell did she just do to me?

If he had to go off of physical injury, he would say she punched him in the stomach with all the force of a train running at full speed.

If he had to go off of an attack to his psyche, he would say she wormed her way into some long buried and forgotten wire that sent his entire brain into overdrive.

If he had to go off the erection now straining against his paints, he would say that he was royally fucked.

"You really are so good at this," she said, her voice still breathless. "Good boy...my good boy, Heis."

Heisenberg snatched his hands away as if Lucky were lava.

"Wait! No...what's wrong?" she asked, turning slightly to look at him.

If she looks down...if she sees...

"GOTTA TAKE A SHIT!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Lucky's mouth dropped open as she gaped at him.

Then she nodded with a laugh playing at her lips.

"Yeah. Go. Just come back and finish your massage."

Before he could finish blinking, he found himself storming down the hallway.

Well...intending to storm. His gait was impacted a bit by his dick standing at full mast and his hands hurriedly attempting to unbuckle the straps around his pants.

So FUCKING dumb. A shit? Really? he thought, visibly grimacing. It would have probably been less embarrassing to admit I was about to jack it to her calling me hers.

Hers...her good boy...good...I'm her good boy...hahaha...

What am I? A fucking dog?

...don't answer that.

Rushing into the break room, he considered the couch before catching sight of the bathroom. With a flick of one wrist as his other hand pulled his cock from his underwear and pants, Heisenberg slammed open the bathroom door.

He managed to slide his pants down his legs as he sat on the toilet and closed the door with the weakest of hand movements.

Finally free from judgment, Heisenberg hissed as he fumbled his glasses to the nearby counter and took himself into his hand.

"Good boy...her good boy...fuck...fuck yeah I am, baby..."

A groan and a grunt fell from his lips as he jerked his hand along his shaft.

All too often this act had been nothing but release from tension. An exploration so technical and so tedious as to be boring. But now with Lucky at his side and in his bed - however platonically she slept there - the images that plagued him seemed vibrantly real and tempting in their joyful teasing.

Imaginings - hopes and dreams and fantasies - that he could only cling onto in the moment.

The desk.

He would take her right on that same desk she was taking notes on.

"Oh, Karl," she would say, despite not knowing his first name. "Gonna be my good boy?"

"Yes," he said aloud, eyes closing and mind prickling with sights of her and waves of pleasure.

Lucky would be splayed on his desk - lying on her back and presenting herself to him as if she were a meal to be consumed instead of a darling treasure to worship.

"That's good...only good boys are allowed to fuck me. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes...yes...god fucking damnit. YES." Huffing and hating the tremble in his thighs, Heisenberg bucked into his hand. "Yes...only me...wanna be your good boy. I'll be so good for you. Only you, Mein Schatz..."

A dirty laugh from her lips. The Lucky of his dreams becoming more and more defined as she palmed one breast and teased her clit with the fingers of her other hand.

"Mmm...know what you're saying you know...my treasure...that's so cute...been feeling the same way about you lately...thinking of you...dreaming of you...my good boy want to tell me what else he's been feeling? Mmn? Big boy wanna tell me before you put your cock inside of me?"

Lips loose along with his pleasure, Heisenberg found he could not build his voice to say the words aloud.

So he mouthed them instead. Mouthed them and stuttered in his quest for pleasure as his hand curled about his shaft at the "lah" tipping silently from his tongue.

"Oh, darling..." A smile. She'd smile. Genuine and sweet and sincere and all for him. "I love you too, Karl."

"Mmnnn....ah...fu-UCK!" With a panicked inhale, Heisenberg quickly pinched the head of his cock to prevent his end from coming too soon. "No, no, no...not yet...not yet...please..."

Though the pleasure was unlike anything he had previously experienced and his calves clenched in protest of a release delayed, his oncoming orgasm stalled and began to fade.

"Such a good boy," said Lucky, eyeing him in his fantasy like she would look at a drink of water on a hot day. "That's right. You don't come until I tell you to. Understand?"

A nod of his head.

"Good, good boy. My good boy. Good Karl. Come on...think it's time you got your treat...here...I'll help you..."

With her fingers moving to fully expose the inside of that wet and preciously pink pussy of hers, Lucky looked up at him with a lidded look.

Heisenberg had no experience with another person when it came to handling his physical pleasure. Hell, with any pleasure or positive feeling at all. Except maybe the triumph of victory over others, he had never had the chance to experience happiness - true happiness and trust and faith in another soul.

Until her.

And for her...for her he would indulge and give himself freely...if only locked away inside of his mind.

Inexperience taking a back seat to passion, he pictured himself guiding his cock into her waiting and welcoming body. Maybe he would steady himself with a hand on her hip or simply with a heated stare into her eyes.

He all but strangled his cock to try to mimic a feeling he had never known and had never thought to miss before her.

"Uh-huh," whined Lucky in his dreams. "Oh...you're so big...fill me up just right. So fucking thick..."

"Hah...ah...your good boy big enough for you?"

"Yes...oh yes...yes...so big...such a perfect dick...please...please Karl...Heis...please, baby, please...Heis?"

When he began to rut into his own hand with a purpose, he felt flames like that of standing directly beside the blaring crucible dancing across his cheeks. Though some of his daydream seemed vague and hard to read, he had enough to know that he could not delay the inevitable for much longer. Lucky - the real and actual Lucky - was still waiting for him back in the office. Waiting and none the wiser to his desperate need for her affection. It sickened him - the want for anything and everything to do with her.

Sickened him...and sent electric shocks of white pleasure down his spine.

"So fucking perfect...you're so fucking perfect for me, Lucky...oh..."

"Heis..."

"Huh...ah...already so close...so damn worked up...can't stand it...can't stand you looking like that..."

"Like what?"

Heaving and heatedly squirming where he sat, Heisenberg noticed for the first time that one of his boots jutted up and down on the floor beneath him. As if his entire body refused to be still.

"Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen," he bit out. "Please...please, Luck...I know it's soon...but please..."

A tilted head and a gentle grin. A pointer finger that danced around her clit and drew his eyes away only long enough for her to breathe out shallow and short. His eyes snapped back to hers immediately.

"Please what?"

"Please let me come...let me come inside you...wanna...wanna take you...claim you...don't want you with anyone else ever again."

Glinting eyes and lush eyelashes.

"You're gonna be all that to me, Heis? Well...in that case..."

Her lips finding his own. His very first kiss - albeit imaginary. Her lips soft but without taste. His own lips puckering even as they trembled from the need for more.

"In that case," she continued, taunting him in his ear. "Come, Heis. Be a good boy and come for me."

Hindsight would have him chastising himself for not thinking to grab some tissue. In the moment, however, he was too busy panting and watching his cum dot the floor in thick strips. Heisenberg growled...tried to hold on to the image of her with one eye still closed.

Reality settled in on him. Settled in even as his stomach quivered underneath his shirt and his orgasm began to relax into his bones. It was pleasant and his every nerve seemed to stand on edge. Tingles of pleasure radiated from his chest to his feet flat against the floor. Gulping in air, he knew he had never come so hard before in his life. It was good...great even.

But it was not her. It was not enough.

Clean up was a quick and tedious affair. Lucky could not know what he had done in her quarters. The tissues he found too late to wipe his seed from the floor were tossed and flushed away. He checked the room once and then again once his shades were back on his face.

Finishing the belt at the top of his pants, he cleared his throat before exiting.

The television in the break room still hummed though it sat completely dead in the meager light from the ceiling.

Shit...glad she wasn't in here. Never had anyone here to care about when I got down to business...no telling what my powers do with electronics...

The schematic. He had to find that damn schematic.

Trying to level his breathing as he stalked the hallway, Heisenberg considered the day before him. Lucky had not wished to attend a revitalization attempt with him yet. While he didn't intend to push her into seeing something that might scar her again, it might be worthwhile to have her eyes in the room at some point. She hadn't complained about the notes yet. Maybe he should offer? Make it sound like a small deal and let her in when it was near completion? Give her a taste before exposing her to more?

Fucking stupid...it's all so fucking stupid...what happened to me? If she were any assistant, I would just drag her ass there and have her record the whole thing. Fuck me with all this concerned shit.

But she's not just any assistant...

Entering the office, he stilled at the doorway when he saw Lucky facing him from her chair.

"Uh...hey," he said, licking his lips. "Sorry about that. Took...ah...let's just forget it."

"Actually," she began. "I need to be honest with you. Because of what happened before..."

Eyebrows shooting up, he stood in silence before she continued.

"Um...so...I was sitting here...sitting here and trying to rub my neck or whatever..."

"Yes?"

"Well...the radio came on and it freaked me out a little bit..." She paused, her fidgety look dropping to the floor. "But...the more I listened...the more I...recognized your voice."

"My...my voice?"

"Yes."

Heisenberg could not move. He shouldn't be looking at her, but he was afraid if he blinked that the tension would break and she would begin laughing or cursing or, worst of all, apologizing.

"Umm...it...I heard you. And I guess you were...I guess it was real time." A tent of her fingers and a swallow in her throat. "I heard your comment and responded and...I think...I think you could hear me too. Possibly? You seemed to...seemed to be replying to what I said directly."

Shame. Shame for a million years fell on his shoulders that had felt so light before.

"Where?" he managed to say. "Where did you come in? What comment did you respond to?"

How she looked at him, he had no idea. She was far braver than he could ever be. Heisenberg planned to face down Miranda without a single hesitation one day on that glorious battlefield where his freedom could be won.

But now? Faced with Lucky standing and walking toward him with the full weight of her eyes upon him?

He looked away.

"You said...you asked me if my good boy was big enough for me."

The purr in her voice. The sound of her steps growing closer. The burn in his throat.

"After that," she said. "I called your name...I...responded to you and you to me."

"That didn't...I..." He shook his head. "I...umm..."

"Can I hold your hand?"

Head shooting up, Heisenberg caught her heated look. The same heated look she had worn in his dreams.

He nodded. Nodded even though he barely registered it until she took his hand and steps to press herself flush against him.

When she spoke, it was hushed and low.

For him and him only.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom...freshen up. Since we know you can communicate from the radio to the television...I want you to tell me when it's okay to come back here. I'm giving you two options."

Heisenberg hung on her every word and looked at her as if she controlled his every movement.

"The first...you can leave. Can give me enough time to go there...find what you were looking for...then tell me you're off to do whatever. I won't mention this again. We won't mention it."

Silence fell between the two of you. A crackle of the radio to the side of the room.

"And the other option?" he asked, voice nearly breaking.

A shy look. A happy tilt of her lips.

"The other option...you can rest for a bit before I come back here and make whatever fantasy you were having come true."

A mouth drier than dry left his tongue feeling too large. Too large and too needed to swipe across his lips.

"You don't have to answer now-"

"The second one," he said. "Second one. Want that one. Screw the first one."

A bright and happy smile. A smile that crinkled the tail of her eyes and lit up her face.

She was beaming at him. Squeezing his hand before parting from him.

Not for long...not for damn long if he could help it.

"You give me the word then, good boy," she teased, walking out of the room.

Legs nearly buckling and sending him to the ground, Heisenberg took uneasy steps to his office chair before throwing himself on it. His entire body buzzed, though it seemed far less like electricity and far more like promise and hope. Not love on her end...not yet. But a maybe. Potential.

More.

Grinning stupidly and looking at the desk, he made quick work of clearing the area for the fun he planned on having from his daydream to come true.

As soon as he picked up the recorder Lucky used to transcribe his notes, Heisenberg saw it.

That damned schematic.

His last visit to this same room. A note on said schematic stating "DON'T FORGET" in large words. A note he carelessly put there before guiding Lucky to sit down to look at her transcriptions and laugh with her over the sixth stable boy in one week to die of drunken stupidity.

Quietly and contentedly, he opened the desk drawer to stuff the schematic inside.

"Mmn...don't think I'll need you for a while yet actually..." Eyeing the radio on the wall, Heisenberg tossed his glasses to the table and tried to slick and perfect the wiry hair about his head. "Oh, Lucky, honey...room is ready whenever you are...and so is your good boy."

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[ectonurites]

What are your opinions on Teen titans

'Teen Titans' is very broad. lots of things that could refer to, so i'll give my opinions on all the possible ones i can think of:

Vol. 1 / Silver Age - i have read like 3 total comics from that era but love the vibes tbh

1967 Filmation shorts - THESE ARE SO FUNNY PLS WATCH THEM!!! they're like on youtube. theres so much going on

The New Teen Titans (80s) - i still need to actually read this run start to finish not just in random chunks when the mood strikes/i have a specific question im trying to answer but like, iconic

Vol. 2 (90s) - i forgot this one existed until i was just looking at all the different possible teen titans things to talk about. so. i think that says my thoughts about that

2003 Cartoon - i grew up on this one babey (like i remember watching it as new episodes came out and everything) its always gonna hold a special place in my heart and tbh was one of my first introductions to superhero stuff in general

New Teen Titans shorts - these were so cute. the who is red x one where gar insists its jason... iconic

Vol. 3 (2003) - Geoff Johns face my wrath for what you did to the core four. but um. a WILD ride from start to finish i can tell you that!!!! i shit talk this comic a lot but like it does definitely have its moments and there are some cool and interesting things it did, it just also showed a blatant disregard for previous characterization of four of its main characters which annoys the shit out of me and always will.

