#also that last paragraph just came to me in a vision while i was typing up the rest of this i hope it's not too far of a reach

[i-am-not-a-who-i-am-a-what]

so about the header that proceeded today's statement:

Viability as agent: Low

Viability as subject: None

Viability as catalyst: Medium

i didn't know what to think of this part of the entry at first, but the longer the statement went on... was the institute in this universe trying to manufacture avatars?

the dice can't do anything without someone to use them, they can't be an "agent" by themselves, but might be capable of manipulation, so in that aspect their viability is "low."

the dice could be a "subject" in the sense that they could use further studying, but the statement itself was a very thorough investigation of their workings, so in that aspect their viability is "none."

the dice seem to influence their holder to roll them, or at least find more victims to roll them, and could therefore be described as a "catalyst" for someone's becoming. but, as seen in the statement, their owner can give the dice to someone else (albeit not without consequences), so in that aspect their viability is only "medium."

so what about the line following all this, what does "Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment applicability assessment" mean? if we go by this interpretation, i'd say it could mean the institute wanted to find a way to make the dice even more potent as an artifact, maybe even remove that pesky ability for their owner to reject them.

imho all of this this brings a whole new level of context to the events of episode seven, of unknown violent agents going after an influx of objects that seemed straight out of artifact storage. was that the nature of the titular "magnus protocol" first mentioned in episode four, the one that involved the starkwall group? containing or destroying potential artifacts before the institute could get their hands on them?

it also makes their "gifted kids program," and sam's link to it as one of the kids being studied, all the more horrifying to think about. was it not just avatars in general they were after, but child avatars specifically? no wonder gertrude got so defensive over the possibility of sam and celia dragging gerry back into the institute's business last episode, we all picked up on her clearly knowing more than she's letting on but now we might know the shape of that information a bit better.

and one final bit of food for thought... this statement had a lot of familiar themes, didn't it? free will or the illusion of it, gambling and not-so-random chance, the statement giver being done in by one final hit from what feels like a bit of an addition... all hallmarks of a certain mother of puppets. doesn't it seem fitting that "chester" would use this kind of statement to warn sam about what harm pursuing the magnus institute could bring to him, considering the one his voice might draw from? and doesn't it seem so painfully ironic that his warning seems to have only driven sam further into that web?

[lovely-ateez]

Vampire Shift~

ꕥPosted: 5/23/21

ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut, Angst, College!au, Horror!au

ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Vampire!Jongho (feat Wooyoung and Minho from skz)

ꕥWord Count: ~5.9k (whoops)

ꕥWarnings: Horror themes, Language, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex, Mentions of blood and blood sucking (please lmk if I missed anything)

ꕥTag List: @cappujinho @bobateastay

ꕥA/N: I hope you all don’t a more spooky concept! Halloween is my favorite holiday and even though its May, it’s always spooky season to me lolol. Also! Feel free to listen to Vampire Shift by All Time Low while reading this (it’s only on YouTube I cry) since this is inspired by the song :)

It was a terrible idea, really, to work the night shift at a gas station alone. Even more so when you’re a young woman whose only defense is the pepper spray on her key chain and 911 on speed dial. Alas, college bills don’t pay themselves and every spare opportunity to get cash was one I had to take.

The digital clock sitting on the counter next to me briefly flashed, indicating another hour had gone by. It was currently four a.m. and it was safe to say I was losing my mind. I’d worked for five hours now, and not a customer had come in. That was the only advantage, really. So long as no one was around my boss let me finish any assignments I had, which came in handy on more than one occasion.

I was only six paragraphs into a five page report and had been staring at my laptop screen for over an hour, feeling beyond brain dead. I was assigned the topic of financial statements and country trade deficits, and wanted to cry every minute I thought about it. I was half convinced to pay someone to write the report for me.

The ringing of a bell indicated a customer opening the door and I closed my laptop to peer around the counter, ready to greet whoever entered. The first man to catch my attention was wearing sunglasses which fazed me, but I tried not to stare. The man that followed had black hair with blond underneath, a combination that I strangely liked. Both men were donned in all back, their faces stoic. They were attractive, I had to admit, but neither were my type.

And then, the last man entered. He looked over to me as he walked through the door, giving me a nod and a slight smile. His slicked back black hair matched his black ripped jeans and highlighted his red leather jacket. He was so handsome he looked like he jumped out of a magazine and I had to suppress a ‘wow’. A string of butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I did my best to ignore them, not even knowing his name.

The three of them wandered through the aisles until I could no longer see them, and I scolded myself for being so thrown off that I forgot say any form of a greeting. I sighed and turned my attention back to my laptop, opening it and blankly staring at the screen. My ears perked when I heard the men’s hushed voices.

“Y’oughta get that girl’s number. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“Yeah, Jongho. She’s pretty cute. If you don’t get her number you know I will.”

“Shut up.” One of the men, Jongho apparently, responded with a laugh, “Let’s just get some snacks, okay? It’s gonna be a long night. Also I’m buying tonight so get whatever.”

A smile crept on my face and I looked down, fiddling with my thumbs.

They think I’m cute. Maybe Jongho’s the one in red?

I heard the bell ring once more and a girl entered who I vaguely remembered from high school. She was popular but for good reason, probably being one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Our circle of friends overlapped slightly so I’d spent a fair amount of time with her. She was smart as a whip and gorgeous all the same, which seemed to stay with her. She looked bright, long red hair falling around her face, freckles still prominent as ever.

We met eyes and she smiled, “Hey y/n!”

I smiled and waved, “Hey Annabelle. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Good! I got into my dream college and it’s been great, although I’ve had to take some pretty hard classes.” She giggled, walking towards me. It’s honestly not too far from here. You go to Westgate University, right?”

I nodded and I put my laptop aside. She spoke again, genuinely excited for me, “That’s awesome! Congrats!”

“Thanks,” I smiled, “I’m taking it you got into Orholt?”

“I did! I was really-”

One of the men that entered earlier—the one still wearing sunglasses—shouted the redhead’s name and caught her attention, “Hey Anna do you want a Redbull or a Five Hour Energy?”

“Redbull! I’m not a monster.” She laughed.

The man nodded and walked toward us with several drinks and snacks in his hands.

“Oh! I want to introduce you to my boyfriend!” Annabelle turned to the man still wearing sunglasses and reached for his arm, “This is Minho. I met him at Orholt.”

Minho gave me a slight nod as I introduced myself and he placed the food and drinks on the counter. I began to scan the items, the mindless routine that I was used to by now. The loud sound of laughter made me look up, seeing the two other men approach us and place their snacks down as well. I watched them long enough to notice the way two-tone—my new affectionate name for the man with blond and black hair, I decided—shamelessly checked me out, a cocky smile on his face when I caught him. I just let out a small laugh before resuming my task, watching his confused reaction in my peripheral vision.

“Oh my god I totally forgot to introduce you to my friends.” Annabelle giggled and pointed to two-tone, “This is Wooyoung.”

“Hiya, Wooyoung.” I said with a confident smile, enjoying the way he still had a slightly confused look on his face.

“And this,” Annabelle nodded towards the man in red, “This is Jongho. Both him and Wooyoung go to Orholt, too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho. I’m y/n.”

“Very nice to meet you.” The man smiled before he sent me a wink.

I had never been a particularly shy person, but as he did so my eyes darted down as I felt my face flush. I didn’t notice the gears turning in Annabelle’s head as she put the pieces together.

I placed the final items in the bag, raising my head as Annabelle addressed me,  “You know I’m having a bonfire tomorrow night at my place and you should totally come!”

I stopped to think, first trying to remember if I worked the next day, then wondering if I was willing to go the bonfire when I realized I didn’t have to.

She sensed my hesitancy and her face fell, “Aw do you work tomorrow night? It’s a Saturday!”

“Oh no, I don’t. I...” I stopped to think for a minute. Although I likely didn’t know anyone else who would be there, I was familiar with Annabelle’s house, which brought me a bit of comfort, “Are all of you going?”

Annabelle gave a knowing smile, “Yes. All of us will be here.”

I nodded, accepting the credit card Jongho gave me, quickly after handing them the bags, and returning his card, “I’ll go.”

“Yay! We’ve gotta head out but I’ll send you the details. You’ve still got the same number, right?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Alrighty! I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

Annabelle left with a wave, her boyfriend on her arm and Wooyoung behind her. To my surprise, Jongho didn’t leave with them, the cocky look on his face all but telling me why he stayed.

I looked at him with wide eyes, playing innocent. “Can I help you?”

He placed an arm on the counter, his dark eyes seeming to put me under a spell. The confidence he was radiating was almost palpable and I felt myself being pulled to him. It was intimidating, to be honest.

“You’re really cute and I want your number.”

I let out a surprised laugh, “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“No, not really,” He propped his other arm on the counter, leaning towards me and raising an eyebrow, “So what do you say, doll?”

A smile crept on my face as I mirrored his actions and leaned towards him, “You gonna memorize my number? Or do you have a phone I can put my number into?”

Jongho’s smile got brighter as he reached to grab his phone, handing it to me. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, “I’d like to think so.”

When I handed his phone back, our fingers brushed and I could’ve sworn I felt sparks shoot through me at the simple interaction.

“Well I need to head out before the rest of them get too annoyed,” He nodded towards the exit where Annabelle, Minho, and Wooyoung left, “But it was enchanting to meet you, y/n.” He bowed, drawing a laugh from me.

“Ah yes. You as well, absolutely delightful.”

He gave me a smile, “I’ll text you later.”

"Sounds good. I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” And with that, he was out the door, leaving my heart a fluttering mess.

-

Me [8:37pm] So is there a dress code for tonight?

Annabelle [8:42pm] Nope! Wear whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m wearing this if it helps at all!

Annabelle [8:43pm] 1 Image Attached*

Me [8:45pm] So leather jackets and crop tops?

Annabelle [8:48pm] Haha sure! We can match!

Me [8:51pm] Lol bet. See you at eleven :)

Annabelle [8:51pm] See you then!

I started the process of slipping on a white cropped top followed by my light washed ripped jeans. I knew I was getting ready far earlier than I could have, but something about new events made me anxious and I had to make sure I looked nice. I giggled at the black leather jacket I was throwing over my shoulders, not having worn it since high school. In the middle of debating whether or not I should add another layer of mascara to my lashes, my phone dinged.

New Number [8:59pm] Y/n this better be you. This is Jongho and I’m texting you for a really important reason and I need you to reply quick

Me [9:00pm] Yeah it’s me. What’s going on are you okay??

New Number [9:02pm] I’m gonna go grab some food before I head to Anna’s. You wanna come with?

Me [9:02pm] Oh my god don’t do that to me, you buffoon. You scared me so bad rip

[New Number name changed to A Cute Buffoon]

Me [9:03pm] But sure I’m down lol. Here’s my address btw

Me [9:03pm] 1 Location Shared*

It occurred to me perhaps a bit too late that I was sharing my address with someone that I’d met only once and in a gas station.

I mean, he’s friends with Annabelle so he’s gotta be good right? God I hope so. I thought to myself.

A Cute Buffoon [9:04] Then it’s a date :) I live pretty close so I’ll be over in 10. That work for you?

Me [9:06pm] Fine with me!

A Cute Buffoon [9:06pm] Sounds good. I’ll see you soon ;)

I set down my phone and thanked myself for already doing my makeup. I checked myself out in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance and proud of how well my makeup turned out. I grabbed my bottle of perfume and spritzed the liquid in the air, letting it gradually fall on me so it wouldn’t be too overpowering.

You look beautiful, babe.

The waiting game was harder than I thought, not knowing what to do except awkwardly sit around and play an assortment of phone games. When exactly ten minutes had passed I heard my doorbell ring and I lifted myself from my couch, grinning at his punctuality.

I opened the door to see Jongho holding a bouquet of flowers, a smug look on his face. “Lovely to meet you here, stranger.”

I wanted to make a joke back but I couldn’t seem to think of anything, too surprised by the flowers in his hands. It wasn’t anything extravagant, the small bouquet of violets, but I felt my heart swell.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

My voice was small when I spoke, “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

His eyebrows furrowed as a confused look painted his face, “Really?”

I nodded, taking the flowers from his outreached hands and smelling their sweet fragrance, “They’re beautiful.”

My eyes flickered to his, the tender look on his face making me feel as if I was melting on the spot, “You’re beautiful.”

I squealed, my face undoubtedly turning pink while my mind short circuited. I’d never become so shy around someone before and the only thing I could think of to say in response was another ‘thank you’ followed by ‘I’ll go get a vase for these.’

I opened my door further, rummaging through my cabinets for a vase when I noticed Jongho was still standing by the door, “You can come in, you know? That’s why I opened the door.”

He laughed nervously, “Sorry about that. Force of habit, I guess.”

I raised my eyebrows in a teasing manner, “What? Are you a vampire? Can you only come in if someone invites you?”

I thought I saw a flicker of shock on his face for a moment, but it was gone before I could register it and I shrugged it off, my eyes finding the perfect vase for the flowers.

“It’s just how I was raised.”

“I get that.” I placed the flowers in the vase, giving them a bit of water before walking up to Jongho and gently patting his cheek, “Your good manners are appreciated.”

He laughed in surprise, full gummy smile on display as he playfully swatted my hand away from his face, “Alright, alright. Let’s head out already.”

I made a sound of agreement before noticing a slight pink on his ears. I was temped to tease him, but ultimately decided to save it for later. If I could fluster him once I knew I could do it again.

-

The diner we went to was one I’d never heard of before, let alone been to, and I was beyond frustrated that I didn’t even know about it’s existence. It was an adorable fifties style diner and even the attire the waiters were wearing fit the theme.

“This is the cutest place to ever exist, I’m convinced.” I said as we sat down on the same side of a bright red booth.

“I really hoped you would like it. This is my favorite restaurant ever and they have fantastic milkshakes. If you’d like to share one for desert, I’m all for it.” A wink.

I bit my lip and hid my face in the menu that was placed in front of us, thankful for any method of escape.

“You’re so cute.”

“Ahh no don’t say things like that.” I giggled from behind the menu.

His hand grabbed the top of the menu, pulling it down so he could see me, “Why’s that?”

“Because you make me nervous. Like a good nervous!” I tried to explain, which only resulted in becoming even more embarrassed, “I-I mean I’m excited to be around you but I’m also nervous. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.” I cringed at myself. Never in my life did I think I’d be blushing and stuttering over some man, but my god did he prove me wrong.

“Not at all,” he reached over to take my hand in his, “because I feel it, too.”

Before I could properly react our waitress came over, taking our order and effectively saving me from becoming a human tomato.

We handed our menus back to her after ordering and she looked at us with a soft smile, “You two make a cute couple.”

While I was a bit too stunned to say anything, Jongho didn’t seem to have the same problem and went along with it, “Thank you, ma’am. That’s kind of you to say.”

When she left, Jongho leaned closer to me, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by saying that we we’re a couple. I thought that-”

“No, I didn’t mind it!” I bit my tongue after likely saying that way too fast with far too much enthusiasm, but I meant it, “I didn’t mind it,” I said again, softer this time.

The tips of his ears once again turned a faint shade of pink, “Good to know.”