Tiny Titans - SHOWSTOPPING. LEGENDARY. THE ONLY COMIC EVER

Teen Titans Go! - im going to be so real with you i understand why so many ppl hate this show but its actually so fucking funny to me. i dont regularly watch it or anything but like. it is so amusing to me. every time i remember the urn marked 'Robin II' displayed next to a crowbar i lose MY MIND. or the 'NOBODY CARES ABOUT TIIIIM DRAKE'.

Vol. 4 (2011/New 52) - this comic caused me physical pain to read. nothing makes sense. none of the characters are themselves. shit is just a mess, an absolute mess. however Bunker? Miguel? I love him. best thing to come out of this damn comic.

Teen Titans Go! To The Movies - go watch this right fucking now if you haven't seen it. its literally so good even most ppl who hate ttg still will admit its good. my friend recently reminded me that when we saw it in theaters there was a part that made me laugh so hard i literally fell out of my chair

Vol. 5 (2014/Still New 52) - this one is also really bad but at least its kinda funny. definitely more pleasant to read than Vol. 4 but like its still not good or pleasant to read, i just mean that like, in comparison. the last two issues i actually genuinely like tbh (bc #23 is a standalone like, just nice team story, and then #24 is a memorial for Tim after he 'died' in Rebirth)

Justice League vs Teen Titans movie - the dcamu is a fucking fever dream but like the concept of max from wizards of waverly place voicing jaime while violet from american horror story voices raven amused me so much. also the FUCKIN UHHH MAGICAL GIRL-ESQUE TRANSFORMATION SCENE WITH DAMIAN THEN JUST TRYING TO BREAK INTO THE CAR FOR HIS SWORD IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

Teen Titans: Judas Contract movie - its the judas contract. it is what it is.

Vol. 6 (Rebirth) - i have not read too much of this one (like. ive read... chunks of it but not the whole thing) but eh. i've heard bad things about later parts of it especially and from what i've read that seems to... line up.

Titans TV show - a hot mess. superhero riverdale. i binged the first two seasons within 48 hours. very nice costumes and mostly very well cast but the writing makes me die

Tween Titans - in that one episode of dc superhero girls. im just obsessed with Dick having the thick jersey accent its so fucking funny

Teen Titans Academy - I really was not vibing with it early on but as we've actually gotten to focus on the new kids more i've liked it more, but overall its just way too bloated of a cast. having the new characters students, the previous team older students, and then the og titans as teachers is just... too much to focus on in one book. then also did not like the attempt at dick/babs/kory love triangle drama in like issue 2 get tht shit outta here

and if u meant more just the team overall like. i think the titans are cool

[krreader]

diamond maknae | realizations.

pairing: min yoongi x diamond maknae!reader fandom: bts warnings: 8th member of bts!reader ; maknae!reader ; sex ; language  genre: smut ; fluff ; angst word count: 1.8k+

summary: this was bound to happen eventually, but now that it did... how will you two handle the aftermath?

a/n: asdfghjkl goodbye, I love them, that’s all I can say (also, so glad you sent that request in yesterday, bc this story was almost finished lol)

Whenever you had a show, you were usually focused to the core. Your thoughts consisted of nothing but lyrics, dance moves and facial expressions. But today simply wasn't one of those days.

You stood in a hallway, your eyes staring ahead of you and your brain barely even realizing that there were other idols – some of those your friends – passing by and greeting you.

Whatever you were thinking about had you transported into a different world altogether.

“Hey,” Jimin's hand on your shoulder finally made you snap out of it, shaking your head a little and then looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“Aren't you feeling well? You seem.. off.”

That's because you were. But this wasn't something that he could help you with, much less was it something that you wanted to share with him. So you just faked a smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

It was a good excuse. After all, you had to get up at 3AM this morning and you went to bed extremely late. So good of an excuse that Jimin accepted it with a nod and turned his attention back to Namjoon.

All of your band members listened to what the leader had to say except for you and.. well.

“Let's talk after this,” you heard him whisper, feeling his hot breath against your ear.

Yeah, there he was. The reason why you were acting so weird today. Min Yoongi.

That hot breath against your neck only awoke memories of last night that you weren't sure if you wanted to forget or brand them into your mind, so you'd never lose them.

How could this have even happened?

You closed your eyes for a moment and it all came flooding back like you were back where you were last night.

“Oh, you're home early,” you grinned happily when you saw Yoongi walk into the living room.

All of the others were out, either working on something in regards to the performance on the show or to enjoy a late night meal with their idol friends.

When it came down to music shows, you always liked to take it slow the night before, knowing that you'd have to get up extremely early. You wanted to rest as much as possible, hence, you always staying back when everyone else went out.

Yoongi was usually one of those who worked through the night, but not this time, apparently.

“Taehyung texted and said that everyone left. Didn't want you to be on your own,” he placed a bag of takeaway on the coffee table in front of you.

“You know it doesn't bother me.”

But when you opened the bag and saw that he brought food from your favorite restaurant, you got so excited that Yoongi couldn't help but chuckle. Good decision to come here after all.

It wasn't the conversation you had that was an indicator for what was about to happen next. You didn’t even flirt casually like you normally did. Neither of you had anything to drink, so that wasn't the reason either. You really didn't know what it was, in hindsight.

But one moment you were having a friendly conversation and then the next you were reaching out to wipe some sauce from his lower lip with your thumb and BOOM.

Yoongi was surprised, but let you do it. His eyes dropped to your lips and with you being so close it was easy for him to simply grab your hand and pull you towards him to close the distance.

It was a bold move that he easily could have regretted, but the sexual tension that has built between you two had only grown these past weeks and so he had decided to finally act on it.

His intuition hadn't been wrong, because instead of pulling back and slapping him - which would have been your good right -, you were actually the one who quickly settled on his lap and turned the kiss into one that was a lot more heated than what he has had in mind.

Both of you had thoughts of: 'But is this right? Should we be doing this' cross your mind, but the more his hands wandered and the harder his dick grew in his pants, the less you both cared.

Still, this was extremely random and unplanned and maybe that's why it worked. If you had put too much thought into it, who knows if you would have gone through with it, the moral questions probably would have made you not act on your feelings.

But now... now that question was out of the window as Yoongi's hands interlinked under your ass and he got up, carrying you into his bedroom.

As excited as he was for what was about to happen, he'd rather not have the others see this. Because despite being so far gone and into it in that moment, he knew that this was scandalous and would turn messy if anyone found out about it.

He shut the door closed with his foot as soon as he was inside his room, then gently laid you down on his bed and began to kiss your neck.

Yoongi was usually a fan of exploring what his partner liked, but the need to be inside you was so much greater. And thankfully, that was a mutual feeling.

When he pushed up your sweatshirt and wanted to kiss your breasts, you pulled on his hair and made him look at you.

“Forget foreplay.”

That only got him harder as he let out a dark chuckle. He shoved his hand in your sweatpants, straight under your panties to feel how wet you were and boy, oh boy, “Were you looking forward to this, princess?”

“Just shut up already,” you pulled on his shirt and waited for him to take it off and while he did, you took off your own clothes.

One item after the other found its way to the floor, until there was one pile of both of your clothes and you were both completely naked.

Looking back at this, you felt a little dirty at how eager you were in that moment. Had these feelings been hiding inside you all this time? Because when you felt Yoongi's dick at your entrance, you felt yourself dripping, that's how much you wanted him.

His penis slipped inside you so easily that both of you let out a loud and surprised moan.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi moaned out, his hands fisting in the bed sheets beneath him, “Shit, you're so fucking wet, (Y/N).”

If he had known just how good you felt, he would have acted on this sexual tension long before today. Even just slipping inside you once made him regret ever having sex with other people. Because this right there? This was the best feeling he's ever had when it came down to sex.

And once again, it was mutual.

You arched your back and whined, “Please.. fuck me.”

It wasn't romantic and it unfortunately wasn't long either.

You felt so good that Yoongi couldn't hold out long and you were gone the moment he got on his knees to fuck you from a different angle and rubbed hard circles over your clit to make you orgasm with him.

You moaned out your lungs and despite Yoongi usually holding back on the moans, he couldn't this time. He nearly screamed when he filled you with his seed and it was only when it was all spilled inside you that he realized what he had just done.

His wide eyes made you chuckle and pat his naked and sweaty chest.

“I'm on the pill.”

Dodged a bullet right there.

It wasn't uncomfortable that night, but it wasn't something that you talked about either.

You grabbed your clothes and washed up, Yoongi doing the same in the other bathroom. But instead of talking about what just happened, you went into your bedroom and he back into his.

And it was only now, hours later, that you realized what had happened, and the consequences of it.

Yoongi's promise of talking about it afterwards made you nod and try to gather your professionalism.

You couldn't let anyone see that you were so troubled. You just had to make it through this performance and then, when you were back home, you and Yoongi could talk.

And that worked rather well, thankfully. The moment you set foot on stage, you only thought about performing well for your fans. The only time of the day where you got a break from thinking about last night.

But the second you stepped off the stage and the adrenaline wore off, it was over again.

Yoongi didn't let you wait long, though. Not even ten minutes after you had gotten out of the shower and walked into your bedroom, he walked in with two cups of tea.

“You usually only do this when I don't feel good.. bring me tea, I mean,” you said with a small smile.

“You look like you could use something to calm you down,” he handed it to you, then sat down next to you. You weren't sure if it was troubling Yoongi as much as you, or if he was just hiding it better. Right now, he was staring at you as you were drinking the hot beverage and smiling when you let out a happy sigh, “Better?”

“You always manage to make me feel good..- I mean..-” your eyes immediately widened, realizing that this could also be understood in regards to yesterday, but Yoongi quickly laughed it off as he shook his head, “God, why am I acting like this..”

He didn't respond right away, seemed to think about his words first, before he carefully asked: “I'm going to ask you a question now. Don't think about it too much, just answer, okay?” you nodded, then he added: “Do you regret it?”

“No,” you said right away, surprising yourself with that answer. Good thing you didn't think about it, otherwise your bad conscious would have made you say yes.

The answer made Yoongi happy, though. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile, “Glad to hear it.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he put his cup of tea on your nightstand then looked back into your eyes, “Because I don't regret it either. The only thing I regret is that it didn't last any longer.”

That made you snort and gently hit his shoulder, “Stop that.”

He was glad that you seemed more at ease now. He waited for you to drink another sip of the tea, then he added: “I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable, (Y/N). Whatever happens now will be up to you.”

You were so thankful that he was letting you make that decision.

Right now, there was only one question that kept coming up in your head that you needed to know the answer of in order to decide: “Was this just... us acting on the sexual tension?”

“I can't speak for you,” Yoongi brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “But it wasn't for me.”

You unconsciously began to smile and lean into his touch.

"Glad to hear it,” you said in his own words from before.

[antebunny]

April 30: rebirth

(Also called Bargaining–idea is taken from an old Loki fic with the same time travel premise).

When Jiang Yanli dies, Wei Wuxian goes into denial and just runs from Nightless City. He goes back to the Burial Mounds and feverishly works on a time travel array. Within the month he completes it and prepares to travel back in time, but there’s a catch. He first activates the array and then spends the next several hours going through the ritual, while outside the Siege of the Burial Mounds begins. The Wens know what Wei Wuxian is up to so they understand why he’s not bothering to protect them. He completes the ritual just as Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan burst into the cave. They’re both there, at the front, in order to protect Wei Wuxian, but by the time they arrive it’s too late: the array is fading and Wei Wuxian is already dead. He barely sees them in the entrance when he dies, which leads him to (logical) conclusion that they’re there to kill him.

Here’s the catch: Wei Wuxian gets to go back, rewrite time, and change things. He decides to go back to the day before he got kicked out of the Cloud Recesses. But when time finally arrives at the time he activates the array, everyone gets their memories back. Although a lot of people will remember dying, it’s preferable to actually dying. Then Wei Wuxian has to conduct the ritual again, to ensure that this is the future that stays, and seal the deal with his own life. Basically, in order to change the future Wei Wuxian has to die. And obviously because he's Wei Wuxian, he decides that that’s okay so long as everyone gets to live.

So Wei Wuxian comes back to life with a golden core and cries for a solid minute, scaring tf out of Jiang Cheng, before he gets a grip. Then he proceeds to yell at Jin Zixuan, not get kicked out, and live life like everything’s normal. He enjoys the next six months of peace, and then he gets to work. Once the year is over, he goes on a very long night hunting trip, kills the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and sets up the cave for use. A year later and they’re at the archery competition, where Wei Wuxian still places first, meets Wen Ning again, and doesn’t pull off Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon.

Then Wen Ruohan is ~mysteriously~ assassinated and the Wens declare war on all the sects in revenge. When the Wens come for Lotus Pier, there’s no personal vendetta, and Wei Wuxian hides in the shadows and drowns all of them. Then he pretends that he got knocked out and was unconscious somewhere hidden from the main battle where Jiang Cheng finds him. They win the war, and Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan are still alive and bickering with each other, the Jiang sect is still strong, etc. etc. Wei Wuxian personally hunts down Wen Zhuliu early in the war, before he can cause any damage. Then he also kills Jin Guangshan, blames it on the Wens (does it make sense? No. does anyone care? No) and Jin Zixuan commits fully to the war. Jin Zixuan learns to appreciate Jiang Yanli during the war, and since they’re already engaged they get married soon afterwards. Jin Guangyao gets taken in as Jin Zixuan’s younger brother, and since Jin Zixuan is a decent person who doesn’t want him to commit crimes but also needs Help, it goes a lot better. Meanwhile Wei Wuxian finds the DafanWen and they move to the Xuanwu cave, which Wei Wuxian has prepared. Also the carcass of the tortoise should scare anyone away.

Wei Wuxian sticks around to see his sister get married, takes Lan Zhan on a tour of Lotus Pier, at the end of which Lan Zhan proposes. Wei Wuxian is confused but figures that Lan Wangji must like this version of him that hasn’t used resentful energy as far as Lan Wangji knows or recused the Wens as far as he knows, or done any of the things that Other Lan Zhan hated him for. The Wens ask him to adopt A-Yuan, which he does after talking about it with Lan Zhan and after they get married. So now Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are married and they have an adopted child. That part was all the fluff and fix-it, cue the angst. The date of Wei Wuxian’s death draws near, and Wei Wuxian starts getting moody and antsy, starts drinking. Yu Ziyuan yells at him, of course, and everyone else worries over him. It is during one of these blackout drunk sessions that Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji that he fully expects Lan Wangji to regret marrying him in the future. Lan Wangji swears up and down that he won’t, and Wei Wuxian kinda critiques himself and calls himself selfish, for marrying Lan Wangji and raising a kid when he knows it’s not going to last.

Basically Wei Wuxian starts getting skittish and disappears for periods of time to the Burial Mounds, where he acquires enough injuries that Lan Wangji suspects that someone is hurting him, which Wei Wuxian vehemently denies, but Lan Wangji is still Onto him. He goes to Jiang Yanli, who says that Wei Wuxian has been acting differently ever since he came back from the Cloud Recesses, seemed to know things that were going to happen before they did, disappears at odd times and incidents that occur when Wei Wuxian is missing, and they get Jiang Cheng, who recalls that one time Wei Wuxian woke up in the middle of the night and just bawled, and after that didn’t lose his temper on Jin Zixuan, pulled back on his most crazy antics.

Still, none of them suspect the exact day, so on that day, Wei Wuxian gets up, tells Lan Wangji he’s going to train the Jiang juniors, and then just…disappears. Night comes and Lan Wangji is already worried, according to the juniors he never showed. Yu Ziyuan accuses him of slacking, but then Lan Wangji barges in crying, holding a note. In it, Wei Wuxian doesn’t tell him about the time travel, but says that Wei Wuxian is going forever, and Lan Wangji will understand why tomorrow. He understands that it’s too much to wish for that Lan Wangji won’t hate him, after how selfish he’s been and what a terrible person he’s been, marrying Lan Wangji and pretending it can last, but he hopes Lan Wangji can still look back and remember him fondly in the future. He apologizes again and tells Lan Wangji again that he didn’t mean to tarnish Lan Wangji’s reputation or saddle him with a child, but A-Yuan is here now and he knows Lan Wangji loves A-Yuan. He leaves a similar cryptic note for Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, apologizing to all of them for things they don’t understand.

Lan Zhan immediately begins searching for him all through the night, and then in the morning everyone blacks out and suddenly has memories of a different past couple of years, for most people starting with Wen Ruohan getting assassinated. People don’t immediately suspect the Yiling Patriarch, because they think he was simply never created in this timeline, and lives as Head Disciple Jiang and Lan Wangji’s husband, but Wei Wuxian’s family know better. They immediately rush to the Burial Mounds, and find it guarded by corpses. Inside the cave, Wei Wuxian begins conducting the ritual, also crying because he really had a happy life this time and he really really doesn’t want to go, but he can’t bear to revert to the original timeline, not when everyone is still alive here, so he continues. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian find out about the whole yiling patriarch thing and jiang yanli is just like…i don’t care. Jin Guangshan is dead and can’t care, Jin Guangyao doesn’t have a vendetta, Jin Zixuan does what his wife says, and Jiang Yanli is alive so Jiang Cheng has no beef, plus he sees the lengths Wei Wuxian went through to save everyone. He also understands the letter now, then he and Jiang Yanli confront Lan Wangji like…do you no longer love him? Lan Wangji of course reacts poorly to this accusation and denies it. They leave A-Yuan behind and go to the Mounds with the intention of convincing Wei Wuxian that he doesn’t have to run away and they want him back.

They arrive in the cave just as Wei Wuxian is finishing with the ritual. But of course, parallels, Wei Wuxian looks up to see them standing in the entrance of the cave and thinks that they’re there to kill him, but also can see how distressed Lan Wangji looks and attempts to reassure him that he doesn’t have to kill Wei Wuxian! You know, his husband in this timeline! Because Wei Wuxian will do it himself! Wei Wuxian makes them fight some corpses while he rushes to finish the ritual, because they seem keen on stopping him (“i know you disapprove of demonic cultivation but this is the only way to save everyone”). Lan Wangji tackles him away from his ceremonial knife, and Wei Wuxian fights back (still has golden core!) they both fight desperately (“i have to do it myself Lan Zhan, otherwise I would let you do it”) over the knife. Jiang Cheng insists that there must be another solution, bc he doesn’t want Jiang Yanli to die. Then Wen Qing and Wen Ning walk into the cave, and Wen Qing like the genius she is, proposes the Alternate Solution. (What is it? Idk. just a magic solution in which Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to die). Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of fighting Lan Wangji (“i don’t have to die?” he asks while Lan Wangji is busy shattering the knife and then he and Jiang Cheng pin him down so he can stop trying to kill himself in front of them. “Nope,” says Wen Qing, the only person with brains here). So Wei Wuxian sits on the floor of the cave, tied with deity-binding thread (Wei Wuxian: let me go Lan Wangji: not until you promise to go with wen qing’s version of the ritual Jiang Cheng: unless…do you want to leave? Wei Wuxian: no!) (What’s the solution? Maybe all of them sacrifice something important to them, maybe they just…all use their power to BS their way through a solution? Again, I don’t know).

So Lan Wangji unties Wei Wuxian and they hug and kiss and they all head back to Lotus Pier, where they eat a celebratory dinner, and reunite with A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian celebrates the fact that he can live this happy life and not owe the world anything/need to go through the ritual.

The End!

[finitepeace]

this week i read...

Darling, Keep the Lights On (Until I Get Home) by capsicleironman  💙

Summary: When Steve Rogers is awoken from the ice early, he is assigned as the personal assistant to Tony Stark, the man on TV with the strange glowing light in his chest. The plan was simple - protect and gain intel. It was supposed to be just another job, but then again, nothing in Steve's life has ever gone according to plan.

Iron Man 2 Divergence where Steve ends up working for Tony instead of Natasha, and his interest first in the arc reactor and then in Tony himself, leads him through the events of the Avengers, Iron Man 3, and Captain America 2.

17k words 

It's Only Half Past (The Point of Oblivion) by LadyHabren (equalopportunityobsessor)

Summary: "I think it's generally agreed that all of Steve's senses are powered up by the serum? He can hear people whispering on the other side of the room, probably sees a hell of a lot further, etc.

But there are definite downsides. How does Steve control this side effect of the serum?"

Captain America is more than a man - he is a hero, he is an ideal, he is pure muscle held together by patriotism and moral fibre... And not even Captain America can fight it when his own brain turns against him.

4k, sentinel/guide au, not set in mcu, 

Do-Over by gottalovev  💙

Summary: Steve woke up six months ago into a future that leaves him indifferent. There is work, and not much else. His current mission is a basic search and rescue operation to retrieve an American who was kidnapped by a terrorist group ten days ago. He won't let the fact that the hostage is Howard's son be a distraction.

14k words, ironman 1 - 2 but with steve on it!, 

Calls Me Home by steve-capsicle-rogers (adorable_lab_rat)

Summary: Tony can't help but notice the far away look on Steve's face. The visible pain and loss. It wasn't right and giving Steve back everything he'd lost was the right choice. The right thing. And honestly Tony didn't do the right thing near enough.

9k words, post avenger 1, tony time travels to victory day with steve to make him happy 

Memorial by hanyou_elf

Summary: Here rests in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God.

Steve visits Arlington's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in lieu of visting the tombs of those he's lost.

600+ words, steve visits his grave and tony supports 

Damaged by orphan_account

Summary: Prompt: Can you write a story where Tony is having heart problems again even after the shrapnel and arc reactor is removed, like he needs a pacemaker or something please? :)

Steve is worried about Tony after the doctor tells them Tony needs a pacemaker. Tony being Tony decides to build something better.

2k words, arc reactor + health problem 

Warning by laireshi

Summary: Tony's left arm hurts.

100 words, angst post-civil war au 

Told You Dirty Jokes Until You Smiled by ChibiSquirt  💙

Summary: Steve was waiting at light, casually checking out the man in the car behind him, when his phone pinged.

75k words. WIP T_T . steve is cap but tony isnt ironman (yet?). steve is awaken before ironman 1 and meets tony, proceed to have friends with benefits arrangement... 

blood, Lies, and Love by Ridley160

Summary: When Steve Rogers volunteered for Project Rebirth they told him they would make him a hero. No one bothered to tell him that the serum would change him into a monster that needed to feed on the blood of the living for survival. Now he has woken up 70 years in a future where there are more like him and his affliction is now seen as gift. Only Steve is convinced that he is at his core still just a monster.

Then he meets the brilliant, quirky and charismatic Tony Stark, the only person in this crazy new world that seems to understand Steve's misgivings about what he is, but Tony is haunted by something. A secret he has carefully guarded for many years that forced him to push everyone away.

33k words in 13 chapters, steve is cap + a vampire but tony isnt ironman, 

Blood Loss by wisia

Summary: The serum really did work a miracle. It created Captain America, and Tony would like the serum to work a miracle on him too. If only he didn’t fall in love.

5k words, set in captain america 1st avenger, tony is scientist/adventurer looking for a cure for his heart problem 

scientific Heresy by antigrav_vector

Summary: In the process of running the particle accelerator in his basement and fixing the arc reactor, Tony finds himself flung into the past where he has to take on a fight not his own if he wants to get home to stop Vanko. At least he had a chance to replace the old rector that had been killing him with the new one before everything went sideways... But now he has no choice but to face off with family, friends, and old heroes, and none of that sounds remotely appealing. Well, okay, getting to meet them all during their glory days kinda does.

But as it turns out, they're not exactly what he imagined, and his path home is a lot longer than he'd hoped it would be.

And a lot more complicated.

34k words in 12 chapters, time travel au @ cap 1 and ironman 2, steve/tony/bucky 

we will meet in another life by theappleppielifestyle

Summary: Tony is there instead of Howard during Project Rebirth. He ends up following Steve into the Howling Commandos, into the Atlantic ocean and into the 21st century.

6k words, canon divergence. 

Keep on Beating by itsallAvengers

Summary: There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

6k words, self-sacrificing tony strikes again and steve is upset.. so tony comes to a solution... 

Coming Up Roses by NobodysBloodyPrincess  💙

Summary: Those with a death wish referred to the High Commander’s infatuation with the late Tony Stark as an ‘obsession.’ They were wrong. It had to be more than that, after all there was no word for what the High Commander was about do in the name of making things right.

No one gets a redo of life… no one except High Commander Rogers that is. Everything is coming up Roses and Sunshine for him. After all, he has a dream and it’s going to come true.

41k words in 3 chapters, beautiful but a bit dark and sad, just like the author said: “‘i’ll be with you till the end of line’ but stony”, definitely one of the best fic i’ve read because THEY ARE HAPPY T_T 

The One With Bucky's Biggest Fan by justanotherpipedream

Summary: Steve still can’t believe how long it took for him to notice. It wasn’t a secret really, just something that no one had cared to ask...it honestly took Rhodey pulling him aside and pulling out an old photo album, before Steve really understood.

Tony Stark was a Bucky Barnes fan.

(aka The one where Tony is the biggest Bucky Barnes fanboy, Steve is a supportive boyfriend, and Bucky is perplexed by it all.)

2k words, it’s all in the summary 

Sins of the Mother by skullshy  💙

Summary: All she could see when her eyes closed was Steve’s face in the courtroom. Stern, pained— with that fucking all-American self-righteousness.

Toni wondered for years whether it would have made a difference. Told him that she was pregnant, that Ultron was to protect their baby, and how sorry she was.

On her worst days, she imagined it wouldn’t have mattered.

23k words in 23 chapters, female tony stark, civil war (or age of ultron?) canon divergence 

So this is bonded life by Captainstark12

Summary: Steve had been protecting the human village from hydra creatures like him for five years. And now he was ready to take his prize as he had the privilege of choosing an omega to bear his child. Hopefully his chosen omega human would want him back as much as he wanted him

4k in 6 chapters, mythology au 

I don't think there's a manual for this by itsallAvengers

Summary: So. His son can stick to things, apparently.