The food was as wonderful as it possibly could’ve been, their fries alone being one of the best things I’d ever consumed. Just as Jongho suggested, we shared a milkshake, which led to shy eye contact and laughter and my crush becoming stronger by the minute.

Just as Jongho paid and we were about to leave, a certain song began to play and he looked at me with an air of mischief, holding out his hand to me, “Dance with me.”

I took his hand, trying to hide my smile but failing. He led me away from the table and next to the jukebox. The area surrounding it was more open, probably with the intention for people to dance near it. He grabbed my waist, holding the hand of mine that wasn’t placed on his chest and looking at me in a way that could make any woman fall in love on the spot. We swayed to the music and I couldn’t help but feel full. Like I’d found all that I’d ever need.

Put your head on my shoulder~

“Do you know this song?” He asked with a smile.

I scoffed, “Of course I do! It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s one of mine, too.”

Hold me in your arms, baby~

I mouthed along to the words as I felt the need to prove it to him. As if to one up me, Jongho began to sing along, his gorgeous voice amazing me.

Squeeze me oh so tight, show me~

That you love me, too~

I blushed as he looked at me while singing along, becoming a bit flustered himself when the lyrics clicked with him.

Put your lips next to mine dear~

Won’t you kiss me once, baby~

As if we were in sync our eyes darted to the other’s lips at the same time. I could feel Jongho’s breathing becoming heavier before he said in a hushed tone, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Was all I could respond before I pressed my lips to his, fireworks igniting inside me when he kissed me back. His lips were so soft and warm and as crazy as it sounded, he felt like home. I felt him smile against my lips as the music continued to play.

Maybe you and I will fall in love~

-

The fire was loud, crackling and lighting up the faces of all those crowded those around it. It was essentially the only source of light in the dark of the night, except for the distant lights still on in Annabelle’s house. My hands were interlocked with Jongho’s as we sat around it’s warmth, both of us finding it hard to separate from one another.

Conversation was flowing all around us, and I was relieved to find that everyone I had talked to was kind and welcoming. I was more nervous than I realized, but having Jongho next to my side alone calmed me. Someone around the fire mentioned an old story involving Annabelle and I began to wonder where she was, having not seen her since Jongho and I first arrived. I mentioned I was going to look for her and he nodded, at first wanting to join me but then getting pulled into conversation with one of his former classmates. I told him I’d head off on my own and he nodded again.

I looked around what seemed to be the entire property and still there was no sight of her. At that moment I heard yelling coming from her house, startling me. I felt my blood run cold when I recognized one of the voices as Annabelle’s. The yelling didn’t sound like it was out of fear, but instead more aggressive, out of pure anger. Without thinking I ran inside, hoping to calm the situation but instead found what seemed to be out of a work of fiction.

An unfamiliar man was on the ground, obviously trying to get away from a hidden figure before him that seemed to be cloaked in darkness. He let out a sound that I’d never heard a human make, one that I couldn’t even compare to something I’d heard before, and a shiver ran down my back. As the figure took a step forward I recognized it as Annabelle, or what seemed to be some version of her. Her normally grey eyes were now bright red, sharp fangs on display as she snarled at the man. A group of people were surrounding them, alarmed looks on their faces but hardly trying to intervene.

“What the hell?” I whispered, my eyes wide as I tried to back away without anyone noticing. But of course, I just had to step on an empty soda can, all eyes pointing my way. As I looked at the people around me, their expressions seemed to mirror mine and I swallowed, suddenly feeling immensely claustrophobic.

I met eyes with Annabelle and she seemed to change in a flash, her eyes returning to their former color and fangs disappearing. She looked more panicked than I had ever seen her which only scared me more. She was always able to keep her stressors under control, but as she stared back at me, I saw a version of her I never had before.

I was barely able to form a sentence, adrenaline coursing through me at a rampant rate, “Um...” 

Annabelle slowly walked towards me, “Oh—hey! Sorry I disappeared for a while but how’s the party going? Are you having fun?” Panic was still evident in her voice but I knew she was trying to keep a hold of the situation.

“I...I don’t-”

A stern voice came from left, and I nervously turned to meet Jongho, an unreadable expression crossing his face, “Y/n.”

“Yeah?” My voice squeaked as I began to regret agreeing to come along in the first place, still hyper aware of all the eyes on me.

“Come with me.”

His eyes softened at my panicked state and he held out a hand, “Please?”

I was hesitant, but being anywhere away from the crowd and whatever Annabelle turned into seemed to be a good idea. I took his hand and watched as he exchanged a look with Annabelle that seemed to calm her. Turning on his heels he led me back to the bonfire, sitting in a chair and motioning for me to do the same. Seeing no one around us gave me a feeling of both anxiety and comfort, and I wasn’t quite sure which feeling was winning at the moment.

“Well I’m sure you have plenty of questions.” He started, “I won’t lie to you and try to convince you what you saw wasn’t real, because it was, but I need you to know that no one is going to harm you. That guy is Anna’s roommate and they get into an argument at least once a week. Sometimes it can be nasty, but they never get physical and neither would ever hurt anyone unprovoked. No one here would.”

I was silent for a few minutes, trying to process what I saw on top of the time bomb of information he dropped on me. “Is she...is everyone....are you a vampire?” I whispered the last words, almost too stunned and afraid to say out loud.

He smiled slightly, his kind eyes making me feel safe. “Yes. We’re what you’d call vampires.”

I took a breath, almost afraid to hear the answer to my question, “Am I in any danger by being here?”

“No, everyone here is good. They don’t pose any threat. There are plenty of dangerous vampires but we stay away from them. Besides,” He placed an arm around my waist, playfulness in his eyes, “If there were, I’d protect you from them.”

“Oh? And how don’t I know you’re not dangerous?”

He leaned closer to me, clearly enjoying this, “You don’t, I suppose. Doesn’t that make it fun?”

“That’s very much debatable,” I smiled for a moment before a frown took over, “Everyone just seemed really...I don’t know, startled I guess?”

Jongho let out a loud sigh, looking down at the ground for a few seconds before looking back up at me, “Humans aren’t normally invited to these parties. It’s assumed that everyone here is a vampire. The perfume that you’re wearing, whatever the hell it is, is masking your scent. If I didn’t meet you before today I wouldn’t have known you were human. I guess Anna didn’t tell everyone, either.” He placed a hand on my knee and looked at me with kind eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly calm considering that I just learned vampires exist.”

Jongho laughed, “Yeah I’d say you’re taking it pretty well. Like I said earlier though, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions, so fire away.”

“Yeah I have a few.” I hesitated, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by my question, “Exactly how old are you?”

“Oh are you gonna age shame me?”

“No but it’s probably an important thing to know...since we kissed and all.”

He laughed again and leaned back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head,  “How old do you think I am?”

I used his question as an excuse for my eyes to wander over his body. He was beyond attractive, very clearly fit and he knew it, which equal parts pissed me off and turned me on. As hard as I tried, I kept finding myself being pulled to his thighs. Even through his jeans I could tell he had strong thighs and I had to press my fingernails into my palm to keep from drooling. “From your appearance? Early twenties. From what age fiction usually tells us vampires are? I’d guess you’re a hundred and three.”

Jongho nodded with a smile, “I’m not quite that old but that’s a fair guess. You had it right the first time. I’m a pure born and we actually age, but we don’t age as quickly as humans. I’m twenty.”

“Pure born?”

“It means both of my parents are vampires.”

I nodded as another question came to mind, a smile on my lips. “Do you sparkle in the daylight?”

“Oh my god,” He covered his face with his hands, a mixture of a groan and a laugh escaping his mouth, “No, we do not sparkle in daylight, “His hands came to rest on his knees, “But it sucks that we really shouldn’t be in direct sunlight for over two hours a day. That’s normally the rule to go by. It’ll burn us if we’re in it for much longer than that.”

“So do werewolves and witches and everything like that exist, too?”

“Yeah pretty much. We don’t all get along, but we have to coexist. It’s something we’ve struggled with for a while, unfortunately. Basically everything you’d believe to be supernatural exists.”

I was silent for a while, not really knowing what else to say.

“Y/n? Are you doing okay? If you’re not comfortable being here I can drive you home right now or if you’d rather be alone I can call an Uber or—”

My heart skipped a beat at his kindness. “No, I’m okay. I guess I’m just surprised I’m learning about this just now.”

“We do a good job of hiding it. Also it was probably a given, but keep this as a secret if you can. Having a lot of people know about our existence can be risky.”

I gave him a silent nod, unintentionally leaning closer to him. The sound of approaching footsteps made me jump into Jongho’s arms. I didn’t know why I found comfort in him, knowing that he could be dangerous as well, but he’d been nothing but sweet to me. I had no reason to fear him.

Annabelle approached us but stopped, taking a few steps back when she saw how I was buried in Jongho’s arms.

“Hey y/n.” She rubbed her arm, looking down as if she’d done something wrong.

“I guess Jongho probably told you everything at this point. I’m really sorry if I scared you and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” Even in the dark I could see tears beginning to stream down her cheeks and I felt a pain in my chest.

I got up from Jongho’s hold and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her stiffen, “I trust you, Annabelle.”

Those four words seemed to relax her and she returned my hug, still sniffling, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We aren’t supposed to tell anyone and I thought you might hate me—”

I pulled back, “Why the hell would I hate you? You’re still you.”

She laughed through tears, gripping me tighter, thanking me over and over for not pushing her away.

We’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.

-

Not too long after, Jongho drove me home. The ride was more silent than when we were headed to Annabelle’s house, but the air wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. Feeling tired, I laid my head on Jongho’s shoulder, faintly hearing ‘sleep well, baby’ before drifting asleep.

When I woke, I was in my bed. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and found a little note placed next to it that read:

I hope you don’t mind that I carried you inside. I tried to wake you for like five minutes but you were out cold. Anyways, I had a really good time with you yesterday and I hope you had fun too :) Text me when you wake so I know you’re okay. -J

I looked at my clock and saw that it was still early, but I texted Jongho anyway.

Me [3:00am] Not sure if you’re still up, but I really enjoyed yesterday, too. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna go back to sleep but I just wanted to say I’m okay and everything is good :))

A Cute Buffoon [3:00am] Sleep well, darling. We can talk in the morning

-

It had been roughly a month since Jongho and I started dating, and while I felt like I knew him pretty well, we had only known each other a little over a month, on top of the fact that he was a vampire which was essentially an entire separate culture. I’d asked him most questions I had early throughout our relationship, but one in particular kept replaying in my mind.

We were currently sitting on the couch in my apartment, cuddling each other. The TV was on but neither of us were really watching it. I was far more interested in the warm body in front of me, and based off of how Jongho was looking at me, the feeling was mutual.

I bit my lip, anxiously mulling over the question I’d wanted to ask him for weeks. I didn’t know how he would take it, let alone how I would bring it up, but I needed to ask at some point. Knowing he could probably sense my nerves, I gave in. “Jongho, can a human turn into a vampire?”

He hummed, turning to face me. “Why do you ask?”

“I just...I didn’t know if it could happen or not.”

Jongho chuckled, “Yeah it’s possible. It’s a long ass process to go through though, and there’s a lot that can go wrong, so it rarely happens.”

I shifted in my seat, trying not to appear overly interested. “Why is that? What can go wrong?

He smiled and raised a brow, his cocky persona resurfacing, “You sound so eager to know, dear. Do you want to become a vampire?” His eyes briefly flickered towards my lips before he tilted his head, dragging his soft lips across my neck. I let out a gasp when I felt the tips of his teeth lightly scraping the skin, “Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse for me to put my mouth on you?”

Like with anything that exuded him, I felt myself becoming quickly overwhelmed, my mind now hazy and distant. I shut my eyes in an attempt to gain some semblance of control over myself.

“Your thoughts are swirling, doll.” Jongho began leaving gentle kisses along the side of my jaw, “Don’t think too much. Just let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.” I said through a short breath, knowing we’d just have to have the conversation another time.

We’d had sex before, so it wasn’t like this was new territory for us, but every time felt like the first, leaving me just as out of breath each time.

He lifted me and placed me on his thigh, dragging me across his flexed muscles. I felt my eyes roll back at the simple motion, my need growing at an embarrassing rate. I grabbed his shoulders as I began to drag myself against him, whines and whimpers spilling from my lips.

“God you’re hot,” Jongho said through hot breaths, beginning to kiss my neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Thanks I try.” I managed to say, pleased when Jongho laughed.

“You don’t even have to, and it’s completely unfair.” His hands moved under my shirt and danced along my skin, “It’s like you’re an angel come to life.”

I let out a loud moan, feeling tears well in my eyes from his praise, “You always make me feel so beautiful when I’m with you.”

Jongho responded with a smile, carrying me to my bedroom and laying me down on the bed while hurriedly discarding both of our clothes.

“You’re always so eager, babe.”

He nuzzled my neck as he climbed on top of me, his hands finding my own and holding them, “As if you’re not.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

He then moved in between my thighs, teasing me with his fingers as he ran them along my wet slit, occasionally rubbing my clit, drawing small whines from me.

“Jongho please just fuck me already.”

“Sweetheart, do you even think you’re wet enough for me?” He cooed.

Feeling frustrated, I pushed my fingers inside myself with ease, pulling them out and spreading them so he could see my essence dripping down my fingers, “I don’t know you tell me.” I said with far more sass than I intended.

Jongho’s eyes widened at the sight and wasted no time positioning his cock at my entrance, pushing in and letting out the most beautiful groans.

Neither of us ever bothered to use protection because, to put it simply, vampires couldn’t get humans pregnant. It was only possible when both partners were vampires, and we took full advantage of that.

“Fuck—baby you feel amazing. You’re so warm and tight ohmygod.” Jongho moaned as he began to move, thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace.

I clenched around him, loving when he was vocal. His sounds helped get me off just as much as his actions, at times it seemed.

“You feel...really good...too.” I said through heavy breaths. And as much as I wanted to last longer in bed, with Jongho, I never could.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’re a vampire and you’ve got like magic powers or something or maybe you’re just a sex god—but holy shit...I’m close.”

He threw back his head and had the audacity to laugh, something I really couldn’t stay mad at with how good he was making me feel. “Babe it’s been like six minutes.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” I joked, my laugh turning into a moan. It only spurred Jongho on, making him angle one of my legs up higher, hitting deeper inside of me.

“I know you’re close, baby. I can feel it. Cum for me, baby girl. Let go for me.”

He reached down to tease my sensitive nub, drawing quick circles until I was seeing stars, chanting his name like a prayer.

After Jongho came down from his high, he disappeared into the bathroom as he always did, coming back with a warm towel. As he pressed the towel to my thighs I tried to ask again.

“So...about the human to vampire thing?”

“Well,” Jongho sighed, “I didn’t think I’d be able to distract you forever.” He smiled, “It’s mostly done because couples want to stay together. The thing is though, the vampire obviously gets a taste of the human’s blood and it can be hard to stop once you’ve marked them, especially since smell is such a big allure for us.”