If only Tony had realised this before he'd caught him hanging off the 89th floor of the tower.

Well. Parenting was never going to be a smooth road, was it?

2k words, stony adopts peter parker and then they become superfamily 

For Your Eyes Only by SarahHBE

Summary: Every soldier looks forward to mail call. But Alpha Steve Rogers gets a big surprise with the letter his Omega, Tony Stark, has sent him.

2k words, explicit bcs of sexual content 

It Was Just A Matter Of Time by babynative

Summary: The clock was ticking. And then, black.

719 words, civil war canon divergence, angst 

This Can't Be The Last by MusicalLuna

Summary: Hours after a mission ends, Tony's heart starts to race.

1k words, tony had a heart attack, but not angst! 

The Billionaire and the Army Captain by Neverever

Summary: Facing finanical ruin and needing to care for his sick daughter, Steve Rogers agrees to marry Tony Stark, who needs to get married by his 30th birthday to inherit. It's just a job for Steve until he starts to fall for the enigmatic billionaire.

12k words, non-powers au, 

Adopt by greenteeth  💙

Summary: Steve's life is the same as usual. He goes to work, fights super villains, banters with other Avengers and goes home to an empty apartment. Until the son of an old friend shows up asking for help, well sex first, then help. Suddenly Steve is married, fighting super villains, worrying what Obadiah Stane and coming home to Tony most nights of the week.

42k words in 17 chapters, ABO, tony is not iron man, the story is complete but it’s a part of series that seems to never see the light T_T 

The Act of Creation Will Be Your Salvation  by scifigrl47  💙

Summary: When Tony Stark was seventeen years old, he built his first AI. On that day, he ceased to be his father's creation, and became a creating force in his own right.

That one act likely saved his life, and not always in the most obvious ways.

84k words in 8 chapters, stony but mostly looking through his AI bots a.k.a. jarvis and dum-e, definitely one of the best fics ever! 

Bewitched, Body and Soul by iam93percentstardust

Summary: Almost ten years after joining the British Army, Steve Rogers returns to his childhood home after his mother's death. The house seems quiet in a way that it's rarely been. But the peace is shattered when his oldest friend stumbles into his home and into his life, seeking an escape from an arranged marriage to a cruel lord. Steve provides that escape but finds himself engaged to be married instead. This wouldn't be a problem - except that Steve is, always has been, and always will be deeply in love with Tony Stark.

16k words, regency AU, ABO,  the classic stony misunderstanding trope 

Right place, right time by hkandi, ralsbecket

Summary: An alternate take on the Captain America: The First Avenger movie. Tony is working with his dad to help out the SSR on this new project, though he and Steve happen to run into each other before that, and sparks fly from the start.

8k, CA: First avenger AU with tony stark present

[we-are-inevitable]

new javid au?? you bet!!

hi ok so i thought of an au. basically a stereotypical hallmark movie but make it javid. this au featuures: jack “i was raised on a farm and practice saying important conversations to my cows” kelly and david “i went to college in a big city because i’m built different” jacobs

i might eventually write this out into a fic !! soooo,,

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION:

the jacobs family lives in a small town in a southwestern state.

david jacobs is, of course, a bit of an outsider in the town. he's not interested in farming or country things, he's more into the Big Outside World and wants to study something that isn't very "traditional" for his area (i'm thinking comparative literature or journalism (with a minor in queer studies that he Does Not Talk About because Hello, Small Town!)

anyways he has a devoted friendgroup that he spends a lot of time with:

sarah (david's twin sister, who isn't afraid to get into trouble and has never been very 'ladylike'; plays softball and runs track with tony)

jack (latino farm boy with a heart of gold, a shitty father and a hidden artistic talent; basically the glue that holds the group together)

katherine (a girl who constantly feels trapped in a close-minded small town and wants to get out; also into journalism)

tony (who they call racetrack because he's an all-state cross country runner; biggest dumbass but can solve any math problem ever)

sean (he's basically a god on the football field; extremely intelligent, can play at least 6 instruments; called 'spot' bc Freckles)

charlie (Literally The Best Human Ever; student council president, National Honor Society president, also in drama)

and albert (probably a stoner but he's chill and legitimately the funniest person; troublemaker but also a literal golden retriever)

there's more of them that float between friend groups, but, of course, Davey, Sarah, Jack, Katherine, Tony, Sean, Charlie, and Albert are the "core" friends.

but. surprise: davey is the only one who goes out of state for college.

the rest split up, but stay in state. Jack goes to a trade school (he takes welding courses at the local vo-tech), Tony and Sean end up going to a community college together about 30 minutes away from home, albert goes straight into the workforce under a relative's wing, and charlie, kath, and sarah all go to a big university about 3 hours away from home.

but not davey. no, davey goes to a school in new york, just because he needs to get away from everything.

because davey goes to school on the other side of the country, he rarely gets the chance to come home. this, of course, means that he slowly drifts away from all of his high school friends- aside from sarah, obviously, because he still sees family a lot, but he doesn't talk to anyone else that often... especially jack.

now, jack and david were never a "thing," but there was always some underlying tension. longing stares, late night talks on the roof of jack's barn, hangouts at the diner in town. they were inseperable, pretty much. by far the closest friends out of the group... until jack and katherine started dating. and, yeah, david is happy for them. he's so happy for them- he jumps up and down and screams and shouts when kath and jack show up to school one day holding hands- because jack and katherine have been his closest friends for YEARS. they’re their own little subgroup- Jack, Kath, and Davey- and they go pretty much everywhere together. sometimes sarah tags along too, so david isn't third wheeling, but most of the time it's just the three of them.

but it hurts so much, because david likes jack. but jack is apparently straight. so david goes away. goes to a school across the country instead of, yknow, facing his feelings.

FAST FORWARD TO ABOUT TEN YEARS LATER!!!

david is a successful 28 year old. after graduating from college (where he ended up double majoring in english and journalism, with a minor in queer studies), he works for a publishing company and has a pretty cushy job as an editor or something, idk yet, and he's doing really, really well for himself- until one day, he gets a call from his mom, Esther, and finds out that his father is sick. sicker than he should be, really, and they're just now convincing him to get checked out.

of course, after hearing the news, David is torn. his family is from a small town, so job opportunities are hard to come by... but regardless, within a little over a week, David has moved back home to help take care of things.

pretty soon, david has a job. thanks to his background knowledge in journalism and his writing ability, he's able to score a job from Joseph Pulitzer, who runs a few newspapers in their town and others in the surrounding area. he feels like he's gotten a whole new start from the past he disliked so much, until it all comes back to bite him in the ass when he runs into Jack Kelly at the co-op. 

"Davey?"

"Wha-- Oh! Jack?"

"Good to see ya, man! What are ya doin' back?"

"I moved back a few weeks ago. Missed home, you know?"

"Just couldn't stay away, could ya?"

"Guess not."

they talk for a few minutes, but eventually have to split apart- jack has to get his feed back to the farm before his girls, aka: his cows, get angry, and davey has to get the chicken scratch back home before esther maims him. they exchange numbers, though, and promise to catch up sometime soon.

after that encounter, Jack Kelly ends up showing up a lot more often. davey sees him all the time without meaning to. in line at the grocery store, at the co-op, stopped next to him at the one stoplight in the middle of town- everywhere. they're never able to talk, though; not until one evening, davey gets a call from jack. 

at first, conversation is a bit tense- but only because it's been so long since they've talked. once the ball gets rolling, though, they're laughing and carrying on like they never stopped talking. when the conversation calms down a bit, jack asks davey if he'd like to come over.

"i'd love to, if your wife doesn't mind having a guest, of course."

"i... actually don't have a wife."

"oh-- oh, i'm sorry, i just assumed-"

"nah, it ain't nothin' to twist yourself up about. you know where i live, yeah? swing by 'round seven."

"sounds like a plan." 

and that's how davey finds out that jack owns the land that his father's farm was on. the house, though, is different- and he soon realizes that jack has completely remodeled. the porch isn't rotting anymore, and the yard is green and trimmed, and the pond out in the back yard doesn't look god-awful anymore, much to davey's delight.

dinner goes off without a hitch. everything goes right, just like old times. they swap college stories. jack tells davey about inheriting the farm and making it his own (likely to scrub every piece of his father out of his life), while davey tells jack about the big city and how different it is being home. it's nice. comfortable. familiar.

jack and davey try to meet up as often as they can after that night, which is difficult considering their schedules, but they somehow make it work. they make it really work, in fact- they have dinner twice a week (usually with some old friends), they fish together (read: jack fishes while david sits on the back of his truck and talks to him), and they even go to rodeos and football games together (to look back on they're youth, of course). 

one night, about a week before jack's 29th birthday, they meet up at the bar in town and spend hours drinking beer and whiskey and talking about life. once they make it back to jack's house, they continue talking on the couch, but talking turns into cuddling ("just for old time's sake") and cuddling turns into confessions ("i only dated those girls because i thought it would help me get over you") and confessions turn into tears ("when he found out, he kicked me out of the house") and tears turn into promises ("i loved you then, jack, and i'll love you now") and promises turn into more. 

eventually, more turns a knee on a ground and a ring on a hand. eventually, a ring on a hand turns into a wedding. eventually, a wedding turns into memories, years down the line, while sitting on an old porch swing and watching grandchildren play in the front lawn.

the end !!!!

[ziracona]

Dwight/Jake wedding headcanons maybe? They deserve it.

For sure!

It’s a couple years down the road. They’ve been living in the Indiana house with Adam, while the others orbit in and out from Springwood and Lockport and Haddonfield and Indianapolis and Bloomington and New Jersey and Missouri and New York and such every few days. It’s peaceful and fun there for them. Woods, big house, familiar smells and people and memorobelia and Ron’s grave and markers added nearby for Vigo and Alex and Lisa and Sujan and the person from the lab with no name and the survivors who came before them and never got to be buried. It’s home. They’re just chilling, Dwight and Jake talking with intent but also very relaxed about something while Adam edits a sequel in his easy chair, deep in edit mode, when Jake calls over, “Hey Adam, do you want to be a best man, or do you want to marry us?”

Which Adam hears the wrong homophone for for a second and almost takes him out before he realizes they meant the other version of ‘marry’ and remembers how to breathe again.

He stutters out a, “Well, I, uh—I mean, I can do whichever you’d prefer, but I’m not ordained. In. Anything. I know I did Min and Nea’s, but—”

“—Yeah, we know, but we just need it to be legal,” Jake shrugs, “and we don’t want a stranger at the wedding period, so someone’s getting ordained.”

“I think you can get ordained online in like an hour,” adds Dwight helpfully, “and we’re not religious either, but—and now that I’m saying this it was Meg so that means I should make sure becuase sometimes her memory for numbers is uhhh bad, but she told me like a week ago you only need ten people to officially get your new religion recognized. And we could be ‘the survivors’ or something. I don’t know I believe in much, but I believe in that.”

Jake nods. “Whatever is true, this group of people can rip a hole in the fabric of the universe for each other. I’d ascribe to that.”

“I kind of like that,” says Adam, “I would too. But if we have a spiritual ‘leader’, wouldn’t Ace be a better choice than me? Or Jane?”

This is considered a good point and they debate between Adam, Jeff, Tapp, Jane, and Ace for a bit, [Philip is also briefly considered, but they realize just as fast he’d be overwhelmed and stressed by having to do it & mercifully swap him to another role], then decide on Ace, who’s always been the kind of...not exactly dad, not exactly uncle, but not not those things, and certainly some kind of an early spiritual or morale core for them, parentish figure, and a comfort and hope leader for them all. Also, they know he’ll get a fkn kick out of being ordained for this.

Dwight takes Quentin as his Best Man, Claudette his Maid of Honor, and Jake takes Nea as Matron of Honor, Andrew as Best Man, and Meg as Maid of Honor. They decide fuck it, and it’s kinda Parks & Rec (an argument used by and against Jake many times the next few weeks) anyway, and also both take Adam and Philip as Best Men because fuck it, it’s too hard and also wedding rules are arbitrary and made to be broken, and so then Jake adds Kate as a bridesmaid, Dwight adds Laurie, they realize the number of survivors is dwindling dangerously and decide fuck it, our wedding is for us might as well be fkn weird and cool, and add David, Min, Tapp, Jane, Jeff, and Laurie as groomsmen and bridesmaids too. This still leaves Michael, Anna, Sally, Benedict, Susie, Jeff’s three Legion kids, and everyone’s families which is like fkn a lot of people, to be audience party (sans Nancy, who is pleaded with to be wedding party and run the music pre-reception because the number of people that they want involved /and/ who won’t give in to or be tricked by Meg into some kind of terrible flash mob stunt is very small, and in fact, basically is just Nancy. She is happy to do it and thinks their desperate reasoning is hilarious).

They break the news to Meg and Claudette and Ace first (after Adam), ask Ace to marry them, and tell Meg she can run post-weddding/reception music however she wants, except the songs for a couples dance & parent dances. She is /thrilled/. Claudette is very happy and cries. They call up Quentin & Nea to add to the conversation and Jake says Nea and Meg and Susie are in charge of setting up the wedding because he knows they’re gonna fight him for the role anyway, but they have to throw whatever they can together with only the stuff they own already and $50, they want only family & the other survivors/their families at the wedding, the service short and sweet, and to have it at the cabin, by the river. Meg loses her mind with indignance and joy together, and goes buckwild. They hit thrift shops for fairy lights and streamers and more.

Everyone is thrilled to be asked, Jane says “about time,” and Philip can’t think of anything to say and gets overwhelmed emotionally and taken off guard to be asked to be a groomsman. It’s sweet. Everyone with fashion sense takes everyone else shopping or through their wardrobes for fun wedding clothes and to at least have accent pieces that match a color theme. (Complimentary blues, yellow/gold, and pinks to the grooms’. More on that). It’s super fun & they make a fashion show of it. There’s no matching in form, just color, which is just the best version anyway there’s really no goddamn reason to spend thousands of bucks on a wedding when you could just have a funky cute good time with the people who love you & no stress.

Jake picks a deep blue hanbok (bc the hottest Jake I’ve ever seen is the one @eggchef did for lunar new year & the note in the tags about an actual hanbok has been banging around in my head ever since), and when they’re going through stuff for Dwight, he comments a pink one is surprisingly nice because it’s not the color he’d expected to think about, and Jake remarks offhand that if they do deep blue and pink they’ll be stealing their girls’ looks, and the second he says that, they both know there’s no other choice now. Dwight gets a light pink suit and a tie that matches Jake’s blue. They’re adorable and both look exceedingly handsome.

The wedding is short and perfect. Ace does a great job, it’s a nice day, and Meg works wonders with her $50 budget and (notably obscenely large) preexisting store of party supplies, + help from her mom who is passing down the legacy of being the best tiny budget party planner on earth. It’s very open, but with near arches and dangling glass and prisims that cast rainbows everywhere, lots of meaningfully chosen for their blessings and symbolism flowers and flower chains from Claudette. It’s a little reminiscent of the birthday decorations Min and Nea did plus the prisims, and that accidentally makes all the survivors super emotional like 1 minute in.

Only the moms get to speak in the wedding (besides Ace and the grooms), and Andrew and Meg and Nea and Quentin and such all gotta save their roasts for the reception. It’s sweet. Ace knows them super well and it shows in the best way. The grooms write their own vows, and both echo their statements in the hatch tunnel without knowing the other was going to do so too. Jake starts with an “I am deeply, unendingly, ridiculously in love with you,” and Dwight brings in a, “I wouldn’t be who I am without you.” They end it with Dwight saying, “Will you still stay with me, now that it’s all over? Through whatever we’re thrown to next?” And Jake replying, “Wherever you go, I’ll always follow.”

I cry.

The reception is a party by the house. It’s just a huge prepared buffet made by the family who can cook, so no one has to sit and wait. Meg starts the music with Cascada’s Evacuate the Dance Floor because she doesn’t “want to see people dragging their feet like a bunch of fuckin weenies, I want asses on that dance floor!” There’s a lot of 90s and early 2000s pop, but also many many classic dance songs. Lots of ABBA. Lots of it. Everyone has great fun. Min, Nea, Susie, and Meg made the playlist, except for a few of the specific dances. Muriel Fairfield’s mother-son dance with Dwight is to Song For Ten by Neil Hannon because he knows she’s a sweet big emotional nerd and it’s the song she wants, and he’s willing to do it, and she sobs and is a mess but also the happiest she’s been since the day she got the call he was alive.

They have literally zero idea where they’re going when they drive off for a honeymoon. They’re like “Uhh so I’ve been looking at our complete and utter lack of wedding structure and planning as a good thing? But we might have overstepped that a little here....”

Dwight drives while Jake searches the web for LGBT safe honeymoon locations because there’s nothing that would ruin a trip more than that not working out, and reads off a list and Dwight is like, “Wait wait holy fuck, I though you meant what US cities or maybe Canada. Switzerland? Do we even have cash for the plane fare somewhere like that?” And Jake just looks at the page silently for a few seconds, shuts the laptop, and without expression says, “...I really hate this, but I’m gonna let myself be a rich boy, just once.”

They take Andrew’s jet to New Zealand (Jake calls him and listens for 2 minutes then just monotone goes “Okay but you owe me for being a dipshit for fifteen years,” and they get the ride). Jake picks a relaxed pace and some scuba diving, some hikes, but no overnight camping. Lots of just seeing the world and holding hands and grinning at how absolutely breathless and shocked Dwight is at every chunk of nature like nothing he’s seen before. They are disgustingly, blissfully happy.

[promethes]

how an idiot like me got into good schools

A quick run-through of my academic history and how I got into good colleges will be below the cut! I’m also including a list of some of the schools I got into for reference. I apologize in advance for how messy this is, but my memory is shitty and I remember random things that I keep throwing in lol. (and for people congratulating me, thank you very much, but I got into all these schools last year lol! so keep in mind I graduated high school in 2019)

If all you came for are the basic stats and you don't want my rambling: I went to a public school GPA: around 4.4 on 4.0 scale (3.9 unweighted) SAT: 1520/1600 APs: 10 (4 3s, 2 4s, 4 5s) Extracurricular: mainly NHS (around 300 volunteering hours), StuCo, Varsity Golf, and Quiz Bowl

EDIT: comments made by the readers who reviewed my application are available here!

First off, I am not an einstein! I am blessed that I pick up on stuff easily and gifted in academics, but I’m nowhere near a genius. For a little backstory, I went to a public school in Michigan for the entirety of my pre-k - 12 education. When I was in the third grade, the district introduced an accelerated program. We took a quasi IQ test and if we tested high enough (I think the threshold was 80%? If I remember correctly I got a 97) we were put in a class that was 2 years ahead in English and Math. We stayed grouped together for the rest of our public schooling, basically a core group of around 20 people. Since we were the first year of the program and our grade was exceptionally gifted for some weird reason, it was a very high achieving group of students, so I’m going to include their stats along with mine for comparison because colleges also factor in your peers when they look at your stats.

I’ll start off with basic stats:

I got a 1520 on the SAT. My grade had around 5 - 10 people achieve over 1500. Some of them had been studying for years, while others (me) did not know that the SAT existed until that year and couldn’t afford any private tutoring and had no patience for the study books from the library. I’m lucky to have an aptitude for the skills they were testing. I did not take any SAT subject tests.

For GPA, I think I ended up with around a 4.4 on a 4.0 scale. I was around 15/350 when it came to class standing, so I was far from the valedictorian. I think our valedictorians got around a 4.6 or 4.7.

I took 10 AP tests. I got a 3 in APUSH, World History, Language and Comp (I fell asleep lol), and Chem (I will get into this class a little later). I got a 4 in Literature (I fell asleep. Again.) and in Psychology. I got a 5 in Calc AB & BC, Comp Sci Principles, and Environmental Science.

AP classes were really pushed in my high school, especially onto my grade, and I don’t like being told what to do lol so I pushed back and took fewer AP classes than most of my peers (valedictorians ended up with maybe 15? It’s crazy) and basically only took classes I was interested in or that I had to take because I had exhausted the rest of the curriculum.

I also dual-enrolled in 2 classes at the local community college since I’d exhausted the curriculum at my high school for things I wanted to do (english and comp sci). I want to make it clear that I never sat down and planned how I was going to maximize my schedule or how I’d take the most advanced classes, I just fell into it since we had already essentially skipped two grades. Most people didn’t dual enroll since they wanted the AP GPA boost.

For extracurriculars, I mainly focused on Quiz Bowl, Golf, NHS (volunteered around 350 hours in 3 years I think) and Student Government. I never had any leadership positions and just kind of fucked around most of the time. Most of my peers held several leadership positions throughout the years and did like a bazillion things. 5 of them even traveled to Europe for some science research thing where they presented their research. I was not that big of a nerd.

In junior year, I stumbled on something called Questbridge and decided to apply because I wanted the money for the scholarship. I became a Questbridge college prep scholar, which then led me to apply for the National College Match. I didn’t rank any binding schools so I didn’t match, but I did apply to several schools with their application. If you are a low-income high achieving student, I highly recommend looking them up. I was the first person in my school to do this program and encouraged my peers to do it too. I think 4 of us were Questbridge scholars.

As you can see, I had good numbers, which probably got me past the first wave of application look throughs. However, I’m fairly confident that what made me stand out was my essays. I always stress this to whoever asks me for advice: do not write a perfect essay, write YOUR essay. I can only imagine how bored those poor people are of reading about someone winning a soccer game or a spelling bee. Add some pizzazz in there. Talk about your flaws and your mistakes and your unique life experiences! 

For example, my personal essay wasn’t even in essay format! I wrote it like journal entries, focusing on my sophomore year when my life was Extra Tumultuous and I was going through homelessness. I did not say I was homeless once in the essay. I just did day by day entries of what my life was like during that time and through that the readers were able to see that I loved to read, that I am fiercely protective of my single-parent family, and they saw how I handled adversity. I want to stress that I’m not encouraging poverty porn at all. I did not write it to make the reader feel bad. I simply relayed what I thought about in a day, focusing on both big and small.

I also wrote about funny things related to academics, partly to explain my transcript and partly to be funny. This is the AP Chem thing. I actually dropped out of it after one term (so about a third of the way through) so I could dual enroll in a class I was interested in instead. My chem teacher HATED that since I was good at chemistry (hate it. Hate that subject so much) and tried to convince me to stay. One of the things he said was “You’ll never be ready for college if you don’t take this class! You wouldn’t even be able to pass the AP test!” so I said bet. dropped the class and signed up for the AP test that same day and showed up almost every day for the rest of the year and dicked around the entire class, taking naps in the back of the lab, sitting on his desk, cracking jokes about whatever he was teaching. I got a 3 on that exam purely out of spite with only half the information I needed. So write about stuff like that. It’s fun.

The fact that I had no guidance in writing the essays was actually really good for me since I just kind of let loose. My UChicago essay read like I was on crack, and they loved it so much that they literally mentioned it during the welcome speech for their little college visit in April.

And don’t sweat over the small stuff! The short answers don’t have to be perfect and mind-blowing, just answer honestly. For the “why Yale” supplemental essay I just ranted about how beautiful their library is for a good 300 words (at some point I said I needed my inhaler because it was that breathtaking. I made a Yale admissions officer read that.) I ranted about Howl’s Moving Castle to Columbia. I told them my favorite magazine was the American Girl ones for their arts and crafts! I have a friend at Columbia who literally sent them a picture of her in a duck costume as a supplement. They loved it. So don’t lose your mind trying to sound worldly and educated. You’re like. 17. Just answer honestly and don’t think too hard about it.

I was also extremely lucky to have a dedicated counselor who sat down for hours with each individual student to write fantastic letters of recommendation. She really made it clear what I had achieved and what challenges I’d faced.

So. tl;dr: I got lucky. Unless your parents donated a couple billion to the school, there are no guarantees. Sometimes you can have the stats and perfect essays and amazing extracurriculars and you can still get rejected because they don’t think you’re a good fit with the school compared to the rest of the applicants. There’s limited space in the student body. I got into schools my valedictorians didn’t get into even though I was academically less than them in every possible way. So let yourself shine through your essays and know you’ll end up in an environment that values the person they saw in those essays.

I got into a lot of schools, and don’t really have a record of all of them, but here are some of the top ones I can remember off the top of my head:

Yale, Columbia, University of Chicago (likely letter), Northwestern, University of Michigan, Northeastern, CWRU, UNC Chapel Hill, and a couple other schools here and there that slip my mind at the moment.

[ddaenggtan]

from eden | myg + jhs (preview)

you've been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can't have. you've accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison.

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

genre/warnings | greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, mild depictions of violence, mentions of blood (well, blood equivalent, bc gods), pining, depictions of abusive parenting (seriously, I don’t go into a ton of detail, but it’s enough, pls don’t read this if that triggers you at all), love triangle (kind of), polyamory, v v smutty, mutual masturbation, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, fingering, dick-riding, double penetration, unprotected sex (gods can't get sti's but u can! Wrap it b4 u tap it!), creampie, everyone hates Zeus but what's new, demeter sucks and is the literal worst

word count | 15.6k | will be cross posted to ao3

[ coming saturday june 15, 8pm est ]

It's dark when you open your eyes. You've spent so long down here, you're used to it, but the shadows always seem to make the air colder than it should be. Though you suppose the land of the dead isn't supposed to be warm.

You stretch and wince at the crick in your spine. Another night sitting at your desk, greek fire burning through the hours so that you can scratch away at the papers in front of you. Your siblings always enjoy doing whatever they want, using mortals and throwing them away however they please, cleaning up after each other whenever they can spare the time.

No one ever seems to think about you, nor do they remember the chaos up top only worsens your constant migraines.

No, instead they start their wars and slaughter their enemies and are absolutely oblivious about the fact that the Meadow is at 80% capacity as it is, with more souls arriving each day. Thanatos did well at his job, as did Charon, and you were always sure to be thankful to them, but you wish, not for the first time, that there was someone - anyone - to help with your work.

Your brothers have the naiads, the winds, and the lesser gods to help them with their oceans and skies. Gods of vengeance and retribution help with war, while the fertility goddesses and the muses aid the lovelorn.