He took a long breath, “Then the human will almost always pass out, and needs to be taken care of for the next couple days because they’ll be so weak. Another problem is that the scent of their blood will be amplified during those days and it’ll be harder for the vampire to not, you know...” He looked away, not able to say the words. I knew what he meant, we both did. In some cases, vampires would kill their human partners for of their blood. Sometimes it was beyond their control. Just a primal need that would betray them. “Then their scent is more easily detected by other vampires and the whole thing is just kinda a mess. I think I’ve only heard of five attempts and only one of them was successful.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

“And then on top of it all, it can be harder for the human to adjust and it can put a lot of pressure on the relationship. Human and vampire relationships are dangerous.”

His face was serious as he ran a hand through my hair. I looked up at him and leaned into his touch.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, a shy behavior I hadn’t seen from him before, “I guess it’s important for you to decide then.” His eyes met mine again, “Is this still something you want to continue?”

“Our relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, are you crazy? You mean the world to me.” I swallowed, realizing he hadn’t voiced his own thoughts, “What about you? Do you want this?”

“I think you have a pretty good idea of what I want.” He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, his eyes sparkling.

“Hey Jongho?”

He hummed, looking at me.

“I want to spend forever with you.”

[mcudarklibrary]

Author Q&A: searchforanotherway

🖤 The MCU Dark Library encourages everyone to reblog and share the wonderful talents of this community, no matter how big or small your following is. Supporting each other is key to ensuring the longevity of this community. 🖤

Please be sure to reblog and share with your followers.

Tell us who you are!

@searchforanotherway​

How long have you been writing fanfics? If the MCU wasn’t your first fandom, what was?

I published my first fanfic on FFN in 2015 for Naruto and RWBY. From there, I discovered a community of Overwatch writers on Tumblr by 2018 and began writing fanfic for Overwatch until I got into the marvel and started writing Avengers fanfic in 2019.

What helps motivate you to write? Where do you find inspiration?

If I am procrastinating and looking for motivation, usually I will go back and re-read some of my works to get the gears in my head thinking about future scenes and plot. I like to think of myself as a maladaptive daydreamer and visualize my story to help organize the plot. I also try to re-read some of my favorites from other writers as good inspiration to remind myself of the type of dark!fic and writing style I'm hoping to achieve. 

If you could give new writers any advice, what would it be?

Read from your favorite fanfic authors and ANALYZE their work. I don't mean to say "be critical", but notice the things they do right! Or in better terms, notice the things you like about their writing. Some writers are talented at exposition or narration, detailed descriptions, setting the tone (especially for dark!fics) in their writing, paragraph formatting and grammar; understand all the writers that inspire you and adopt parts of their writing style that you like from all of them to help improve your own writing and create a unique style that you can appreciate.

The last advice I will give is a classic saying that I think all writers are well familiar with: "show, don't tell". It's something I'm still trying to get better at myself, but I do think that writing descriptively helps! And trying to balance that with some exposition and narration can make the difference in the pacing of your fic. There's a lot of resources online, so I suggest checking it out if your still confused! The internet is always available to help you with writing!

What is your favourite dark trope and/or kink? Why?

As much as I wouldn't mind listing off every trope and kink I love, I think I can sum them all up as any trope or kink that has disturbing intimacy. So breeding kinks and A/B/O's are a yes! Not so much other things like gun/knife kinks. Along that, any type of yandere trope that shows some sort of one-sided affection to the subject of said affections. 

Share a few lines/paragraphs of one of your stories that truly sums up your style. Don’t forget to share a link to the story!

I will leave a lengthy snippet below from my Overwatch story, 'Hime'. It's currently still in progress and available to read on AO3. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539803/chapters/43942510)

- - - - -

“Don’t take me away from him! I’m not leaving!”

But no amount of strength you had could help you as Hanzo finally ripped you away from Genji.

“No! Nooo!” You beat your fists over the Shimada lord, but they did nothing while Hanzo quickly lifted you into his arms, carrying you like the bride you were supposed to be, walking the two of you away from the crowd.

You turned over to face them again, yelling louder, “Please! Someone save my husband, please!” You cried even harder watching all the shocked expressions from everyone. They all roamed closer to Genji’s dying body, but none of them made a move to help him.

You reached out for your love, and countless more tears washed down your face, but when the gates to the palace suddenly came into your vision, closing itself from the city, did you turn to Hanzo.

“Brother! W-where are you taking me?” Hanzo didn’t respond but instead continued to walk through the compound and up the stairs that led to the Shimada’s home. You struggled out of his grip, but Hanzo’s grasp was firm and unyielding. You cried out in pain when his hands held your body even tighter to his hot chest. The doors into the home opening as he led both of you inside. You continued to cry until he eventually led you to his room.

Hanzo released you then, placing you down on your feet only for you to try and bolt away from him a few seconds later. Hanzo quickly grabbed you by your forearm before you even reached the door, and pulled you further back into the room.

“Hanzo stop!” You yanked your arm, but he did not let go. “Stop Hanzo! Why are you doing this? Please! Genji is your brother! I am your sist—”

You couldn’t finish when Hanzo turned to you, more furious than you have ever seen a man before. “You are not my sister! You are my wife! And I will consummate this marriage tonight!”

What did he say?

His wife?... Consummate?

You screamed.

Is there a dark trait you like to interweave into your dark characters? Is there something in particular that draws you to this characteristic?

I enjoy dark!characters that have yandere and delusional characteristics, and I like to sum up the reason why as my intense fear and guilt to be in an actual irl relationship to which I use fanfics to create characters that would love the reader and be with her against her consent.

Which story did you struggle to complete? The one that made you drag your feet to finish.

I consider my story, 'Hunger' to be the most struggling to write. I initially wrote that just to let out my sexual frustrations, but a lot of feedback has been about the plot... That I've barely made outside of a few important events. With that, there's been some pressure to speed up the pacing. Also, fun fact: 'Hunger' was originally supposed to be an Overwatch fanfic.

Do you have a mutual who will hold your hand and support you when you’re doubting yourself? Do you have one who will truthfully and honestly help you grow as a writer?

@americasass81​ has been there for me a lot when I've been at my worst doubting myself, and the sweetest part about it was that she reached out to me on her own accord usually after I post a rant. She is incredible and literally carrying this community on her back--we don't deserve her. 

As for who helped me grow as a writer, I definitely confided with @darkdrabblings​ back when I first got into Overwatch fanfiction. We would throw each other headcanon ideas and all that, and she really did support me a lot. Since then, I don't really have a lot of conversations about my writing with other people.

Do you have a story that contains personal or important details from an experience that is your own?

My first story that I wrote on FFN, 'Nothing More, Nothing Less', was written when I was severely depressed, with a female protagonist that reflected me and my life. 'A Thousand Suns' is another one in which the protagonist's background would be similar to my own. 

Check out @searchforanotherway​ masterlist here

🖤Please reblog and help promote and support dark content creators 🖤

[drarry-we-meet]

Valentine’s Day Sucks

Part 1

Draco grit his teeth as another wave of ooohs and ahhhs sounded across the small collection of cubicles. He tried to ignore the outbreak of distinctly feminine chatter and focus on the report he was currently writing. After reading the same paragraph three times, he was finally able to get back into the flow of things. He was halfway through drafting his next sentence when a loud bang followed by assorted squeals and giggles broke out, and he couldn’t help but sneak a peek.

Longbottom was currently surrounded by a cloud of glittering pink smoke that smelled strongly of roses, and there on his desk was a humongous box of chocolates. Draco sighed, he was more than ready for this Valentine’s Day nonsense to be over with. It was bad enough hearing all the witches in his department cooing like a pack of wild doves each time one of them received a flower delivery, which of course was every few minutes. But to make matters worse, this year the wizards seemed to be getting just as many gifts thanks the Wheezes new ad campaign which insisted that witches must also get soppy romantic trinkets for their gents.

Draco would have admired such a brilliant marketing strategy, that had surely doubled their profits this year, if it didn’t cause him to have double the annoyance at the same time. While the witches gifts were more traditional and quiet; flowers, chocolate, jewelry. The men’s gifts were far sillier; singing heat shaped telegrams that burst into miniature fireworks at the end of their song, stuffed bears that did cartwheels across desks before exploding into a shower of confetti, and large boxes like Longbottom’s that went off like a bomb, leaving behind chocolates once the smoke had cleared.

Of course it didn’t help matters that Draco knew he wouldn’t be receiving anything this year. It wasn’t that he was alone, at least not technically. He had been seeing, or at least sleeping with, Harry-savior-of-the-whole-fucking-wizarding-world Potter, for just over 4 months. Not that it counted though, probably. They had never discussed whether or not what they were doing was exclusive. For Draco it was, and he was fairly certain it was for Harry as well, seeing how he barely had any free-time as Deputy Head Auror and all. But a lack of time to see other people, and actually wanting to date someone were two very different things.

Case in point was the Mountain of gifts that Draco could see steadily growing in the office across the room filled with their cubicles. Witches and wizards from all over the world sent Harry gifts each holiday, but this one always seemed to be the worst. Two curse breakers were currently stationed in the room sorting, screening, and vanishing questionable gifts, while Harry himself was still out meeting with the muggle liaison of Interpol for some reason or another. He wasn’t due to return until Monday, and by then his office would be clear once again.

The safe candy was set aside to be distributed to various departments in the ministry, particularly those inconvenienced the most by this whole fiasco; the mailroom, the janitors union, the curse breakers, and of course the aurors. All of the mail was piled neatly for his secretary to review. The majority of it would be vanished of course, but a few of the most polite ones would be answered eventually.

In fact, now that Draco thought about it, his willingness to always be available to Harry no matter how last minute or weird the hour was, in order to be able to see Harry in between his many meetings and trips abroad might be the only reason Harry even bothered with him at all. It was that thought, paired with the reminder that so far whatever ‘this’ was between them had remained a carefully guarded secret from even their closest friends, that caused a sharp clenching pain inside his gut. Draco determinedly pushed all thoughts of the idiot-who-lived far from his mind and tried once again to focus on work.

By lunchtime, the continuous loud bangs and rose scented smoke that accompanied them, had the beginnings of a migraine forming behind Draco’s eyes. He decided to escape the ministry for a bit and get some fresh air at the cafe across the street. He had just finished, and stood up to don his coat when a shadow appeared across his desk. He looked up into the sneering faces of Zacharias Smith, his well-endowed girlfriend, and a couple of brand new trainees whose names he didn’t care to remember.

"I was just about to head to lunch Smith so whatever it is you need will have to wait till after I return,” Draco kept his most impassive face in place, but his voice was firm. He knew the only thing Smith wanted was to start trouble and he wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

Smith smirked, “I just wanted to ask you where your Valentine’s Day gift was," he asked with a faux sweet voice.

That threw Draco for a loop for a minute, “What are you talking about?"

Smith and his group immediately started laughing, Draco wasn’t sure what the hell they found so funny or why on earth they were asking him about Valentine’s gifts of all things.

Smith’s smile had only gotten wider, “Well Malfoy, he emphasized, maybe it has escaped your notice, but you’re the only person in the entire department, possibly even the entire ministry who hasn’t received even one measly card.”

Draco could feel his heart rate picking up, but he hadn’t lived with old-moldyfarts for nothing, and was able to keep his face blank and posture relaxed. Smith was just getting warmed up though, pointing out how ‘of course’ they shouldn’t be so surprised that he hadn’t received anything, since he was death eater scum and all. By this point they were attracting the attention of the rest of the office.

Draco could see out of the corner of his eye that Granger was heading their direction, but Draco would rather die than have someone he once allowed to be tortured in his house defend him from a spineless git like Smith.

Draco carefully rolled his eyes and shook his head at Smith, “is that really the best you could come up with today Zachary?” Because he knew how much Smith hated people using the shorter form of his name, "you must be having just such a fulfilling Valentine’s Day yourself if you would rather spend all your time talking to me than your girlfriend, what are you 12?” He then swept out of the office before Smith could reply or Granger could reach them.

He was waiting down the hall for the lift when a fierce grip grabbed his arm and spun him around. It was Smith’s girlfriend, and Draco was fairly shocked to be manhandled by her. She, unlike her slimy boyfriend, had always seemed like a genuinely nice person. However her face right now was twisted in fury.

"No one will ever love you," she spat. "You can look down on us all you want, but in the end you will be a bitter old man and die alone. You don’t even have any friends!” She spun on her heel and left then.

Draco was left reeling in the hallway, his vision swimming a bit and his breathing a bit too fast and shallow. As the room came back into focus he locked eyes with Granger. Of course she had followed him out into the hall, of course she’d probably seen the whole thing. Fuck. The lift chimed and Draco stumbled back into in, jamming the door close button to stop her from pursuing him any further. He knew that look, that look of pity, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Draco ended up skipping lunch, he walked aimlessly around the nearest park until his face and fingers were numb with cold despite his gloves and warming charms. The words, “no one will ever love you,” played on endless repeat in his head as he fought to direct his thoughts toward anything else. He didn’t know why he let their words get to him like that, he didn’t give a shit what Smith or his girlfriend thought.

But the words had cut him to the bone, mainly because it was a very real fear he had held onto since the end of the war. His friends had all fled the country after the trials, some even before, and his dating life had been pretty nonexistent for the last 6 years. Nothing they had said was technically wrong. The men Draco had been with were ok with fucking him as long as no one ever found out. He just wasn’t the type of person anyone could ever take home to meet their parents.

And Draco had been ok with that, or so he thought. Relationships were just messy, unnecessary. Until Harry. Harry was the first man Draco had ever been with who took him to dinner, (at muggle restaurants), who always spent the night, who held him after sex, who made breakfast for him the morning after. Harry made him watch muggle films on his couch while giving him neck rubs or foot rubs and always made sure he had Draco’s favorite tea on hand. By the second month Draco had begun to think that maybe, just maybe they were something more than just sex.

But then one day they had been interrupted mid-foreplay by one of Harry’s friends visiting unannounced, and Harry had quickly shoved Draco into the closet and told him to be quiet. Draco had died a little inside that day. It was an unspoken agreement after that. Draco was a secret, a dirty little secret, just like always.

Draco returned to the office a few minutes late, half frozen and despondent, but as always he didn’t let any of it show on his face. He had considered skiving off the rest of the day, but wouldn’t give Smith the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under his skin.

He buried himself in his work and carefully ignored any whispers or glances he felt come his way, but he was still attuned enough to the atmosphere of the room to notice as everyone was wrapping up their tasks at the end of the day and loudly discussing their romantic plans for the evening, when a ripple of silence suddenly overtook the room. It was so quiet and still that Draco looked up, wondering if everyone had somehow been stupefied simultaneously.

His jaw dropped as his eyes met green. Harry was standing just in front of his desk looking so very fit in his deputy head uniform. His brass buttons shining, his hair tousled just right, his brilliant eyes unobstructed since he’d finally ditched his horrid specs long ago. He was holding a garment bag in one hand and the biggest bouquet of long stemmed roses in the other. They were wrapped in white silk with a dark red bow, each petal had gold filigree on the edges.

"Are you ready to go darling?” He asked with a warm and inviting face, a fair bit of mischief in his eyes.

Draco, who had no idea what was going on, but was pretty sure he must have passed out from all the fumes and was dreaming just nodded.