And yet here you are, still alone after all these years. Millenia, you've been stuck down here, forced to live out your days in the cold darkness and manage the dead mortals. You've always been introverted, even before you drew lots with your siblings, but never like this. You've tried to leave, of course; at first making short visits to Olympus or the mortal realm, just to speak to another living soul again, someone else who understands what it's like to be trapped in your own life. It seems like every time you came back, though, the underworld had gotten smaller and smaller, nearly suffocating you in an attempt to keep its claws in your skin. And then, of course, came the curse.

You haven't felt the sun on your skin in nearly a thousand years, and while you've always been one for the shade, you miss it. You miss the smell of the flowers in the temples, you miss the sound of the river as it babbles past, you want to feel the warm summer breeze ruffle your hair as you stand in the middle of a marketplace. You're tired of the Fields, you're bored of walking the streets of Elysium with the weight of their stares at your back, sick of standing at the steps to the Isles and wondering if it is, truly, euphoric and if any mortal would ever find out. You don't wear your sandals around the palace anymore; you don't want to hear the footsteps echo. It's just a reminder that you are, truly, alone.

Even the other deities in the Underworld have stopped calling on you. The aura that surrounds you is enough to wilt most any plant, unnerve most every animal, and the gods are no exception. The only exceptions are Hecate, who makes it her personal mission to bribe you into visiting the Meadow if only for a moment, and Thanatos when he can slip away for longer than a moment to distract you from your work. They rarely succeed, but it's the thought that counts, you suppose.

You muse on this as you walk, bare feet skimming lightly over the soil of the Meadow as you make your way to the Gates. You could probably just shadow-walk, if you wanted, you do enjoy giving your Thanatos a fright, but you figure the walk would do you good. There’s no one to bother you as go, thankfully. The dead wander aimlessly around you. There's no acknowledgment as you pass; there's never any recognition of anything in the Meadow, the price mortals pay for being so utterly inconsequential and mundane.

You smile when you see that your friend is busy, and you give a silent command to Cerberus not to alert the man to your presence. The dog whines a little, but sits back on his haunches, shaking the ground as he does so. You're silent as you move up behind the judge.

"You wanted me to tell you my judgment and I have," Hoseok says firmly. "You could have gone straight to the Asphodel Meadow and existed in relative peace for eternity, and instead you request a hearing, and then have the gall to question my decision?" You grimace slightly; perhaps putting Hoseok in charge of judging the souls was not the best idea, but he has yet to be wrong about someone.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 

When you emerge from the shadows, you settle at the base of your garden tree. The only living thing that would grow down here, the sole reminder of the world above. Its branches show that it should be close to the harvest soon, maybe a month away at the most. You reach up, weaving through the darkness to pluck a pomegranate from the tree. You don't even like pomegranates anymore, you think as you inspect it. Ripe, juicy, and utterly disgusting; the gods' idea of a joke. The thing that brought about your isolation, your solitude, yet it continues to be the only thing that grows in this wasteland.

You laugh bitterly before tossing the fruit up in the air, letting it fly through the shadows to land beside Hoseok, whatever he's doing. He always appreciates your little gifts, the only real thing you can do to show that you aren't cross with him and are glad for the work he does. He's long been stuck here with you, but the fruit doesn't turn to bile on his tongue the way it does yours. Perhaps the willingness he had that first time made a difference.

Please.

You glance around, looking for the voice that suddenly echoes around you. It's soft, a memory of a whisper. It's not rare for you to hear the voices of the dead in your realm, but this is different. This one strikes you to your core, for this…

This one sounds hopeful.

The prayers that make their way to you are never hopeful. They are sad or angry or scared, always filled with tears and regret and more than a little hesitancy, but never do they have any shred of hope in them.

You stand, eyes narrowed as you look through the darkness for whatever soul may be calling to you.

Please. I don't want to go back. Don't let her take me.

Without thinking, you reach into the shadows. The blackness swirls around your fingers, unsure where you're trying to go. You don't know yourself, and you wish you did. You aren't sure why you're doing this; you rarely answer prayers, least of all the ones that don't mention you specifically, but something in this voice calls to you. It resonates in your chest, shakes your very being because you remember that feeling. You remember the way it felt to be free, standing in the sun and clawing at the earth as Gaia dragged you back down to your post, tears mixing with the dirt as you pleaded, begged her not to take you back down there.

With a jerk, you pull the shadows apart, and the ground quakes above you. You watch, anxiety pooling in your gut, and it's only the intensity of your focus that lets you see it: a figure, falling limply through the earth that you've opened. The string of curses you let out would make even Ares blush, and it's with a rush you haven't felt in millennia that you weave the shadows together into a net and toss it upwards. The figure falls into it with ease, shadows wrapping around the body to glide gently downwards until they can deposit the person with ease at the roots of your tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as the darkness recedes, revealing soft mint hair with flowers woven into it, pale green robes that are sliced nearly in half at the back and caked with mud. The man is beautiful and soft and bright, every inch the antithesis to your own black and grey clothes. You hesitate to even look at him, too afraid of dulling that sun-kissed skin with the death you carry on your fingertips.

His brow furrows and he winces, though his eyes remain closed. You blink owlishly before guiding the shadows around him once more; when you're sure he's secure, you pull him along behind you until you reach the only spare room you have in the palace. You situate him on the bed there, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until you can almost pretend he fell asleep there of his own accord. With pursed lips, you assign three of your Bones to watch him; one just inside the door and two outside of it, just in case whatever he was running from attempts to come for him.

You don't want to leave him, but you have work to do, and the land of the dead cannot rule itself.

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Potential (7/11)

Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Ten x Rose University AU

This chapter: ~4200 words, teen (bc Rose is horny)

Notes: This was written for the lovely @thegreenfairy13 as part of the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange.

AO3 | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | epilogue

Rose’s heart thundered as she shut herself into the guest bedroom. Her cheeks were hot and her stomach was in knots. She’d made an utter fool of herself. How on Earth was she supposed to face James again?

She’d thought he had been going in for a kiss, but what if she was mistaken? What if he’d been shifting around and she’d misinterpreted, and in fleeing, she roused James’s suspicions? And what if he had been going in for a kiss? Had he actually meant it, or had the wine lowered his inhibitions?

If he’d only been going in for a kiss because he was drunk, she was glad she’d stopped it. It would break her heart more than it already was if he kissed her then regretted it when he was sober.

But if he had meant to kiss her and wanted to kiss her, she’d rejected him and thus probably dashed any hopes of kissing him in the future.

“Goddammit,” she growled under her breath.

Perhaps it’s for the best, though, she thought to herself, hoping to soothe the hurt, frustration, and mortification coursing through her. Because what if he had meant to kiss her and, for some reason, wanted to embark on some sort of relationship with her. What if they tried it, and it just… didn’t work? What if he broke her heart? Or worse… what if she broke his?

“Goddammit,” she hissed again, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes until bright colors bloomed behind her lids.

She stood pressed to the door for quite some time, listening to the quiet shuffling of James as he moved about the house. After a while, she heard him walk down the hall, then the quiet snick of his bedroom door opening and closing again. She stayed still for another five minutes, just to be safe, before she grabbed her overnight bad and slipped across the hall into the loo to get ready for bed.

Rose slept better than she expected, what with her racing thoughts, and not to mention it being a strange bed in a strange house. James’s scent lingered in the room, mostly coming from the vicinity of the bay window, and it calmed her and soothed her and provided her with pleasant dreams.

She dreamt that she hadn’t fled, and that James wanted her as much as she wanted him, that he loved her as she loved him. She dreamt that he’d held her with more gentleness and tenderness than anyone ever had before as she sat in his lap and kissed him. She could so vividly feel the press of his lips against hers, the clutch of his hands at her back, the texture of his hair in her fingers. She could hear his soft, needy sighs and grunts as he pulled her closer, closer, closer…

When she awoke, her body was flushed with desire and frustration. Then when she remembered what, exactly, had transpired the night before, her heart broke all over again.

Even though it was much earlier than her typical wake-up time, she crept across the hall for a shower and to get ready for the day. Half an hour later, Rose snuck back into the bedroom and packed up everything into her bag again, then made the bed.

She heard clanging coming from the kitchen, and when she walked down the hall, her breath caught at the sight. James, still in his pajamas, was moving around the room, tending to various pans as delicious smells wafted ‘round the room.

She took a selfish moment to observe him and appreciate his figure. His shirt looked incredibly soft and it clung to his chest, giving her a decent enough view of the flexing muscles in his shoulders and back as he worked. It draped down to his hips, where his pajama bottoms rode low enough to tease her with small slivers of skin whenever he raised his arms above his head. His bum was perfectly toned and round, and she bit her lip hard at the memory of her dream-self grabbing it to hold him against her.

A shiver of desire rippled down her spine, leaving her aching inside. She was in a three-year dry spell, with nothing but her own hands and a vibrator to satisfy her physical needs. It was almost unfair how fit he was. She craved the feeling of his hands on her body, and her hands on his. She wanted to touch every inch of his tall, lithe figure. To have his skin pressing against hers. To hold him completely within her and be held by him in return.

“Morning!”

Her cheeks burned with half embarrassment, half arousal. Her core was throbbing with need, and she was annoyed with herself for letting her imagination get the best of her. She prayed he didn’t notice the way she’d been ogling him. Or the lecherous thoughts she’d been entertaining.

“Morning,” she replied, clearing her throat against the husky rasp of her voice.

She stepped into the kitchen cautiously, but there was no sign of awkwardness or discomfort from the night before.

James turned back around to tend to the griddle of pancakes he was making, then to the frying pan of sizzling, popping bacon.

“Can I help with something?” she asked.

“Can you mind the bacon?” he asked. “And take them off whenever they’re to your liking. Do you prefer crispy or squishy bacon?”

Rose made a face. “Definitely crispy. I don’t want my bacon to still be oinking at me whilst I eat it, ta.”

James chuckled, then expertly flipped the array of six pancakes on the griddle.

As Rose cooked the bacon, flipping it around the pan as needed, she watched James out of the corner of her eye. Nothing seemed amiss. Were they just going to pretend that last night hadn’t been the most awkward situation in the world? Well. The last five minutes of it, at least. The rest of the night had been magical, and Rose wanted more than anything for those memories to overshadow any awkwardness that had eventually arisen.

Rose was nearly overwhelmed by the domesticity and casualness of their movements. They worked around each other as though they’d been preparing breakfast together for years. A lump lodged itself in her throat as a deep, crushing yearning overtook her. Jimmy had never helped her make breakfast. Or any meal, for that matter. And if she were being honest, she’d never had a desire to cook anything special for him. But for James… For James, she wanted to spend the rest of her life making breakfast, lunch, and dinner with him.

Firmly ignoring those thoughts, she said, “This all looks delicious.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I love making breakfast. I love breakfast. Most important meal of the day, innit?”

Rose smiled at him, and paused before saying, “I never put much effort into it.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Not even… with Jimmy?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I loved helping my dad make breakfast,” he said softly, gazing intently at the pancakes as he arranged them in a neat stack on a serving plate. “I’ve always been an early riser. My dad eventually became one too when my parents realized I was never going to let them sleep in. My mum was awful with mornings, so it was often just me and Dad. Some mornings, we’d work together and make these big special breakfasts, then go surprise my mum with breakfast in bed.”

Rose’s chest cracked at the sadness in his voice. She reached over and rested her hand at his forearm, but he casually slid his arm away from her. She tried not to let her hurt show, and instead she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” He sighed. “I miss the small things the most, y’know?”

“Yeah. Whenever I think back on Jimmy… obviously he broke my heart, but I fell in love with him for a reason. And there are days when I miss the way things used to be. The small things. But we can’t turn back time, and I think all we can do is try to remember the good things from the past but move on to the good things to come.”

James’s eyes were shiny, and he turned away from her. But she saw his cheeks pulling up in a smile before he said, “That’s very deep and philosophical for seven-thirty in the morning.”

Rose rolled her eyes and poked her finger into his ribs. He squirmed and laughed, and she couldn’t help but laugh with him.

As they finished cooking breakfast, James started heating a kettle then filled his coffee maker with water and grounds. The kitchen was soon filled with the scent of brewing coffee, and Rose appreciated the smell. It seemed to add to the homeyness of the morning.

James pointed her in the direction of the teabags while he prepared his own mug of coffee.

“Not adding ten scoops of sugar?” Rose teased when she saw him add creamer and nothing else to his coffee.

“Nah. It’s flavored cream—hazelnut. I love hazelnut cream—and it’s quite sweet on its own. Have a taste.”

Rose ran her finger across the lip of the bottle, where a drop was slowly running down the side, and sucked the white liquid off her fingertip.

The taste was sickly sweet. “Blech!”

James burst out laughing, and took the bottle from her.

“See?” he said with a grin. “Plenty sweet enough for me.”

“To each their own,” she muttered, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth to dispel the taste.

He stuck his tongue out at her, then went to a cabinet for two plates.

Moments later, they were seated on opposite sides of the kitchen table, leisurely enjoying their breakfast. They didn’t talk much, but the quiet was comfortable. Rose had to concentrate on keeping her feet firmly planted on the floor by her chair rather than sprawled closer to his like she wanted. It was as though her body was drawn to him like magnets. She wanted to constantly be close to him, or touching him.