Harry smiled brightly and laid the garment bag over Draco’s desk. "Well that’s good," Harry said, handing the roses to Draco, who took them dazedly, "Hermione told me you were too busy to pick up your suit today, so I went ahead and got it for you. We don’t have much time until the Portkey to Paris leaves so we’ll need to hurry home and change. I don’t think Le Cinq will let us in without the formal wear.

Draco who had decided he was definitely dreaming, simply nodded again and stood. Harry wasted no time walking around the desk to meet him. He placed a chaste, but lingering kiss on his lips, grabbed the bag and steered Draco toward the door with a warm hand on the small of his back.

The entire trek to the doors no one moved, Draco wasn’t sure any of them were even breathing. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Harry had just publicly outed them. Every face in the room was stricken with shock, except for Hermione who smiled at them both and Ron who gave him a curt nod. Draco realized neither of them were surprised. They know, he thought, oh gods they already know. He looked at Harry again and Harry gave him another dazzling smile and kiss on the cheek.

As soon as they were outside the doors a cacophony of noise sounded behind them and Harry turned to wink at Draco, but instead of heading toward the lifts, he simply wrapped his arm more firmly around Draco’s waist and apparated them on the spot.

-gift for @mothermalfoy

Link to Part 2:  https://drarry-we-meet.tumblr.com/post/190868463275/valentines-day-sucks-warning-this-2nd-half

[duskandstarlight]

Hi!

I know you are really busy, but if you ever have time, I would love if you shared details about your writing process. Sometimes you mention you've had things written for awhile and that makes me wonder how you do your magic. ;)

Hi! Sure thing :)

So I usually write E&L chapter by chapter, but sometimes scenes shift around which is why they have usually been written for a while (eg smut for Chapter 39 being pushed back and rearranged). I also get visions of what will definitely happen in a fic. If it grips me and I can’t stop thinking about it I usually just start typing it out in case it leaves me. Eg) Chapter 30 smut, the gift giving, Amren and Nesta forgiving one another. Then I fit it in whenever the story calls for it, if that makes sense?!

If I have writer’s block on a chapter, that’s when I usually write a POV or I write an entirely different scene that comes later on that’s super definitive or excites me in some way. I often split a chapter into ‘parts’ and flit between those parts depending on my mood! So, I wrote the training scene with Maya and the girls in E&L in the last chapter last, weaving in the plot whenever my brain had the capacity to figure it out. The Heroicis excerpt came last (and was a pain in the ass to write!)

I often write a paragraph which is full of _____ and turn it into a comment where I add awful notes like EMBELLISH, FILL, SOMETHING TO DO WITH NESTA AND THE CAULDRON/TOMAS/WANTING CASSIAN, hahaha. If you guys saw my drafted chapters you would recoil and be like WTF! @jeakat knows what I’m talking about because she’s had the misfortune of reading my drafts for the Habits universe.

So... that’s a mishmash of my mind and writing process. I’m sorry if none of this made any sense but message me any time if you want to chat about it in more depth :) I’m always looking for tips from other writer’s, too :)  

[beskarberry]

FUCKING SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T READ CHAPTER 6!!!!

@mrsparknuts​ have been fuggin dying to get to that ceremony from, like, chapter two! I really think that Din hold-my-baby-while-i-sacrifice-myself-for-total-strangers Djarin has RIDE OR DIE written on the inside of his helmet thanks to his creed, and if the person he loves finds him dishonorable then he’s not worthy of the breath in his lungs.

A normal Riduurok probably never goes quite that emotionally, two or more Mandos would enter the binding already knowing what would happen if they decided not to engage, so unless one of them was more full of devotion than the other, the ceremony would go off without a hitch. However, if one of them was being forceful or demanding that they engage, then the other one has the opportunity to literally cut their losses.

I wanted Reader to challenge that, since she’s not Mandalorian and has no goddamn clue what their traditional practices are outside of hiding their faces, on top of the premonitions that she had while in hyperspace, the ceremony made for a very touchy moment. Reader has a lot of intrusive thoughts, on top of the anxiety of the situation that she’s put herself in, and it all bubbles over into stress-induced nightmares. In her mind its like: I’ve already seen this, this has to be a lie, he wouldn’t really want to die for me? He wouldn’t let me kill him just because I wouldn’t want him?

But he would, and he almost does in canon multiple times just to protect people who he thinks deserve to be protected over him, the foundling most of all; and I think that stems back to the combination of his heritage and the fact that he’s just a very good man. Does he fuck up? All the time. Does that make him less of a good man? No, it makes him human. The one thing that being a Mandalorian can’t guarantee is humanity. Nobody has any idea what’s under all that armor, could be anything, could be a gungan, or a wookie, who knows?

What Reader does know that Din loves her, long before either of them put it into Basic, but she doesn’t know that she knows, which is what lead to her visions. Her subconscious knows from their first hunt together is that his primary concern is if she and the child are safe, that protecting them is his number one priority. He could have easily left her for dead on those dunes, taken the credits and moved on, but he didn’t. He and the child patched her up and he stayed with her through the night to make sure she was comfortable. A hunters life is fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

She knows that he loves her music, whether or not its sung well doesn’t matter, just that it’s sung at all, because every time she breaks into her rip-roaring starsongs its for his child. He asks to hear them again because to him that’s what love sounds like. He comes back to the fireside to hear them again because he wants to hear the sound of love.

She knows in her heart that he doesn’t want her to go, but that’s what their mission is, to get to The End. She can’t bog him down, he’s got the foundling to take care of and his own life to get back to, canon or no canon, but he insists that that is their foundling, not just his. She breaks her own heart over this, and if she had just been open with him about her puffy, tear-welted face in the flight deck then she could have avoided a good deal of extra heartache. He would have told her exactly what she already knew, what her visions already knew.

However, both of them are bad about talking about their fee-fees, he’s very stoic, talks mostly with his hands and shoulders rather than actual words, and she’s a no-bullshit hunters-don’t-cry type of badass. This was a fantastic dynamic to explore, these two hard exterior, soft gooey interior hunters that bond over their love of the child and the love of the hunt, until that love melts together into a love for each other.

The krayt’s teeth were an interesting token of affection that I came up with, I see a lot of fics that I adore where Din is the one that gives the first gift. And I love those! They’re very sweet, but as the writer, and as a big bullheaded woman that loves her husband, I wanted it to go the other way for a change. Give boys gifts! Give boys pretty things that are probably expensive and not really for anything but still nice to have, things to treasure. Tell boys they’re beautiful, and that they deserve to have and enjoy beautiful things. To Reader, the gift of the opalized fossils was a way of saying “You fucked up, but I forgive you, and I think you should have these so you know every time you see them, that I forgive you and appreciate you. And I love you...

Meanwhile, behind the beskar Din’s losing his motherfucking mind. There’s NO WAY that she did what she just did on PURPOSE?! Can’t be... She wants me?! to mARRY HER?! He’s sworn to her side as her protector from day one, but that doesn’t mean she’s sworn back to him, or that either of them are actually ‘married’, just protected. But now he has TANGIBLE EVIDENCE THAT SHE LIKES HIM BACK! LIKE LIKES... LIKE LIKE LIKES! He wanted to explode right then and there, but what if he scared her away? What if that was too much commitment for a pair of literal strangers? So he held his composure, tucked her into bed, and tried not to fucking die.

He wanted to speak with the alor before talking to Karga, mostly to reinforce what he already knew and make preparations for the riduurok. Also I wanted there to be a ceremony with an officiant and some kind of Mandalorian ritual creed bs something or other. Reader is going to leave. Their contract is almost up, and like hell he’s going to let her go. So in his typical, ride-or-die way, he asked for her hand in exchange for his life, to give himself so fully in a way that medin’uir never could.

In the end it all came down to a little trio that loves each other very much, and I wanted Grogu to be a part of that since he’s the pretty green bow that ties their small family so nicely together. I wanted him to get what he didn’t get to have in S2, I wanted him to have his father promise to never let him go, to never let Reader go. To promise that they would be a pack til the end of their days, a clan of three.

And I really wanted to make my hubbyboo cry because he’s a pretty crier and he’s very beautiful and really and truly inspires a huge fucking chunk of my writing and I love him very much. Super fun fact! Everything after chapter one is written the way it is because it’s specifically written to be read aloud! Yep, you read that right! Five chapters of self-insert smut fic has been READ ALOUD IN THIS HOUSE BY MY HUSBAND, SEXY BITS AND ALL.

So when his sweet, gentle voice fucking cracked on the last paragraphs?? You can’t buy that.

[bumblebeetlejuice]

IDK HOW TO USE THE READ MORE BREAK ON MOBILE SORRY

Beetlelands human/college au

slight nsfw

“Don’t say shit!” The unholy screech echoed through the library, disturbing the other students there.

Adam was standing over his partners, hands raised in a nonthreatening gesture. Barbra couldn’t help snickering, but she didn’t turn away from the monitor. Beetlejuice, on the other hand was full on glaring. The open word document on his computer was still impressively blank.

“If you say a single goddamn told you so, I’m going to crush your sexy twink throat with my thighs!”

“Alright! Alright! I came to support you not to antagonize you!” Adam reminded as lovingly as he could. Quickly he pressed a kiss to Beetlejuice’s forehead before he could be swatted at.

“Shut the fuck up.” He dramatically spun back to the screen.

Even though Beetlejuice put on an expression of indifference, it was true. He had practically begged Adam and Barbra to spend the night in the library with him. Out of his five classes there was only one he wasn’t failing and that was World History. Beetlejuice had somehow maintained a solid seventy all semester which meant this last essay was the only thing between him failing or passing.

It didn’t matter that much to Beetlejuice. Since third grade there wasn’t a single class he hadn’t had to repeat or at least take summer classes for.

But Adam and Barbra were taking American History next semester. If he passed, that meant they could all sign up for the same course.

They’d be forced to spend an entire hour with him!

And he could copy their homework!

Finally the tapping on his shoulder broke through his thoughts. Beetlejuice spun to face Barbra.

“It’s almost 7, BJ. Start on your rough draft.” Even though it was a command, Barbra made it sound like the gentlest of suggestions.

“Fiiiiine.” His eyes moved back to the screen. He could see Adam’s reflection. The brunette had settled in a chair behind them, typing something on his tablet.

Beetlejuice scrubbed a hand through his crunchy hair. Green flakes rained down in front of his vision.

What the fuck was he supposed to be writing about anyways? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to that stupid class. October had been a blur of frat parties and drug experimentation. November had been a blur of seasonal depression and long cocaine binges.

God he could really go for a hit of something right now.

Beetlejuice looked over at Barbra. She probably had some weed in her bag somewhere. Then again, she actually knew how to balance her school and party life. She was the type to get high then come to the library, not bring a joint inside.

“Beetlejuice.”

“What? I’m thinking!”

Barbra tilted her head, “Looks like you’re not thinking about the right thing.”

“I didn’t give you consent to read my mind, babe. You guys are always riding my ass about this kind of stuff so what’s with the double standard, huh?”

<!-- more -->

“Here.” Adam had stood up. He leaned over BJ to get to the mouse and keyboard.

Beetlejuice ended up with his neck sandwiched between Adam’s arms. The top of his head was brushing against Adam’s chin.

“Let’s start with the heading.”

“Mm actually Adam, while you’re at it, why don’t you type the essay and I’ll proofread it.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, love. I’m here to help, not to do it for you.”

“But you’d be helping by doing it for me-” BJ whined, “Don't put that! My name’s Beetlejuice!”

Adam corrected what he had typed, without arguing, “Okay now what’s this essay about? I can help you with the outline.”

“Good question.” Beetlejuice casually rubbed a hand over Adam's, interlacing their fingers.

“Do you have notes or anything?”

“I’ve got a few notes. I can’t hit the high ones too well anymore on account of my balls dropping.”

Adam took that as a no. He clicked open a different tab, scrolling through BJ's folio account. Eventually he found a link for the essay requirements. It was pretty tame as far as college essays went. Three hundred words over any of the topics listed below. AP format. The works cited page even counted toward the three hundred.

“Alright, so which of these topics do you know the most about?” Adam asked highlighting the list.

Beetlejuice chewed the red nail polish off his ring finger as he forced his eyes to focus on the words.

Blah, blah, blah, empire, blah, blah, blah, crusade, blah, blah, blah, civilization.

Using the hand not in his mouth, Beetlejuice poked a random topic on the screen.

“The Byzantine Empire?”

“Yup.”

“Alrighty! That was an interesting period of time, especially architecturally.”

Of course Adam knew a lot about boring history stuff. That sexy nerd was majoring in the most boring major there was: architecture.

“During thi-"

“You guys hungry? I’m starving!”

He could see Barbra raise a brow out of the corner of his eye. The two of them had already stopped to get food before they got here. Barbra had insisted, since she knew how hard it was to get things done on an empty stomach.

“Don’t give me that look, babe. You know I’m a fucking fatass.”

Her expression shifted, “You’re beautiful, sweetie.”

She pulled a dollar from her pocket, “Here. Go get something from the vending machine.”

Adam moved back as Beetlejuice snatched up the dollar.

“Hold up!” BJ grabbed his backpack and dug out a roll of masking tape.

The couple watched as he carefully taped one side of the dollar then carefully taped the other side. He’d seen it in a video once and was eager to try it.

Beetlejuice jumped up, zooming to the vending machines on the other side of the room.

If this worked he was going to clean out every vending machine on campus.

The dollar disappeared into the slot easily enough. Beetlejuice held on to the tape, waiting for the pulling to stop before he yanked the dollar back out.

B3.

A bag of m&ms edged forward before dropping into the slot.

“Fuck yeah!” Beetlejuice yelled.

At least thirteen people glared at him. That didn’t stop him from cramming the dollar back in.

Beetlejuice managed to snag two bags of m&ms and a honey bun. He was waiting for a bag of doritos to fall, when the bag stopped.

“What the fuck? Hello?” He banged on the machine once.

The chips were stuck.

Beetlejuice let his other snacks fall to the carpet. He shoved the dollar in his coat pocket before winding up and kicking the machine. The resulting sound was loud but the chips didn’t budge.

Fine. He could do this the hard way.

He took a small running start, then slammed his shoulder into the machine.

Nothing.

He backed up and did it again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Someone might have been saying his name, but they’d have to wait.

He slammed into it again.

Suddenly Adam and Barbra were standing in front of him, looking equally concerned.

“Beetlejuice!” Barbra snapped.

“Huh? What!”

“What the heck are you doing?” Adam joined in.

“Chips got stuck. Now move.”

“BJ, sweetie, don’t worry about the chips. We can get someone to open it later.”

“Yeah, look at the snacks you’ve already got.” He hadn’t seen Adam pick up them up, but there they were in his hands.

Barbra wrapped an arm around Beetlejuice’s back, steering him back to the computers, “Come on. If you break another vending machine I don’t think they’ll let you off with another warning.”

“It’s bullshit anyway. We already pay to go here! Why do we also have to pay for food and parking and stupid books we don’t even use!” He was accidentally yelling.

Barbra pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her and Adam managed to wedge him into a chair between their chairs, with a hand on each of his arms.

“We know, BB,” Adam practically purred, “You can’t keep picking fights with vending machines though. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m…” It was hard to argue when they ganged up on him with their special brand of gentle affection. Beetlejuice practically melted, “…Fine. Whatever.”