This is ridiculous, she scolded herself. Utterly ridiculous. Keep it in your pants, Rose.

Thankfully, James seemed utterly oblivious to her and her lustful thoughts.

“Where are Pippin and Merry?” Rose blurted out, trying to give herself something to focus on that wasn’t James.

“I shut them in my room,” he answered. “I put their food bowls in there. They have awful table manners, as I said last night.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she said.

“Not until Pippin ate your entire plate of pancakes,” James said, rolling his eyes. “And got himself sticky with syrup. Nope. Anytime I’m eating something messy, I shut him away so I don’t have to give him a bath. One time I left pancakes unattended to save Merry from Gollum, and I came back to see Pippin covered in syrup, with half my stack of pancakes on the floor. The idiot decided he wanted the middle one. He scratched the hell out of my arms when I went to bathe him.”

Rose laughed at the picture, even as James pouted.

“Have you no sympathy, Rose Tyler?” he squawked.

“Hmm, not really,” she said, sticking her tongue out as she smiled.

He blew a raspberry at her, then took a swig from his steaming mug of coffee.

As though the cat realized he was being talked about, a rather pathetic meow came from down the hallway.

“Poor thing,” Rose cooed. Since they were both done eating, she asked, “Can I let them out?”

James nodded, and she moved down the hall to the crying cat. He was just starting to scratch at the door when she opened it.

Pippin screamed happily at her and ran into her legs, rubbing himself against her. Merry was lounging on James’s unmade bed, but he gave a soft chirp of acknowledgement.

Rose selfishly took a moment to observe the bedroom. It was very… James. It was sparsely decorated, but filled with furniture. Two walls were completely lined with bookcases, with a desk and dresser shoved along another wall. His queen-sized bed had only two pillows on it, and his nightstand had a pile of four books, a lamp, and a box of tissues.

It smelled so much like him that her stomach panged.

She forced herself out of the room, and kept the door open behind her. Pippin was still circling her feet, but trotted along beside her as she made her way down the hall. His footfalls created little tapping sounds, and his meows wavered in time with the beats.

James was still sitting at the table when she returned, but the plates had been removed.

Pippin leaped onto the table and headbutted James. Rose’s heart melted when James nudged his nose into the cat’s forehead, then pressed a kiss to it.

“Hiya, bud,” he murmured. “Want a pancake?”

Rose then saw that James had ripped up small pieces of a pancake and placed them on a napkin.

Pippin noticed them after a moment, and went directly towards them, scarfing them down as though he hadn’t been fed that morning.

A half hour later, after James showered and Rose made sure she packed everything she’d brought, James drove to Rose’s flat so she could grab her school bag, then he took them into the university.

“I wonder if Professor Young will have graded our exams yet,” James mused as they walked towards the science building.

Rose stumbled a step. “Oh, God. I’d completely forgotten we took an exam.”

Her brain whirred frantically as she was choked with anxiety at the prospect of getting a grade back. She remembered the panic of taking that exam—had it only been two days ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed since then—and of not having enough time to finish it.

Rose’s worries were temporarily soothed when the professor started the class by saying the exams hadn’t been graded yet, but they would get them back on Friday. At least she could ignore her fears for another two days.

Rose took full advantage of her blissful ignorance, and used the post-exam lull to relax and not think about school. All of her classes seemed to have lightened up, and it was a relief to not be completely swamped with work and studying.

But inevitably, Friday arrived.

“With the few remaining minutes of class,” the professor said at the end of the lecture period, “I’ll hand back your exams. Come up and tell me your last name.”

Rose’s stomach coiled with dread. She put away her notes and shrugged on her jacket before she and James joined the mass of students surrounding their professor.

It took a few minutes before they reached the front of the queue, but finally they each approached the professor, gave their last name, and were handed the exam. Rose mangled it into a rolled-up rod as she ducked away from the crowd of people, James close on her heels as they exited the lecture hall.

“Well?” he asked expectantly, jutting his chin towards her exam.

“I dunno. Haven’t looked,” she admitted.

He furrowed his brows.

“I don’t think it went well,” she sighed.

“Well, you won’t know unless you look,” he reasoned.

She gritted her teeth. He couldn’t possibly understand what she was feeling. He’d never had to endure the nauseating terror of having his failure and stupidity scribbled in red ink across a page. She doubted he’d ever failed anything in his life.

Though she knew he didn’t mean to, that he was only trying to help, she couldn’t help but feel condescended to.

She breathed in deeply as she unraveled her exam, then the air left her lungs in a sharp whoosh as she beheld the circled 59%.

Her ears were ringing and tears burned behind her eyes. All that time—all that effort—and she’d still failed.

“That’s a great improvement over your first—”

“Shut up,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut even as tears began to leak from behind her lids. “Just… shut up.”

She was numb and tingling all over, her body too hot and too cold at the same time, and she wondered if she was going to vomit. Or pass out.

A warm, familiar hand rested on her lower back, then James’s voice was in her ear. “Follow me.”

Rose sniffed hard and opened her eyes to see other students in their class looking at her sympathetically. The sight made more tears well up in her eyes, so she dropped her head to watch the tiles of the floor go by as James guided her down the corridor.

Her chest ached with disappointment and sorrow as she followed James to the single-person loo. He locked the door behind them, then she was instantly in his arms. When her front pressed to his and his hand went up to cradle the back of her head, she lost all semblance of control.

Loud, wheezing sobs ripped up her throat until she was full-on ugly-crying into his coat. He held her tightly, not saying anything. Instead, he stroked long, soothing lines up and down her back.

When the worst had passed, Rose pulled away from him and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” she whimpered.

“No, you’re not,” he said gently.

“Fifty-nine percent,” she said scathingly, dropping her hands from her face to glare at him.

“Chemistry isn’t your strong suit,” he said with a shrug. “But that doesn’t mean you’re stupid, Rose.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, moving to the sink to wash her mascara off her hands and cheeks. She really needed to avoid makeup on days when she was due to get a chemistry grade back.

“Why do you talk down about yourself?” Rose looked at James through the mirror. He was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest—the picture of relaxed. But there was a tightness to his face and body that belied his nonchalance. “Why call yourself stupid?”

“Because I am,” she snapped.

Anger flashed across his face.

“You’re doing it again. Why are you tying your worth and perceived intelligence to one single subject?”

Rose didn’t bother to reply, and instead she grabbed a handful of scratchy paper towels to scrub her face clean.

“It’s not healthy to expect perfection of yourself,” James continued. “Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, things that they’re good and bad at. You can’t be perfect at everything.”

“You are,” she muttered under her breath.

He heard it, though. “Have you seen me attempt to draw? Blimey, I think a five-year-old has better skill than me.”

In spite of herself, Rose snorted.

“Was that a smile?”

She pursed her lips.

“No.”

“That was a smile,” he said in a sing-song voice. “You smiled.”

“No, I didn’t.” But she felt the way her lips were curled up at the ends. It slipped, though, when she remembered what they were originally discussing. “Doesn’t matter if you’re not good at drawing. You’re amazing at so many other things.”

“So are you,” he countered.

“Not the important stuff.”

He frowned. “Who says drawing’s not important?”

She shrugged, but James’s face was expectant.

Rose heaved a huge sigh and admitted, “I told Jimmy I wanted to go back to school for art. He laughed. Told me if I was to go back to school, I should go for something real. Something useful.” Her heart broke all over again as she remembered his scoffed, condescending words. “Mum said something similar, too, when I told her my major.”

Rose as staring resolutely at the sink, but from her peripheral view of the mirror, she saw James approach.

“Jimmy is an absolute wanker,” he said, his voice sounding strangled. “And so’s your mum. Er… no offense. Well. Sort of offense. I mean… the most respectful offense…”

Rose giggled through her renewed tears, and she said, “My mum… has a very grim view of the world. She and I don’t see eye to eye on many things. S’one of the reasons I came to America.”

“Don’t listen to them.” His hand landed on her shoulder, tugging. After a moment, she spun around, but kept her gaze down at his feet. There was a piece of dead leaf clinging to one of his shoelaces; she wanted to reach down and pick it off. But his hand went under her jaw, and gently tilted her head back. His face was pinched with a fierceness she didn’t quite understand. “Don’t you listen to them, Rose. Okay? You are incredible. You are so smart in ways that I can’t begin to comprehend. So what if you’re rubbish at maths and chemistry. You create beauty in this world, and that’s a very important thing. Without people like you, this world would be a very ugly, boring old place to be. Do not compare yourself to anybody else, because everybody is different. Just be the very best version of yourself that you can be, because I lo- I rather enjoy the Rose Tyler I’ve befriended.”

Rose couldn’t help the small, tentative smile that spread across her face.

She moved away from him then to splash cold water on her heated cheeks. Her hands went numb after the third rinse, but at least her face wasn’t uncomfortably hot anymore, and the cold water soothed her aching eyes.

When she’d dried her face, she turned and saw James had his iPad out.

“Everything isn’t as hopeless as you think it is,” he said, stepping up beside her. He had an Excel spreadsheet open, and Rose realized it was the grade calculator he’d made for her.

“You’ve kept it updated?” she said, surprised.

His cheeks went a little pink. He stared at the iPad screen and said, “Well, you know me. Maths geek. Can’t help it. Anyway, look. You’re doing amazingly on your homework and labs. Much better than my suggested ninety-percent. So really, you only need to do a tiny bit better on exam three and the final exam to get a passing grade.”

Rose sighed. How much harder would she have to work in order to do better on the next exam and the final?

But despite that, she was comforted by the numbers James was showing to her. If she could scrape together a sixty-seven percent on the next exam as well as on the final, she would just manage a C in the class. Assuming she continued to get near-perfect scores on her homework and labs, and didn’t utterly fail the next quiz in the class.

Slowly a glimmer of hope rose up inside of her, eating away the depression and self-loathing that had overtaken her minutes ago.

“Thanks, James,” she whispered, near-tears again. But not tears of sorrow and frustration, but of relief and thankfulness.

He smiled at her, then snapped the cover over his iPad shut and stuffed it into his bag.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah.” She gnawed at her lip, then reached out to touch his upper arm. “Thank you. You’re an amazing friend.”

His smile looked a little stiff, showing too much teeth even though it didn’t crinkle his eyes. But he then turned and plucked up her backpack from the floor and handed it to her.

She slung it over her shoulder, then opened the door to the loo.

“What in God’s name were you two doing in there?!”

Rose jumped as she and James exited the loo only to see one of the chemistry professors walking down the corridor.

“Oh! It’s… erm… well… It’s not what it looks like!” James stammered, his cheeks going scarlet. “Really! Promise! We weren’t doing anything!”

The professor looked dubiously at the two of them, then his gaze landed on Rose. He must have seen her red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks, because his expression hardened and became frosty.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Rose croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yeah. Wasn’t feeling well is all. James helped me to the loo.”

The professor still wasn’t convinced, and he continued glaring at James, who squirmed in discomfort.

“Do you need me to call someone, miss?” he asked gently.

Rose shook her head. “Seriously. I’m fine. Chemistry grade came back as shit is all.”

A flash of understanding crossed the man’s face. Before he could say anything else, James took her hand and slowly began backing down the hall.

“Thanks for your concern,” James said, then he turned and rested his hand on Rose’s lower back as he ushered her outside.

When the doors clicked shut behind them, Rose burst into peals of laughter that bent her over and had her clutching her sides.

“Oh, my God,” she wheezed.

“Oh, my God,” James muttered, his face still bright pink. “I can’t believe that just happened. He’s probably going to tell the entire faculty I’m a licentious pervert and to watch out for me taking unsuspecting girls into the loo.”

Tears of laughter streamed down Rose’s face, even as she felt a small pang of pity for James.

“Oh well,” he sighed. Rose felt his eyes on her as she attempted to compose herself. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“Never,” she promised, grinning.

He smiled softly at her, then said, “Wanna grab a coffee? Er. Or tea?”

Rose nodded, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and followed him to the dining hall.

[byebyechloe]

So I’ve been contemplating writing this for awhile...

about.... let’s see, I need to do the math.

we broke up January 15th.

Then we talked until, what would you say? the third Monday of February?

Yes, February 18th. I remember that night well. It shook me to the core, that's when our break up... really began to be our break. up. 

but then let me throw this at you. this low low low LOW number.

18 days. (That’s how many days you had me blocked. I’m assuming... if not less. I accidentally came up on that realization one day. So who knows.)

I took the ballsy choice of adding you back on snap, being subtle. you added me back the same night, and thats when it all began again. 

well... kinda, took us until, when? probably like 2 Fridays later? I slid into your texts to tell you about a artist I liked and thought you’d vibe too. Ironically, you already fucked with him too. 

Then that next weekend I gave you the entire snapchat tour of the 2nd Ben Rector concert we didn't attend together, but this one we had planned too...

and then I think... the next Friday is when I took a huge risk on my mental health and dropped sam off at Julies and off I was! back to the place in the middle of the damn trees, just to spend a night with you again, that I thought would just be a random hook up, and then we’d just let it all go again. but no.