They stayed like that for a little while until Beetlejuice’s attention shifted back to the food. He dug into the honey bun while Barbra asked for critique on her own paper. It was for some literature class and wasn’t due until the next night.

From what Beetlejuice heard as she read aloud, it sounded pretty good. Adam gave suggestions on some sentence structures. Beetlejuice suggested she add stuff about reverse cowgirls.

She put on the final touches, submitted it then turned back around expectantly.

“So, BJ.”

He spit the bit of m&m wrapper he’d been chewing onto the floor, “So Barbra.”

“What time is your paper due?”

“…7AM. I got an extension because I’m stupid.”

“You are not stupid.” The couple spoke in perfect unison.

Beetlejuice waved them off dismissively. It was already 8:57… somehow.

Whatever. He still had like twenty hours.

“Now that I’m finished, we can all focus on getting your paper done!” Barbra chirped.

“Yeah!” Adam pulled BJ and himself back over to the computer, “I was going to suggest writing about the architectural aspects of course, since I could really help you there, but you’re probably not interested in that.”

Beetlejuice bit off another piece of wrapper, chewing on it thoughtfully.

“What about the fall of the empire?” Barbra suggested, “You love dissecting weak societal structures.”

That was true.

Beetlejuice nodded.

“Okay this is good.” Adam excitedly began typing, “You’ll have an intro, three paragraphs then a conclusion. Your intro can explain the inner workings of the empire…”

Beetlejuice looked back over at the vending machine. His poor chips were still in there, just waiting for someone to free them. Someone, meaning Beetlejuice. If anyone else tried to take those doritos he was going to break their fucking shins. That was a promise.

“Beetlejuice, we pulled up a few links that talk about the fall of the Byzantine empire. All you have to do is sort through the information and use it to support your topic.” Adam explained.

Beetlejuice blinked, “That doesn’t sound difficult to do at all.”

“Of course not. It’ll be fun!” Barbra smiled.

BJ moved the mouse around the screen, clicking through the links they had pulled up. So many words. So much reading. He was getting tired just thinking about reading.

One of the links was a video. Beetlejuice immediately went for that one.

“This is one of my favorite educational channels,” Barbra informed, “It’s certified as academic content and they really get right to the point.”

Beetlejuice checked the video length, “Fifteen minutes! How the fuck do you get right to the point in fifteen minutes?”

“I’m sure it’s possible.” Adam pushed a notebook and pen into BJ's hands, “I want you to write down anything interesting you hear in the video.”

Beetlejuice groaned loudly, “Can we take a break?”

He expected them to say no and call him lazy since he literally hadn’t done anything yet.

“Yup. We can take a break after the video.” Barbra said instead.

That was… fine. A fifteen minute video then a fifteen minute break. Beetlejuice gnawed on the end of his pen as the video began. Vaguely, he realized he had swallowed the wrapper piece.

Adam and Barbra took turns hitting pause whenever they noticed the scratching of pen on paper. They even made the video interesting by making jokes about people in ancient Rome.

By the time it was over, Beetlejuice had accumulated an entire page and a half of semi usable notes. His handwriting was barely legible, but if he stared long enough he’d probably figure it out.

“Break time!” The notebook and pen landed messily on the floor as he jumped to his feet, “You guys wanna make out on the staircase?”

Barbra smirked sideways at a blushing Adam, “We'd get in a lot of trouble if we got caught.”

“Who gives a shit!”

Obviously Barbra and Adam did. The goody two shoes. Even though they hadn’t admitted it, Beetlejuice knew they’d chosen to meet at the library because every time they did a dorm study night, no one could keep their hands to themselves.

Clearly they had underestimated his love for exhibitionism.

Beetlejuice pulled them both closer as he aggressively smushed a sloppy kiss to Adam’s lips. Adam only resisted a little, shoulders slumping.

“B-"

He cut Barbra off by immediately turning and connecting his lips to hers'. It always caught her off guard when he was gentle. She gasped lovely and perfectly into his mouth.

“Beetlejuice Shoggoth.” Adam snapped, pulling him from Barbra.

Apparently he had underestimated Adam’s goody two shoe-ness.

“Getting in trouble for public… inappropriateness does not look good on a permanent record!” He hissed.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes, plucking himself down onto Barbra’s lap, “God Adam calm down. Why you gotta be so sexy.”

Barbra stroked his back while she giggled. She was still a bit dazed from the kiss, “We can have all the fun we want when we get back home.”

“Can we go now?”

Adam shook his head, “I’m setting the break time for ten minutes. That’s not really enough time to walk there and back.”

“We don’t even need to go back to someone’s room! There’s a unisex bathroom right there!”

“Absolutely not!” Adam’s face was a delicious shade of cherry red.

“Beetlejuice, darling, Adam said no.” Barbra stepped in, pressing her face into Beetlejuice’s shoulder.

“Baaaaaabs!” He whined, leaning into her.

“Don't babs me! How about you and I go for a little walk, clear your head, then we can knock out this essay?”

Beetlejuice had already forgotten about the essay. The reminder almost completely extinguished his mood.

“Yeah… okay. Adam, make sure no one steals our shit.”

Adam nodded, face still very red.

Beetlejuice stood up, clutching Barbra’s hand.

He didn’t spend a lot of time in the library. The last time he’d been there, he’d been stoned to the point that his roommate had had to give him a piggyback ride home. The time before that him and Barbra had taken a nap on the floor of the satanic cult book section. They’d been pretty hungover that day.

“Did you know there’s four floors?” Barbra asked as she led him to the staircase.

“Me and the library don’t really hang.” He mumbled back.

Barbra went on as if she hadn't heard.

“My lab partner told me that the fourth floor is haunted! Apparently there was some sort of smoke problem and a few people didn’t make it out. She said that’s why no one uses the fourth floor.”

“You know what?”

“Hm?”

“That sounds like the perfect place to make out.”

Barbra gave him an absolutely filthy grin, “Six minutes. I don’t want Adam to worry.”

Beetlejuice hurried his ascent of the stairs, eagerly pulling Barbra with him, “Six minutes is all I need!”

It was weirdly empty on the fourth floor, not that either of them was really paying attention.

They bee lined for one of the walls not lined with windows and Barbra was immediately on top of him.

They may have gotten a little carried away.

Beetlejuice blamed Barbra. She was fucking hot when she dropped the polite exterior and took what she wanted.

So fucking hot.

Really fucking hot.

Maybe too hot.

Beetlejuice stuffed his underwear in the bathroom trashcan.

He rarely went commando in a suit. The general sweatiness and chaffing made it a little uncomfortable, but today he would take it instead of the other option.

Beetlejuice rejoined Barbra at the top of the stairs. She looked a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly as they descended.

“Babe. Baby girl. Babs. I would do it again in a heart beat.” He gripped her hand.

It was a lot easier to think now, he had to give her that.

Adam looked surprised to see them, when they got back to their corner. “Wow. You guys were almost on time. Ready to get back into it, Beetlejuice?” Coming from anyone else it would’ve sounded sarcastic and patronizing, but from Adam it was genuine.

“No, but let’s do it anyway!” BJ snapped with fake enthusiasm, “Byzantine empire and how it fell, huh.”

Fell.

Like the way vending machines sometimes fell and crushed people. That was one of the many Die-o-ramas from that old Crash Bandicoot game. What was the name of it? Whumpa racing? The villain was that ugly whumpa guy, but there was also that green guy with a German accent that was probably an offensive German stereotype. What was the name of that game? Beetlejuice used to play it at his cousin’s house all the time. Lydia only played it sometimes. Her skills mostly lay in backseat gaming. Was it a one player game? He definitely remembered playing it with her, but he also remembered Crash being the only playable character. That was probably in adventure mode. God that game was great. Next time he was back in his home town he’d have to play it again. What was the name of that game though?

“Nitro…? Nitro racing?”

Beetlejuice realized he’d been muttering bits of his thought process out loud. Barbra and Adam were staring at him blankly.

Fuck it.

He pulled up a search engine and attempted to spell Bandicoot.

“Should we…?”

“Let’s let him find it, or else it’ll bother him for the rest of the night.”

Adam knew him very well.

Beetlejuice spent the next few minutes typing and scrolling and retyping while Adam and Barbra did their own things on their phones.

“TAG TEAM RACING!”

There was a reason the seats around them were empty.

“What a stupid fucking name! How’d they go from Twin-sanity to Tag Team Racing?”

“The 2000’s were a simpler time.” Barbra shrugged.

“The only reason Crash died is because he jumped on top of that shit. RIP to Crash, but I’m different.”

“What?” Adam closed the tab, “Wait, no, never mind. BJ, you need to get back to your essay.”

Beetlejuice huffed. It was only…

He looked at the clock. It was already past ten.

“Holy shit! It’s almost midnight! I thought you guys were gonna fucking help me!”

“W-“

“Wait, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Sometimes I lash out at others when I’m really just disappointed in myself… and by sometimes I mean always.”

“It’s okay, Bee.” Barbra rubbed his back comfortingly.

Adam picked up the abandoned notebook, “Yeah we know school's tough, but you did come to us for help. Acknowledging your problem and accepting help is the first step to improving.”

“Didn’t know this was an AA meeting.”

Adam couldn’t help but smile, “Okay. How about you type up these notes then we can start incorporating the rest of the sources into the body.”

Beetlejuice nodded. Typing in Microsoft word was baby work.

It didn’t take him long to do at all.

All he had to do now was read a bunch of stuff and type three hundred words.

“You finished the notes?” Barbra asked.

“Yeah.” Beetlejuice picked up the pen, clicking it idly.

“Alright so, what I would do is read through some articles and find parts that explain your topic. You can copy and paste them into the word document then we’ll go back in and rewrite a lot of it.” Barbra stared into his eyes as she spoke, ensuring he was listening.

“Find parts, copy and paste. Got it.”

Beetlejuice returned to the internet tabs. All of the articles had looked boring when he first flipped through them so, he picked one randomly. It was a lot of words in tiny font. He sighed, settling his chin in his non occupied hand as he began mentally scanning the page. Every time he began reading a sentence, his eyes would bounce to the bottom of the page and he’d lose his place.

“Would it be easier to read aloud?” Barbra more suggested than asked.

Beetlejuice glanced around at the steadily emptying library. If he spoke at the volume of an average person, only Adam and Barbra would hear him.

He pulled his eyes back to the screen.

“In three-thirty A.D the Byzantine empire was it’s title- dubbed it’s title by empire Con… Con- Constant? Constant. I?” He squinted at the words, “What the fuck.”

“Emperor Constatine the first.” Barbra supplied.

“Yeah. That…. He it- wait, fuck. He declared it New Rome on an Ancient…” Beetlejuice lost his place for a moment.

Refusing to submit to dragging his finger across the screen and forgetting the highlight feature of the mouse, he took a good minute to find his place.

“Ancient Greek colony.” Beetlejuice hated fucking reading. It took him so long to read that one sentence.

He blinked and scrubbed at his tired eyes.

“You’re doing great, bug!” Adam chirped, rubbing his back.

Beetlejuice wanted to call out Adam for lying, but he couldn’t. The compliment and acknowledgement of how hard he was trying, felt good.

He gave his eyes one last hard rub, before resettling in his seat.

This was going to be a long ass night, but at least he knew Barbra and Adam would be there to help him through it.

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment is All We Are (5.1/?)

This chapter is REALLY long so I split the text ver into 2 parts for Tumblr. 

AO3 link: here

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Story type: Romance/Drama/comedy

Pairing: Dazai x OC/reader (Dazai is endgame, fic is long-running and will also feature Kunikida x OC)

OC (Kusunoki Kyou) and Ability are based off of "The Story of Your Life," written by Ted Chiang, aka the basis of the Amy Adams movie "Arrival."

Rating: M for Blood/violence/themes of depression, anxiety, suicide TW: The second half of this story will deal more heavily with themes of suicide, depression/anxiety. *No major character death will occur*

Story follows OC as she joins the ADA, partners up with the detectives to solve various cases around Yokohama and develops feelings for Kunikida and Dazai (Dazai endgame).

Written for those who want an immersive ADA experience :)

Updates every Sunday evening around 6pm PST

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It wasn’t always like this.

Okay, maybe it was.

For as far back as I could remember, the visions had always been random, random events I would see of the future. If I was in physical contact with someone, the visions would be from their future. If I wasn’t, then the visions would be from my own life. Sometimes when I was really stressed, the visions of my future would actually come in the form of a dream, like in manga or novels.

Perhaps that was the best way to explain how The Story of Your Life worked; it was like taking out a book, keeping a finger against the pages and flipping until that finger finally caught on a single page. Then, flip open that page and read the first paragraph that jumps out; the book was the person’s life and the paragraph was the event, a single scene from that person’s future that I bore witness to.

The visions didn’t always show me death, blood and despair.

In fact, the very first vision I had was that of a puppy—a cute little thing my friend Kiko gifted me at my fifth birthday party. I must’ve seemed shockingly unsurprised (and possibly rude) to Kiko and her parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I’d seen her giving me this puppy half a year ago.

In retrospect, the puppy vision had been great. Sure, it took some of the fun out of a surprise gift but it was still a vision about a puppy. Honestly, if my visions were nothing more than glorified versions of baby animal videos, I’d be perfectly fine with that.

Maybe then, I wouldn’t be left with this overwhelming fear of my own Ability.

I used to be able to touch people, shake their hands, and hold them. In the beginning, “The Story of Your Life” only activated with a prolonged touch...

At first, “prolonged” meant more than ten seconds. That meant getting to play tag in kindergarten, going over to friends’ houses and having sleepovers. Normal stuff. My life didn’t even change all that much when ten seconds shrank to seven some time around middle school; I was able to play contact sports and go out on shopping trips without incident. Seven seconds became five halfway through high school. Again, no need to make lifestyle changes. I could still hold hands with friends, so long as it didn’t go on for too long and I was still able to have my first kiss without seeing even a hint of my boyfriend’s future.

And then, college. Five seconds was no longer doable. It became three at best and just before I’d become a shut-in, even an instantaneous touch was enough to trigger my Ability. By then, however, I’d gotten pretty used to having the visions, so I remained relatively unbothered when I’d see a vision of the barista breaking up with his girlfriend when I got my morning coffee. In other words, managing my Ability was no big deal.

Or so I thought.

About six months ago, my visions went from being an occasional distraction to a panic-inducing nightmare. I still wasn’t sure why...

Maybe it was just luck of the draw. I’d only seen good things, mostly, for the first ten-plus years at least: faraway cities, weddings, and graduations. Every once in a while there would be a failed exam or a lost wallet but overall nothing too out of the ordinary for an otherwise regular teenager to see.

Maybe it was just a sign of the times. As I got older, so did the people around me, so the more likely it was that they were entering that phase of their lives where things could start to go south. Or perhaps their previous lives were just catching up to them.

Or maybe, it was karma finally catching up to me. I’d be lying if I said that I’d never used my Ability for personal gain before. There were a few exams I managed to ace with the help of a well-timed touch of the hand and a few pitfalls I’d managed to avoid through a combination of sheer luck and a decently fast reflex. Perhaps six months ago, whatever granted me this power finally decided that I had a good run and it needed to end in the worst way possible...

And it all happened so quickly.

I never had much control over my visions to begin with and they never really bothered me before but suddenly, they were invading every part of my life—and with each vision I saw, the accuracy increased. My dreams became more vivid than ever; I would see things that had yet to occur and before I moved out, my college roommate would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my screams. I started passing out in the middle of class if someone so much as tapped my bare shoulder and when I came to again, it would be a minute before I remembered where I was and what I was doing. I was starting to consider seeking some kind of help until one day, I finally saw my first death.

It was horrible. I was at dinner with friends on a group date and I hit it off with one of the guys. He wanted to take me to the movies that weekend, and being relatively new to college and Yokohama in general, I agreed. Then, smiling, he’d held my hand just a millisecond too long and I saw it: him getting hit by a car while crossing the street.

I tried not to think about it too hard. Sometimes the vision were wrong. There were times when they’d been off by just a fraction of a second and because of that, I still had hope. Maybe there was a chance that things could change last minute, either by a miracle or by someone’s sheer force of will. But as time passed, my anxiety grew. He was running late and I didn’t like it. Finally, I spotted him at the intersection and, frantic, I waved him down just as the “walk” sign lit up and he started crossing the street.

That’s when it happened.

A single black vehicle, no license plate, ran a red... and ran into him.

I would remember seeing his body flying into the air for the rest of the semester.

After that, I started taking an alternate route to class, just to avoid going anywhere near the part of campus where he’d died. It wasn’t that people were whispering behind my back or accusing me of having a part of it—I just couldn’t handle the memory.

That was the first death.

The first.

It was as if some kind of floodgate had been opened. I had never seen death before that day but after...? Death became all I saw. I briefly shook hands with a foreign exchange student and immediately saw an image of a middle-aged woman lying in a hospital wing. The woman had been the student’s mother and I heard she died a week later. I could not have been responsible for the cancer that claimed her life but I spent weeks feeling guilty about it anyway. There was another incident where I accidentally, and literally, bumped into my English teacher on the way to class. I saw his brother being hit by a bus downtown. His death was announced a month later, on the morning news. When I saw it, I broke down in the middle of the cafeteria and my friend Eri had to take me home.

And it just kept happening.

I became afraid to touch people. I began wearing longer layers during the summer months and started keeping to myself. When even a brush of the hand or bumping into people on public transit could trigger a vision, I started wearing gloves. I got a lot of stares on the subway for wearing itchy winter gloves in the subtropical heat and the knitted fabric made gripping the overhead handholds difficult so I ended up changing to disposable nitrile instead. I got less stares for that but unfortunately, I eventually had to give up public transit entirely when I got squished between two tourists and had a panic attack in the middle of the car.

But giving up public transportation put me in a tough spot. My dorm was pretty far from campus and I didn’t know how to drive. If I really wanted to, I could walk but that would take far too long and make for far too many chances to see another person’s death. And I really didn’t want to ask anyone for a ride because that would just mean more questions and more explanations I wasn’t willing to give.

And yet somehow, I managed to make it work for a time, waking up early to go to class, avoiding hangouts in-between classes and running back to my dorm as soon as I got a chance. But I was still attending classes with lots of people in a crowded lecture hall and living with roommates in a dormitory building. Ultimately, the stress of trying to avoid people while also trying to keep up with increasingly difficult classes caused me to start having nightmares. They were frequent and they were bad. And I knew that these were all things that would someday happen to me: me and a friend being held hostage in an abandoned apartment building, a woman in a suit and sunglasses pointing two machine guns directly at my face, a man didn’t recognize growing steadily colder in my arms as I screamed for him not to leave me...

That following morning, I woke up sobbing—crying as if I wished I was the one who had died instead. When my roommate tried to comfort me, I jerked away out of instinct and immediately realized I’d made a mistake.

And that was it.

I couldn’t it take any more.

About a week later, I left the dorm and found myself a tiny studio apartment, one that I could still afford on my shoestring budget and more importantly, one where I could live completely alone.

Soon after, I dropped out of college and became a shut-in. In true shut-in fashion, I shunned all contact from classmates and friends in case someone came to visit and decide they needed to barge in because they couldn’t—shouldn’t—do such a thing. My apartment had become both my sanctuary and my jail. So long as nothing changed around me, none of the horrible visions would come to pass.

Thankfully, a month into my new lifestyle, the nightmares stopped.

So long as nobody came near me, I wouldn’t have to witness another death with my waking eyes...

I still remembered the night I decided to stop going to class. It was the same night I looked out the windows and saw my own reflection, touched my fingers to my face and pulled them away, confirming that it was indeed blood and not salt tears that dripped down my cheeks. I started avoiding mirrors from that day on and threw myself fully into watching anime, joining fandoms and drawing commissions, anything to distract myself from the invasive, self-destructive thoughts that grew stronger whenever I looked into a reflection of my own eyes.

Yes... Staying was the only solution. If I never stepped out of the apartment again, the world would be spared the sight of my hollow eyes and bloody tears... And I—I would be spared the curse of witnessing things I should never have seen to begin with.

***

“So you’ve been holed up in your apartment for the last six months doing...”

Kunikida frowned, tapping his pen against his chin.

“What exactly? Rent in Yokohama isn’t cheap. How have you been supporting yourself?”

“Commissions,” I explained. “I started watching a lot of anime and playing video games and fans pay good money for drawings of their favorite characters, original characters or even pictures of themselves in a stylized form.”

Summing up my Ability meant practically telling these two my entire life story, not just recalling the events of this morning, and I had to commend the detectives’ patience for sitting through what I would’ve considered a pretty long-winded explanation. Now I was even telling them how I’d stretched my budget and supplemented my allowance.

I held out my hand.

“If I could have some paper and something to write with, I could show you, if you like...?”

Dazai immediately ripped Kunikida’s notebook and pen out of his hands. Ignoring his partner’s protests, he held them out to me and, throwing his arm out to keep Kunikida from taking back his own things, sat back to watch me draw. Within seconds, a coarse outline appeared on the pages, followed by facial features: eyes, nose, hair—a minute later, I handed back Kunikida’s notebook, a quick, rudimentary pen sketch of each detective on its two open pages.

As one, they leaned in to stare at it.

“This is pretty good,” Kunikida said, looking up at me. He squinted down at the page, tracing the lines with his fingers, mumbling, “Does my hair really look like that?”

“It is... isn’t it?” Dazai agreed, rubbing his chin.

As Kunikida puzzled over the drawing, a mischievous glint appeared in Dazai’s dark eyes.

“Kusunoki-san... Have you ever considered a career as a sketch artist?”

At once, Kunikida shot him a warning look.

“Don’t even think about it, Dazai,” he growled, “Making decisions without the President’s approval—”

“I’m not making a decision, only a suggestion,” Dazai declared. “And what’s wrong with a good suggestion?”

“Dazai...”

Ignoring Kunikida entirely, he turned to me.

“Really, I don’t know how we survived like this for so long. We’re a detective agency, one of the best in the city and yet, we don’t have a sketch artist... It’s a shame, don’t you agree, Kusunoki-san? What do you think? Interested in a change of career?”

“Wait... are you asking me to join you?” I asked warily, looking from one detective to the other. “Why would you want someone like me? I can’t fight. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

“I’m asking you,” Dazai said pointedly, “if you would be interested in becoming a sketch artist. I mean, it just so happens that we are in dire need of one—(“No one said that!” Kunikida roared)—and you happen to have the exact skill set we are looking for! Not to mention you’re an Ability User... Just think of all the people you could help.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking away, “Wouldn’t someone like me be more of a burden than an asset? I can’t even control my Ability, much less use it to help people—”

“But what if you could control it?”

I froze. Having had no control of my Ability for my entire life, the possibility hadn’t even occurred to me...

“There’s a way?” I asked, looking back up just as Dazai’s grin turned into a triumphant smirk. “How?”

“I could tell you,” he drawled, his smirk growing even wider, “But it’s a closely guarded secret. You’d have to join us if you want to find out... Of course, I’d be more than happy to vouch for you if you’d like to apply—”

“Dazai—!! You—!”

Kunikida was on his feet.

“We can’t just offer a job to every stray Ability User we rescue from the Port Mafia! Atsushi was one thing but—”

“Oh my, so you’d be perfectly fine sending a nice girl like her back into the jaws of the Port Mafia? Really, I thought better of you, Kunikiiiiiida-kun—”

“That’s not what I said!”

“So you agree, we should take her in?”

Kunikida’s face was in his hands.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but it’s not our decision to make! And besides, she’s clearly been through enough, what makes you think she would agree to—”

“I’ll do it.”

Kunikida’s mouth dropped open. He looked stunned.

“You will—? Wait, no, I never said I agreed—”

“Let me apply,” I said, looking him firmly in the eyes. “I want to help people. I’ve always wanted to. Isn’t that what you do here at the Agency? Use your special Abilities to make their lives better?”

“That’s true,” Kunikida admitted, folding his arms over his chest, “But this can be a dangerous job. Especially for a non-combatant. You almost died today! Why do you want to help people so bad? In fact, let me ask you...”

His eyes flashed from behind his glasses, his expression fierce.

“Why did you go so far for a neighbor with whom you weren’t particularly close?”

I glared right back.

“I had to save her.”

“But it sounds like you already did, when you pulled her off the sidewalk—”

“That’s not good enough!” I burst out, startling Kunikida. “How could I say I saved her, truly saved her, if I knew she was going to die in a week and I did nothing to stop it?”

My hands clenched into fists.

“That doesn’t count. Saving someone means seeing it through to the end, to fully committing yourself and doing what’s right! Isn’t that what you did for me? What both of you did to bring me here today?”

Kunikida was struck dumb. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dazai got to his feet.

“I think it’s about time I take Kusunoki-san back to her apartment,” he said, making his way to the door, his long tanned trench coat swishing elegantly as he moved.

He patted Kunikida on the shoulder.

“I’ll let you think about what we should tell the President later.”

Kunikida instantly flushed an angry, embarrassed pink.

“Dazai, you—”

Ignoring his partner, Dazai called out to me.

“Kusunoki-san? I won’t be taking you back to your original apartment tonight. We’ll be going to one of the Agency’s safe houses instead. After everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Port Mafia had staked out your building and had someone ready and waiting for you at home. And if you’re wondering, Yamazaki-san is on her way to her nephew’s place in Nagano, so you won’t need to worry about her.”

“But what about my things?” I asked, “What am I gonna tell the landlord?”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Dazai replied, opening the door for me. “Shall we?”

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and a Brewing Fire Part III

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

A/N: here we go, I’m sorry for hoarding this chapter for so long, I actually had it 95% finished before Spring Break, I just needed to add a couple of paragraphs and revise. But here it is now and I’ve already started in the next chapter. As always let me know what you guys think, Good, Bad, or otherwise, it really helps me as a writer. Also just another reminder this is a SLOW BURN story, so yeah the actions pretty liteeeee

PART ONE - PART TWO

~*~

You awoke to the sunlight pouring into your bedroom. You weren’t quite ready to get up yet so you shrunk back into your pillow, attempting to pull the covers over your head but they wouldn’t move. You tugged a little harder but they wouldn’t move an inch. You cracked an eye open only to be met with the figure of your late night guest sleeping peacefully beside you. He also was the reason you were currently unable to retreat into your blankets, his enormous figure taking up most of them.

You took a moment to examine him. He slept on his tummy, face buried into his pillow. You knew he had to have been in an incredibly deep sleep because his durag was sliding off his head a little. You reached over and adjusted it for him, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up. He didn’t even twitch.

You decided now was as good a time as any to get up since it looked like you weren’t gonna be going back to sleep any time soon. You pulled back the covers then suddenly remembered you’d slept in just your underwear and a T-shirt. You grabbed some real clothes from your drawer and made a b-line to the bathroom to get dressed.

Once you were presentable enough to not have bacon grease pop on your bare thigh, you headed downstairs to cook some breakfast.

You had no idea what time Nebraska fell asleep last night so you couldn’t really tell if you should wake him up for breakfast or let him sleep through. The snow was falling at a steady pace and starting to really build up outside.

You decided to cook a vegan omlette with spinach for breakfast. You went ahead and made two, just in case Nebraska woke up hungry. He could always just heat it up.

You’d barely got them out of the skillet and onto the plate when he came trudging down the stair.

“Good morning sleepyhead, you’re just in time for breakfast.” You said setting down both plates.

“Morning,” his voice was still heavy with sleep. He walk to the cupboard to get himself a glass of water, chugging the whole thing then filling up another.

“How’d you sleep last night?” You asked cutting at a piece of the omelette.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he said rubbing his eyes as he sat down.

“Well they say ambiance is everything. Wish I could’ve put on my ‘Rainstorms’ playlist, that’ll really knock your out.” You rambled taking a bite of your omelette. You glanced at your phone, realizing it was later than you thought. With the snow picking up outside you’d probably need a little extra time to get to work so you decided to go ahead and start getting dressed. You trashed the remainder of your breakfast and headed to put your plate in the sink.

“You’re finished already?” Nebraska said eyeing your now empty plate. Your pretty sure this was the first time he spoke to you without you prompting him. Progress.

“Yeah I gotta go get ready for work,” you said turning around to wash your plate.

“At the museum right?”

“Yeah actually! How’d you know?”

“Your uncle told me. He talks about you a lot.”

“No embarrassing stories I hope,” you chuckled. The corners of Nebraska’s mouth turned upwards slightly in an almost smile.

“The museums closed today isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“It was on the News.” Of course he would be the type of guy to watch the news. You quickly called your boss, her phone ringing three times before she finally picked up.

“Hello?” She said gruffly.

“Mrs. Tilly? It’s Y/N,”

“Ooohhhhh Y/N! Hello dear how are you?”

“Fantastic. Is work cancelled today?”

“Oh you don’t know? There’s supposed to be a major blizzard rolling through tonight. Don’t you watch the news?” If you could express your eyeroll through the phone, you would.

“No Mrs. Tilly, I didn’t catch the news this morning,” you deadpanned.

“Oh well the museum received notice per the City Regulations Department that all public facilities, the museums and schools alike, were to be closed for the rest of the week. This is a great opportunity for you to get some rest dear, you’ve been working so hard lately on those new exhibits, take some time for yourself for once ,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you Mrs. Tilly, stay safe,”

“You too dearie!” You hung up the phone and headed back to the kitchen.

“Apparently the museum is closed. All week in fact. And I had so much work to catch up on,” you sighed, looking in the fridge to survey the amount of groceries you had left. You hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while because of how busy you’d been at work but you definitely were going to have to make a trip if being snowed in for the next 3-4 days was a possibility.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to make a quick run for groceries and supplies, would you like to go with me?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Sure,”

~*~

An hour later you and Nebraska were piled into your car and driving into town. With where your house was, it was about a 20 minute drive just to reach the entrance of town. You turned the radio up, hoping to kill a little bit of the silence but a new rendition of Jingle Bells was all that sounded through the vehicle.

“Sheesh it’s still October,” Nebraska muttered sinking into his seat.

“Not a big fan of Christmas music?” You asked, eyes on the road.

“Nah, not really .” You changed the station. Mariah Carey singing “We Belong Together,” took its place.