I left that bed with plans to be back the next weekend, and then plans to hangout when you moved home for the “short” time you had planned before “moving away back east”, that ended up being an entire summer, and you ended up being A LOT closer than you planned when you did finally move away again in October. But this moving away didn’t happen of course, until after another big “I'm sick of you!” argument from us both (after an ironically, perfect Saturday with you. I still think about that night. so cute and romantic in the weirdest, not romantic way.) and then we talked on and off for another time. this was a little longer than 18 days, but wasn’t longer than 3 weeks. And you were back around, and I was stronger alone, but so was my strong belief in the damn signs I've been getting the last fucking YEAR of us doing this ~thing~ of ours from the big guy up there (imagine me pointing, yanno me, i’m an awkward bitch who points, bet you can imagine my torn up nails too. you always remind me to stop biting them. thanks for that.)

Oh.. yeah, hey, happy 1 year of crossing paths (again, if you count the years we didn’t really /know/ each other, but were in the same friend circle... somehow. idk.) and taking away my right to say “i’ve never fallen inlove like for real for real!” (my words, not society’s.) 

But yeah, when I sit here and type, I realize I won’t get as much out as I will whenever you give me the chance to say it all out loud (if you could be /so/ kind), but let me get to my favorite part of the last 365 days.

I’ll start with the fact that... that night.... I almost cancelled on you 3 fucking times. This was before I caught on to God’s lessons that he embedded in our encounter and friendship. Now I see this was his small beginning and it was with the fact that we both come from two different lives and backgrounds, that being symbolized by the fact that I usually eat dinner at like... 5 pm. and you are a more 7 pm guy. By 6:30 I was not only hangry, but beginning to let my anxiety and trust issues from my past start to creep in. “He is really gonna pull this? after 3 weeks of us talking? AND its the day before my birthday? how rude.” I thought. I even told my friends twice I wanted to drop the date, and they both said to do what made me happy. But yanno what I did that I never do? especially in that season of life I was in? (this was “fuck guys, none of them deserve me anyway) phase, by the way. I’m still in it, but you’re an exception.)

I just said... “no. I’ll give him 10 more minutes”.... three times. But yanno what?

It was the best decision I ever fucking made in my ENTIRE life. (other than that one time we... yanno... had sex for (my) the first time (ours together). Sorry but I mean you saw this coming right?) 

You kept me talking and laughing from the moment I walked out of my front door that night... all the way until, well, that night we broke up in January. Yet, I think you still made me giggle a few times before we finally hung the 3 hour phone call up. 

OH! Our first date was November 15th, 2018. Crazy... we broke up literally... 2 months after our first date. That’s super weird. This isn’t the first time that dates have aligned like that in my life. It’s whatever, ANYWAY. 

Back to the story! So. Yeah. Best night of my life. seriously. Going out with you that night was the best decision I ever made. It was so fun and sweet and carefree and I was so happy. 

Bro-- you make me /SO/ fucking happy.

 Even after all the shit we’ve gone through, I’d still pick you over any guy on this damn planet, and that says a lot about me considering you’re very deep into your “bachelor szn” of life right now. Which I’m happy af for you for, that is a sick time of life, and you deserve to live it. I just appreciate you keeping me around for the nights you want someone to hold and kiss and watch movies with. (the dinner was an added bonus, and very sexy. so keep it up for me pls. I promise I will reciprocate my thanks.)

But anyway. The 1st date, it was the night I think God sealed the deal of the whole “you’re gonna fall inlove with this guy when y'all kiss” thing. I never really believed in that shit, partly bc I hated hallmark movies and hated the entire feeling of love after what I thought I knew from my last big relationship before you, but I was so wrong.

I still think about our first kiss a lot, and I hate to admit that because I am not that OOZY with love and emotions. But I do. And I never realized that was the night I fell in love with you, I realized that the last night you and I stayed at Julie and Camden’s... yanno before you met some new girl and started seeing her like 3-4 nights a week? yeah same. I wasn’t a complete mess though, I worked on school and fell in love with the art of teaching, so that was cool. But yeah. That night. You and I literally had so many nights like it this summer, but, yet, THAT night is when I was trying to fall asleep and the memory of our first date was like “yo what up bitch time to relive this day again.”

and I did. and it was amazing. and then when it got to that kissing part (Sam was so annoyed by us, I think. I don’t really remember. it was THAT good of a kiss my dude.) I really realized that is when I began to believe in the fact that a man could possibly love me, or care for me, or just like me again. I was so happy. 

I have learned so many lessons from this whole 365 days (and counting) experience. Let me explain.

- be patient. (THIS was the biggest and hardest one, and its ongoing. I want to say I’m doing better.) I've had to really stop myself from getting upset and remind myself, “God wouldn’t keep him around in my life like this if he didn’t have a reason too.” He’d give me all the signs to leave. I’m not too blind to look at both sides, I just see more promise in the good side than to be dramatic and listen to the bad side. I see dedication and hard work on the good side. 

- be trusting. (Now I know you get me when I say, trust issues take up your whole damn life. Maybe not as much anymore because we both are/have gone through the stage of life where you learn “people only take as much as you give. So give a little at a time.” which is what your doing now, and is what I learned to start doing... then I met you and ended up dumping all my trust into you. but not in the way you may think, it has taken this entire year for me too. so you’re welcome). I have really started seeing how much I trust you, and how much you deserve it. But I won’t lie and say there aren’t times you don’t deserve me, and I KNOW that. But I refrain from screaming it at you, because.... what is that going to help at this point? The time isn’t here yet, if it ever comes, but if it does, you’ll know I’ve waited to say it, followed up with the whole hearted reason I never let it be why I gave up, because I never will give up on you.*

* When you and I started dating (11...24...18.... yeah. you get why I put it in numbers, right?) You told me in text that night to not give up on you, because you’re still young and still learning. I said I understood and wouldn’t, because you made me (and still do) the happiest girl on this earth. no cap, boo. You also said it and say it almost every time you are drunk and next to me in bed. “Don’t give up on me baby. please.” and my most favorite time, which was Christmas, “Don’t give up on me baby and I swear, I’m going to make our life together so damn great.” and yanno? I still believe it. and Always will. (scouts honor, boo.)

- Be understanding. (This one is gonna get deep.) So, I know, most movies will show you a girl who is a friend of the girl in love, or the guy who is the best best friend of the guy who is also in love tell one of the two that they need to just man up and say how they feel to the other one, even if that other one doesn’t want to believe it. Or better yet, tell the person THEY don't see how inlove they are with a person. Now I won’t sit here and act like I haven’t wished I could come across you with the desire in my heart to just tell you “don’t you see how fucking perfect we are for eachother?” because thats not realistic. That would of pushed me away from any man (and actually has before) who said it to me. SO WHY would I ever try to make someone push you to believe it? Let alone myself? You will realize it yourself someday, or maybe a friend will notice it and mention it to you, but I won’t ever be the one to tell you I think you are dumb for not seeing our potential. I’m fine with waiting until you figure it out. As far behind as you are in the feelings and independence stage in life... emotionally... I am in the independence and living stage... physically. We just did things backwards. 

This is getting long (if it wasn’t a surprise) but...

I love you, boo. I always will, and apparently have since the first night you took me to chilis. So let’s just say this has been a wild year, but I can’t wait for the rest of the others. 

Have fun with whatever/whoever you’re doing, Hope to see ya soon and get my face wash back that I “forgot” two weeks ago.

love, 

your future wifey, hehe. ;)

jk.

love always, Chloe. (or when you like to make me mad, Coco.)

[shadowatching]

Hey love! I’m so happy to see a new blog and I can feel that you’re already a favorite ;). Ok so, I’m a 5’10 Mexican girl with a sharp tongue. I have a big heart and always help where I can. I’m tough when I need to be and I don’t let people walk over me, choosing to call them out loud af. Some of my hobbies are reading, having adventures with my friends, and learning about history. Can I have this be with s76? (Or anyone who you think would fit me bc tbh idk how to match myself) thank you!!

                  HOW WOULD THEY BREAK YOU? ( CLOSED )  -  13 / 21

Having adventures with your friends? Are you guys like, slaying dragons? Fighting crime? Getting lost on the subway system in the rough part of town?

I guess the only important question here is: can I come with? I want to have adventures.

Rating: Sa/fe for W/ork

Warnings:  Extreme social isolation, emotional abuse, nonconsensual use of drugs, needles/medical equipment, implied drug dependency, military themes, physical exertion, use of a shock collar. Jack is a little too methodical and efficient with this shit, but if we’re being honest that’s really not surprising.

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SOLDIER 76:

Why he’d work well with you: (because I do think he would!)

- Part of what draws him to you is your earnest, empathetic heart. Normally that soft, giving attitude would be found on someone sensitive and understated, but you’re a hell of a far cry from a pushover. You stand up for yourself (and even others) without a second thought, and he can’t shake his fascination with that easy, natural strength.

- Perhaps, in some ways, you remind him of who he used to be.

- Taming you will be one of the greater challenges he’s faced in life, but he didn’t survive the Enhancement Program for lack of will and fortitude. He overcame the serum, he overcame the collapse of Overwatch, and he’ll overcome you, too.

- There may be some bloodshed between the two of you, in that you are so like Gabriel that sometimes he just loses it. But every time you hold your own, he remembers why he had to have you.

- Although your thirst for mental stimulation, for information, may run you into some trouble with 76, it also makes you quite adept at solving the puzzle that is him. Once you get a handle on his personality, his moods, and, maybe if you play your cards right, his history-- you’ll find yourself equipped not only to handle him, but to hold your own as well.

- If all ends well, the two of you will be on the same level, able to keep each other engaged and challenged.

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How he’d break you:

- In many ways, your life begins a lot like you’ve entered a bootcamp you definitely did not enlist for.

- For the first few weeks, you don’t even see your captor. An alarm blares shrill and angry in your eardrums at fuck o’clock in the morning (or at least, you assume it is. there’s no natural light to indicate time), and a bodiless voice pushes you through a series of menial, exhausting physical tasks.

- The handy little collar secured around your neck ensures that it’s in your best interest to obey. On days you’re particularly unruly or rebellious, the labor drags on for hours longer than usual. When dinner comes through the little slot in the door that’s built like it’d be the last thing standing in a nuclear fallout, it’s a gray, tasteless gruel.

- You shiver through the night on a cheap, scratchy cot with a thin, standard-issue infantry blanket, and you start to wonder if you actually have somehow ended up in a military prison.

- The voice is not sympathetic to your questions, and is overall unresponsive. Your only indication of being watched by a real human being, is the jarring zap your collar delivers when you misbehave.

- And then, after so long that you’re sure your missing persons posters have begun to peel off their walls and bulletin boards, hope lost and then forgotten-- your meals begin to improve. Less meatloaf and veggie loaf and other loafed atrocities, and more meals that have flavor. Meals that leave you feeling full and sated.

- After one particularly filling dinner, you feel groggy. Unbalanced, nauseous, weak in the knees. Distantly, you think you should have known better than to trust this new development.

- You wake up to a soft bed and a warm body spooning you from behind. When you think to fight, jerking away and thrashing, there’s a deep sigh and a sleepy grumble from the stranger. You recognize that voice, dread filling you to the core, and before you can do much more than scramble to your feet, he has you wrestled down to the floor with the cap of a syringe in his teeth and a needle in your shoulder.

- This time whatever he gives you isn’t strong enough to knock you out, but you can’t do much more than feebly stumble towards any door you can find. They’re always locked, but you try and try until large, firm hands steer you away. The world is a hazy mess, pieces of memory constantly shifting like snapshots of a dream.

- You’re certain no one is looking for you anymore, and no matter how much you hate him, how much you loathe him, the man that haunts you in this nightmare is the only human you’ve seen in months. Maybe longer.

- He holds you close when you can’t fight him, rubs gentle hands over your back and shoulders and lets his simple touch remind you how bone-achingly lonely you are. 

- When he starts to ease you off the sedatives, it doesn’t take long for you to notice. Suddenly the world isn’t cloudy, everything is so crisp and clear and loud and bright, and half of you wants to run until your legs give out while the other half wants to curl back up underneath that blanket of soothing, muffled fog.

- He tells you it’s going to be alright, you just have to adjust to things normally again. Says you might be in withdrawal, but you’ll get through it. Both of you. 

-  Paltry resistances wrack the tenuous relationship he’s forming with you, but whenever you fall asleep on the bathroom floor, exhausted from crying and from feeling everything and nothing at all, you wake up the same as you did that first morning.

- Privileges come slow and steady, a book here and a movie there. Things to do while he’s gone. He even tolerates some pushback, will entertain an argument, even a fight or a struggle. Although he’s wearing you down hard and mercilessly, he does have fun when that sharp-tongued personality begins to show itself once more.

- However, stepping over the line once or twice too many times has you waking on a rickety cot in a sealed room, familiar band around your neck. It doesn’t matter when you sob or beg or rock on your heels for hours, curled in a ball on the floor. You serve your sentence in his hellish bootcamp, for however long his whims have decided. You never know how long it will be, only that you have no choice but to endure until he’s satisfied.

- And when you return to waking in that familiar bed, comfortable and warm and finally not alone, you begin to wonder if resistance is worth the price- or if this is really so bad, after all.