~*~

“Okay so almond milk, oatmeal, tofu, r-“

“Can I ask you something?” Nebraska chimed in as you read off your grocery list while the two of you strolled down the aisles.

“Of course, ask away,”

“So being vegan was a personal choice or is it a health thing or-“

“I’m not vegan.”

“Not?”

“At all.”

“Ohhhh,” he looked down awkwardly and you smirked.

“What? You don’t like my cooking?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It’s just... um.... different.” He nodded, a small smirk playing at his own lips.

“Well if you don’t like it then tell me what you’d like me to cook then,” you chuckled continuing down the aisle.

“Maybe we cou-

“Y/N! Oh it’s been so long!” You and Nebraska turned around to see just who was calling for you.

It was none other than Tonya Manning, Principal of Dauntley High School, the only high school in town. She would routinely bring her students to the museum once a semester for a field trip, which she’d always set up and coordinate through you.

“Principal Manning, it’s great to see you. I’m assuming they cancelled school today?” You smiled as she came in to give you a hug.

“Oh no they cancelled all schools two days ago. Don’t you watch the news?” She said releasing you.

“Apparently not enough,”

“Oh hello! You must be Y/N’s man she’s been hiding! I’m Tonya Manning,” Tonya said holding out her hand. Nebraska politely took it.

“Nebraska Williams. And we’re.... not... like that.” He said obviously uncomfortable.

“He’s just a friend, Tonya. He’s taking a little vacation from the military right now so he’s staying with me.” You chimed in.

“Vacation from the military? How long you in town for?” Damn this woman was nosey.

“Couple months, don’t really have a solid time frame.” Nebraska spoke but you doubted Tonya heard a word of it. She was looking this man up and down as if he was a ribeye steak and she was a starving Cayote that hadn’t eaten in weeks. You knew he was good looking but apparently you weren’t the only one with working vision in this town .

“Well, we actually have a position open at the school. Our current JROTC coach is in his 80s and could use a strong, young militant like yourself to help get the kids who wanna serve in shape. The JROTC program is getting bigger and bigger each year and we really have to start expanding.” She smiled digging in her purse to pull out her business card before giving it to him.

“Give me a call sometime and we’ll set it up.” She bit her lip and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes ma’am,” Nebraska smirked and you began to realize whatever chance Tonya thought she stood might actually be mutual. You couldn’t really blame Nebraska, she was pretty, tall, had curves in all the right places and had even extra backside she retained curtesy of her two kids she had by her exhusband. Any man would go for her the same way any woman would go for him.

“Well it was nice seeing you again Tonya, call me soon and we’ll get that museum field trip in motion,” you spoke up sweetly to interrupt the giving each other bedroom eyes.

“Of course,of course! Bye Y/N, see you soon, Nebraska,” she smiled coyly, causing him to give a little wave. You could puke all over the both of them.

“So.... lets go get milk,” you smiled sweetly heading down the aisle.

~*~

The two of you were back home a couple of hours later, putting up groceries, or rather you watching Nebraska bring in and put up groceries while you attempted to help put away the small stuff.

“Are you hungry? Want me to make dinner?” You asked putting away the last of the groceries.

“No! But um thank you, I’m just not hungry.” You might have actually believed him if his stomach didn’t grumble the second he finished talking.

“Do you really hate my cooking that much?” You asked in a small voice.

“No! It’s not that! I just- I mean- you-“ he was at a lost for words and you couldn’t help the small smile that broke out across your lips.

“It’s okay, we just ate anyway so we’ll hold off on dinner for now,” you chuckled, getting a glass of water.

“Yeah we uh... just ate,” Nebraska glanced at his watch with his eyebrows furrowed. You headed up to your room and decided to get a head start on getting ready for bed since you’d be sleeping in Nebraska’s room tonight.

You really were genuinely happy he got a good night’s rest in your room. You would just take the necessities with you tonight but if need be, you could always switch rooms with him completely, it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to rearrange the two rooms.

Once out the shower and dressed for bed you decided to get as much work done as you could on your laptop for the new exhibits at the museum. Time must have slipped away from you because before you knew it, there was a light knock on your door, followed by Nebraska entering. He was dressed a bit more modest tonight, opting for Sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Too early?” He asked, closing the door behind him. You glanced at the clock on your screen and saw it was already 9:30 p.m.

“Not at all,” you smiled warmly. You saw a small smile grace his lips before he adverted his eyes, smile still playing at his mouth.

He hopped into bed in the exact same spot as the night before, damn near on the edge of the bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful of your side but you didn’t really see the point since you wouldn’t be here anyways.

“You can come lie in the middle of you want, you don’t have to sleep on the edge,” you said shutting your laptop and getting up to set it on your desk.

“Oh okay,” Nebraska mumbled, inching closer to the middle. You continued over to your oil diffuser and set the scent on Lavender, your favorite fragrance to get you to sleep. You then connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker in it and set your Quiet Thunderstorms playlist going.

“Too loud?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“It’s perfect,” he muttered in that deep voice and you felt your cheeks heat up. This entire situation could be taken out of context and be used in the most romantic daydream, but you had to snap yourself out of it. He was simply a guest of your Uncle. You had no right to look at him in such a way, he didn’t come here to be harassed like that.

“Well then in that case, Good Night and Sweet Dreams,” you bid your adieu and turned the lights out, leaving only the soft everescent glow of your fairy lights illuminating the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nebraska asked right as you were about to shut the door behind you.

“To your room?” You said turning around.

“Why are you going there?”

“Because we’re switching rooms so you’ll sleep better. You said last night was the best nights sleep you had in a while so if my room had anything to do with it, consider it all yours.” You smiled but he didn’t notice. You saw that something was clearly bothering him.

“I did say that. Okay, well uh, Good night then,” he said gruffly and you left but the whole thing was awkward. Did he not want you to sleep in his room? Where did he expect you to sleep? The couch? Not that you couldn’t but that’d get pretty old after a couple nights.

You settled yourself into Nebraska bed, still cold and perfectly made, feeling like it hadn’t been touched in 2 years instead of just 2 days. You couldn’t resist burying your head into the pillow, trying to catch the faint scent of his cologne but it wasn’t there. You were damn near exhausted earlier and now you found that sleep eluded you.

You been staring out the enormous window when you heard the door crack open.

“Y/N? You still up?” Nebraska whispered, well as much as his deep tenor would allow, while peaking his head through the door.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Can, um, can you come... back?”

“Back to my room? You changed your mind already? I thought the atmosphere helped you go to sleep.”

“It wasn’t the atmosphere that was soothing me to sleep...” Nebraska trailed off and suddenly you knew exactly what he meant.

~*~

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[momentofmemory]

it’s almost the end of october, which means one of the greatest, most terrifying exploits known to writers is upon us: NaNoWriMo.

there are plenty of super good survival posts out there, but as this’ll be my seventh time participating (six wins, hoping for a seventh), i thought i’d drop my own set of tips into the mix. i’m going to focus mostly on the practical details of how to write; if you want tips on the writing itself either search the writing/reference tags or pester me to do another one later :P with that said, ~on with the post~

Step One: Figure Out Your Goal

i know, i know, obviously it’s to write 50k, but what does that mean to you? are you expecting

polished prose, ready to send off to a publisher?

being able to write every day? 

just throwing up a bunch of ideas?

a mix of everything?

all of these are valid, but they’re going to require different approaches. if you want jaw-dropping writing, you’re going to need in the ballpark of five or more hours each day, if not more. if you want consistency, you’ll want to look at your normal schedule and set up a couple times you know you can write at. if just you want words, pretty much all you need to make sure is that you squeeze writing time in whenever.

your goal will probably change as the month progresses, and that’s totally fine. just check in every so often to remember a)what you’re working for and b)if it’s actually plausible. speaking of...

Step Two: Realize Your Limitations

1. Typing.

imma get super practical here: your typing speed dictates how fast you can get done. if you write 40wpm (the average), you cannot write the full 1667 in a half hour any more than you can run a mile in under three minutes. it’s honestly not a bad idea to check out your own speed, if only to help you understand yourself better. in my experience, actual writing then works like this (using my max speed, 89, as an example):

Absolute Max: 89 wpm (baseline)

Warring: 70 (75% of baseline)

In the zone: 45 (50% of baseline)

Taking my time, concentrated: 22 (25% of baseline)

anything lower than your max/4 probably means you’re spending a lot of time either researching or staring at the page, so just be aware of that.

2. Time & Focus

this kinda goes without saying, but best case scenario this is at least 1-2 hours of your life a day, or dedicating full Saturday/Sundays if you’re a weekend warrior kind of person. it’s so, so worth it if you can make time for it, but also don’t feel bad if you can’t! doing a half nano (25k) or whatever you want is also a fully acceptable plan.

that said, if you do have time, figure out your focus too. if you’ve never been the kind of person that can type for six hours straight, you will probably not magically become this person when it hits Nov. 1 (though with practice, you might be by Nov. 30). i like trying to write at least 300 before work and another 300 during lunch. that way there’s only 1k left for the evening, and having words on the page just makes me feel better. experiment with different ways of blocking out your time in the first few days and see what works best for you.

3. Don’t Forget You Live in a Body

writing is hard work, you will need to eat brain food! hunching over wrecks your back, stand up and stretch every so often! you will hate existing if you forgo sleep for days! and for the love of charles dickens, patron saint of getting paid by the word, take care of your mother-effing wrists!!

seriously on that last one. i’ve ignored it in the past and thoroughly screwed up my wrists one year; don’t be me. keep in them in a neutral position, do regular stretches, and if you need to, get wrist wraps (i recommend these).

Step Three: Actually Doing the Thing

the previous steps have had pretty broad advice, but now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty. these are mostly things i know work for me, and therefore may not for you—adjust to your own needs!

1. Write for 15 Minutes Every Day, Non-Negotiable.

i don’t even mean this is a “write 15 min and then your brain will be tricked into writing more” kinda way, but like, literally. you’re probably not going to be able to do 1667 every day—sometimes you’ll be tired and just won’t have the time. you’re very likely, however, to have 15 minutes, and you’ll want to use them. Doesn’t matter if you write 50 words or 500 in that time, at least you’ll have done something, and that’s usually enough to keep you from feeling like just giving up the next day.

2. You Might Need Physical Spaces

i’m a pretty sensory person when it comes to writing, and having a dedicated writing space is so helpful for me. going back to the idea of being an embodied person, it’s a lot easier to get your brain into a writing mode if your body’s already there. some good options include:

coffee shops (cozy! food!)

a specific room in your home (easily accessed! do what you want!)

libraries (free! quiet!)

a friend’s house (writing buddy! easy access to sounding board!)

all of these places usually have access to wifi, which is a positive.

3. You Definitely Need Digital Spaces

i pretty much always write in the same processor, once again because it helps set the mood. the main options include:

google drive (solid choice, cloud backup, mobile accessible)

dabble writer (cloud backup, links to nano, dark mode, chapter options)

write or die (only for actual writing—a scary but effective motivator; save elsewhere)

word/pages/etc. (ready to go on your computer, formatting options)

scrivener (great plotting tools, detailed interface)

i use dabble writer myself (they’re a nano sponsor, so you can get it free for this month, and as a double bonus you get it half off for the rest of the year if you win). and no, i’m not getting paid to wax poetic about them, but honestly i’ve used it to win the past two years and i adore it. 

anyway my biggest tip here is that i SUPER SUPER DON’T RECOMMEND NON-CLOUD OPTIONS. it’s very risky, but if you must, do a proper back up at least once a week. that shiz is not worth it.

4. The Timer is Your New Best Friend

because i’ve heard this argument before: no, it’s not a crutch, and no, it’s not cheating. it’s literally best practices. i’m personally a big fan of this online timer, and i let it run for 15 min every time i write. after each session i check how many words i wrote, then after maybe a quick 1-2 min break, start over.

you can totally set the timer for longer or shorter periods, depending on what works for you. i’m a fan of the 15 min sessions bc it’s just long enough to get a bit of flow going, and just short enough that i can convince my spacy brain that we can get through it without wandering. it’s also a fantastic length for warring, if you’re down for that.

5. Write That Idea Down for Lewis’s Sake

the original idea for the chronicles of narnia came to c.s. lewis when he was at a restaurant, and thank the lord, he wrote it down on a napkin. he wouldn’t write it until some time later, but if he hadn’t written it down, he might’ve forgotten it. why is this important, you ask?

BC YOU WILL FORGET THINGS.

if you have an idea, write it down in your phone or your notebook or the waterproof paper in your shower, because i don’t care how sure you are that you’ll remember it, you super won’t. i’ve forgotten many solutions to plot holes in my time and i still hold vigils over their graves. don’t be me. write it down.

Step Four: Managing that Inner Critic of Yours

all right, pay attention. i’m not going to tell you not to edit, because i would be a massive hypocrite if i did. i totally edit during nano. the important part is letting your editor help you win, not hurt you. and that means gaming your critic’s system.

1. Have a Dedicated Deletion Section

many people hear “don’t delete anything” and baulk, because for some of us it’s distracting and we want to rewrite that section until it matches our vision. so, i’m here to tell you: delete it!! rewrite entire chapters!! just save the original content as part of your word count. this is another reason i love dabble, bc at the start of nano i just make a separate part of the book, label it “delete”, and any time i’m writing and dislike a sentence/paragraph i just dump it into that folder and move on. this way you still get to keep the numbers (and why shouldn’t you? you wrote them!) while also writing words you actually like. plus, sometimes that line you deleted in ch. 1 winds up being supremely pertinent in ch.15, and now you can just copy/paste it instead of having to try to remember what exactly you’d said.

2. Acknowledge Ranting as a Time Honoured Tradition

think there’s no precedent for that 2K diatribe you wrote on the london underground? well fear not, because you can’t possibly do worse than hugo’s entire chapters worth of content on the french sewer system! or melville’s frankly terrifying obsession with the finer features of whale biology!

like, yeah, maybe you’ll decide later you don’t need it, but for now, embrace that soap box. dead white guys have been doing it for centuries and still get places in college syllabi. the least you can do is give it a place in your word count.

Step Five: Have Fun!

i know, i know, it’s cliche, but seriously. if this isn’t fun, or at least rewarding, why are you doing it anyway? so enjoy it! send passages you’re proud of to your friends! daydream about it in the car on the way to work/school! cry over a notebook about the twist you just came up with! nano’s a time of fun and exploration, and you shouldn’t miss out on it because you’re thinking too much.

also, this might be counter productive to put at the end of an essay on nano, but don’t obsess over reading essays on nano :P there comes a time when one must simply do, and nano is pretty much the definition of that.

[kweebtrash]

Could you make a drabble with Johnny masturbating while thinking of Eri? 🤭

I already did this in Ch. 3. So i decided to do a masturbation scene with phone sex, teasing, dirty talk, Johnny being really desperate and needy?, and a smidge of daddy kink. So like I hope that’s ok? Also in Johnny's POV(obvs).

[9:45pm]

Wyd?

I typed out my favorite three letters in hopes of enticing her enough to come over. I had no idea why but the feeling of her beneath me while I fucked her hard was suddenly stuck in my brain. It had been all I could think about for the past half hour and I couldn’t quit. I imagined pinning her legs down with mine and laying my body over hers which made her look smaller than she actually was. She would almost always squirm against me, shoving her ass back to take me deeper and I just-

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: not you. Bye

What?? Now I would have to spend extra time convincing her. God, fuck my life. 

C'mon baby. I'll really make it worth your while

🦇BattOuttaHell🦇: yah I'm sure🙄 I'm busy

Doing what?

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: none of ur business. I'm busy

Jesus did I really have to beg? I bet she wasn't even doing anything. It’s fucking Tuesday night. Who does anything on a Tuesday?

Please baby? I can't stop thinking about you

Girls liked that shit,I didn't they? I mean...it was actually true though.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: BWAHAHAHAHHA

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: lmao ur that desperate huh baby boy?

I'm not desperate 😑 just horny

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: hate to break it to ya but horny and bugging me is you being desperate

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: srsly tho I'm stuck studying for an exam I know jack shit about. I'm screwed

You can also be screwed if you come over

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: pls die

Why are you so violent all the time?!!

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: bruh violence is my middle name

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: sry but it'll just be u and ur hand tonight

I groaned because I really really didn't want that. I would much rather have her squeezed around my cock and hear those soft breathy moans she made all the time. She would always hold onto me then, maybe dig some scratches into my back as I went as deep as I could go. I groaned in frustration and wanted to throw my phone but persisted. I was going to regret typing this and was already cringing but I figured I had to pull out the big guns. We were still trying this whole thing out but a test drive wouldn't be so bad.

Princess, daddy really needs you

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: oh my god Johnathan

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: 🚫🛑✋

I thought you liked that???

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: I do

The ellipse signaling her response bubbled for awhile and I wondered what the hell kind of paragraph she was writing.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: princess has to study. I'm srsly gonna fail😭😭

Just a little break? Please??

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: daddy with you it's never a "little break"

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: ull keep me there for hours and then I won't sleep and then I'll be tired and then I will fail

I sat up a little straighter staring at that word. It had a much different and more profound effect on me when she wrote it. I didn't cringe; instead I felt it deeply seeded within the base of my cock and it made my hormones go into overdrive. I quickly typed out a response hoping to make the conversation a bit more...dirty.

That's for sure

You know how long I can go and how weak you are for me when I've been inside you for hours.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: I mean it's alright ig

Goddamn it! Why was she like this? She was such a frustrating little shit!

Bruh I'm just tryna get off ok? If you're not gonna come over can you at LEAST help me out a little??????????

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: wtf you want me to do? Sext you??

I mean it's better than you being a dick to me

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: aww baby boy wants to whineeee

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: u are pretty much begging at this point

I rolled my eyes hating that she was kind of right.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: good thing I like to hear men beg for me

Oh shit. Did that mean that I was getting closer to her helping me? It was probably one of those kink things. I thought for awhile if I should actually swallow my pride and do it some more just to get her to participate. I was going to feel like an idiot but at least I'd be an idiot who came. I sent her a snap of me pouting with the puppy filter trying to be cute enough.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: ur an idiot u know that right?

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: anyway idk how to sext?

What do you mean you dont know how to sext? You just do it.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: well i’m not gonna say stuff your cock in my pussy thats fucking disgusting

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: also im a writer so it’s just gonna come out weird

Try me. You can like describe what you like me doing to you. Anything.

I set my phone down and waited for her to respond. It wasn’t that difficult. I did it all the time but i wanted her to start. I just wanted to hear her instead of being wrapped up in my stupid fantasies. I looked down at the bulge in my sweatpants and sighed. If i got started now then I would keep getting interrupted and have to wipe my hand off every time. I set my pillow over my head and hoped that if I suffocated myself enough then I wouldn't have to suffer any longer.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: this is not going to be sexy at all lol

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: but i seriously love when you grab my hips and use it to fuck me deeper. I love how much you stretch me open, how much you fill me and those grunts you make when youre close

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: i love when youre fucking me from behind and press yourself into my back and pin my wrists down. You make me feel so small and wrapped up in protectiveness i guess? Or maybe possessiveness. You usually bite down on my neck and shoulders when youre like that. The hickies are a pain in the ass to cover but i love looking at them afterwards and feeling how tender they are. It makes me remember the ache and how i cant wait to fuck you again.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: is this ok?

Fuck. yes. I typed out as soon as my phone vibrated with her response.

Shit, i couldn’t believe just her typing something could get me even harder but i could feel myself throbbing beneath my sweats. I wanted her to keep going but I needed to get off before i couldn’t take it anymore. I dared to call her and hear her seductive but shy voice. I dialed her number and hoped to God she would answer.

"Are you trying to have phone sex with me?" She asked instantly.

"15 minutes." I panted. "Take a break for 15 minutes."

"No more than that. I really have to study…"

"I promise, baby. I promise." I shoved my sweats off, keeping the phone between my ear and shoulder, and grabbed the base of my cock. The first stroke was slow, steady, full of yearning and as it turned out desperation. Precum was already covering my head and making a mess but I used that to my advantage. It added slickness to my strokes, easily letting my palm slide up and down my shaft. "Please just talk to me."

Her voice seemed to get a little lower. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything." I bit down on my lip for a moment as my hips lifted into a particularly rough jerk. "I just want to hear your voice."

"I want to hear your moans then. Those pants, the groans, those little growls. Don't hold back, Johnny."

I set the phone on speaker so I could keep it beside me and have more freedom. "Ye-yeah. I won't hold back trust me."

I gripped onto the blanket beside me, trying to remind myself that I needed to use those fifteen minutes to my full advantage. I knew with how much of a brat she was, she probably already had a timer going. I slowed my strokes a little bit, giving my fingers time to roll over my head and dip into my slit. I breathed out a soft pant as I focused everything on how sensitive I was. With each stroke of my fingers I imagined Eri on top of me, grinding into my hips and taking every inch I would give her. She looked so utterly gorgeous, like a fucking goddess every time she smirked down at me or set her hands on my chest to steady herself. Why was she so damn perfect?

"A little louder Johnny. I want to really hear you or else I'll hang up."

"N-no." I choked out. "F-fuck...I'm just thinking about you!"

My fist was trembling around the blanket as I could hardly hold back. I squeezed my hand a little tighter around myself trying to replicate the way she clenched around my cock. It wasn't exactly the same but damn near close.

"Hmm? Thinking about me? What am I doing to my baby boy?"

“Riding me! Fuck you’re riding me so fucking good.” I groaned louder than I expected. My thighs were starting to tremble just a bit and i dug my toes into the mattress. I was bucking even harder than before, The thoughts of her were driving me crazy; her voice was adding to it all and those coy little giggles made it even worse. I wanted her so fucking bad.

“Do you want to cum?” She breathed out. 

“Yes.” I growled deeply. “Eri...shit…”

“You’re super cute when youre begging. Do you think I should let you?” She teased.

“Oh, i’m going to, whether you let me or not princess. What daddy says, goes.” i released another growl and gripped my balls with my other hand, squeezing them in a chaotic dance of pleasure and need.

“Not when daddy calls princess begging to fuck. You can hold out a bit longer. I deserve to hear a few more moans.”

I let out a growl of frustration. “Eri.” I said sternly. “I swear to god…”

“Say my name like that as you fuck me from behind.”

I tossed my head back into the mattress as the vision popped in my head instantly. My hand stroked at an ungodly pace as i felt my release approaching fast. I was a mess of feelings and sounds, drowning in my own lust and letting my body fall into every awakened nerve. My muscles tightened and i felt warmth rush over me. My breathing deepened as I squeezed out the last few ropes of cum that splattered all over my stomach. My hand was drenched as well and i flopped back, sighing as i knew i had so much to clean up. I picked up the phone with my clean hand and took her off speaker.

“14 minutes, 39 seconds. Good job.”

“I knew,” I licked my lips and tried to steady my breath. “You were fucking counting, you evil little shit.”

“Whhaaatttt! I have to get back to studying! Except I might have a little fun myself.”

“Are you kidding me? After I asked? God, i cant stand you.”

She chuckled and I could just see that devilish smirk on her face. “Mhm, whatever you say. I have to get going now. Have fun cleaning up.”

[hystericalrogertaylor]

Reconnecting (Chapter Twelve)

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Word count: 2529

Summary: (Y/n) and Roger have been friends since the cradle. When they’re suddenly pulled apart and reconnected years later, they both can tell that the relationship has evolved. They lead very different lifestyles now. Can they continue what they had, or go for something more, with this gap between them?

Warnings: A mugging (violence), cussing, drinking, mentioned sex

A/N: I did not combine the names of my two doctors to make the doctor’s name in this chapter...nope...not at all... Also, I’m sorry if the gif doesn’t move on a computer, I don’t know what’s up with it. And on mobile it may look like one big block of text but there are paragraph breaks! I’m sorry it looks so awkward, I’ll try to figure it out.

Master list

(Not linking the Spotify playlist because Tumblr’s been having issues with Spotify or something. Either way, it’s not working.)

~~~

You were struggling, mentally and physically. Mentally because your life was not where you wanted it to be and everything seemed to be going wrong. Physically because you were stumbling down the streets, trying to remember how to get home. You only realized half an hour after leaving the bar that you probably should’ve let John help you home. You were so out of it at that point, however, that you didn’t even hear the footsteps of the men behind you.

“Hey,” one of them called out threateningly. You turned around, trying to focus your vision on what was in front of you. “Give us the bag.”

“What?” you slurred, still not understanding what was happening.

“Give us your bag!” a short, angry man yelled.

“No!” You hugged your purse to your chest, backing away slowly. “No, it’s mine!”

One of the men, the tallest of the bunch, stepped forwards and grabbed one of the straps, yanking on it as hard as he could. Being drunk and weak, you lost your grip on it, falling forward onto your knees from the force of having the object yanked from your arms. One of the men kicked you in the ribs before turning tail and running away with the others.

You lay there for God knows how long, groaning in pain and trying to contain your tears. You didn’t want anyone to find you, fearing the worst could happen. Eventually, you pulled yourself up with the help of a bush, this time limping on towards your house.

When you finally arrived, you slammed the door shut and slid down the wall, finally letting out all your tears. You could feel that your ribs were bruising, and taking a breath in hurt. Not to mention you were without all of your cash, ID’s, credit cards, and key to get into the studio.

You phoned Freddie’s house about an hour later, after finally having been able to calm down. “Hello, Paul Prenter speaking, Freddie Mercury’s house,” the person on the other line said.

“Paul, I need to talk to Freddie.” You yawned, the alcohol and crazy night catching up to you.

“He’s busy, (L/n),” Paul said, clearly annoyed. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Freddie,” you said, slurring your words together again.

“No.” With that, Paul hung up on you.

You sighed, flopping down on the couch. The rest of the band was likely asleep, meaning you couldn’t call them for help getting into the studio tomorrow. Well, you knew Roger was most definitely not asleep, but you didn’t want him to pick up the phone in the middle of having sex with some random woman.

You decided to just go to bed; you’d figure it out in the morning. You stumbled into the bedroom, getting under the covers without even taking off your day clothes. James stirred, but you thankfully didn’t wake him.

While Roger was sharing a bed with some one night stand, you were sharing a bed with James for the first time in forever.

---

“Who was that?” Freddie asked, looking over at Paul. The two of them had gone back to Freddie and Mary’s flat after things at the bar had calmed down. They were watching a movie and getting more drunk when they got your call. Freddie and Mary had been laughing too hard at something to be able to hear Paul say your last name.

“No one.” Paul sat back down, unmuting the movie.

Freddie frowned. “Well, it couldn’t have been no one if they have my number.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “It’s no big deal, (Y/n) just wanted to tell you she’d gotten home safely.”

“All right…” Freddie was skeptical. He made a mental note to call you back once the movie was over. But he never got the chance; he passed out five minutes later.

---

Roger did end up having sex with the girl. Her name was either Amanda or Amara, he couldn’t remember. He sat at the foot of his bed, smoking a cigarette while she was fast asleep behind him. All he could think was that the experience was so unspeakably boring.

He’d done this countless times before. How many women had he brought home and done the exact same thing with? They’d want the same type of boring, everyday sex, which was fine with him at first, but now it all felt wrong. He felt like there was something better he could be doing with his time.

The entire time, he also couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, like there was something in his life he needed to fix. But he couldn’t pinpoint it. He only realized as he smoked that cigarette what it was. It was things with you.

He hadn’t seen you leave the bar, and the empty pit in his stomach was the anxiety he felt. He had seen you take those shots, and he knew you’d be drunk. He wanted you to be safe. He acknowledged that he’d been irrationally angry, and going and finding a woman just to spite you made him kind of an asshole. Okay, a supreme asshole. The king of the assholes.

“Rogieeeeee,” Amanda/Amara suddenly whined, drawing out the last syllable. “Rogie, come back here. Let’s do that again.” He looked back and saw her sitting up, sheets pooled around her waist, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, turning back around. “Not interested.”

She slowly crawled over to Roger, hugging him from behind, making sure one of her hands landed low on his stomach. “C’mon, babe. While the night’s still young.” She leaned her head down, biting his neck, no doubt leaving another mark.

Roger groaned, rolling his shoulder back to push her off. Amanda/Amara sat back onto the bed, letting out another whine. “Why nooooot?”

“Because I’ve got shit to fix.” Roger stood up, not even bothering to put pants or boxers back on. He flew into his living room, picking up the phone and dialing your phone number as fast as he could.

But you didn’t pick up. Because you were asleep. Roger slammed the phone down, putting his head in his hand with shame.

---

You managed to get to the studio first the next day. You wanted to be there when the next person got there, so they could let you in.

That next person ended up being John. He looked relieved to see you alive. Without mentioning last night or the way you were still limping, he unlocked the door and walked with you into the studio.

Brian came next, and then Freddie, which was strange. Freddie never arrived before the rest of the band. Where was Roger? You knew the answer, but just didn’t want to admit it.

Roger walked in almost an hour late. He had a coat on, a scarf around his neck, and a small bouquet of roses in his hand. You tried to avoid looking at him and the scarf, which you knew was covering various hickeys, but the roses caught your eye. He hovered awkwardly by the door for a few seconds before shuffling over to you. He held out the roses to you, not making eye contact. “These, um...these are for you.”

You blinked, grabbing them out of his hand. “Um, thanks. But, why?”

Roger sighed, actually looking at you now. “Because I feel bad. I was a jerk last night and you didn’t deserve to be snapped at like that.”

You smiled, setting the roses down on the couch and standing up. “How thoughtful, thank you Roger.” You opened your arms, inviting him into a hug.

He breathed a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around you tightly. However, he squeezed in the wrong place on your back, causing your ribs to flare up with pain. You yelped, falling back into your seat with his arms still around you.

Roger took a step back, frowning. “What? What happened?”

You put a hand on your ribs, taking a few deep breaths. “Ugh, if that guy cracked my rib--”

“What?” Roger asked more insistently. “If who cracked your rib? Did James--?” The look in his eyes could kill.

“No,” you answered quickly. “No, not James. I was mugged, but I’m fine.” You slowly leaned onto the armrest, trying to ease the pain.

Roger’s eyes went wide, and he looked like he was trying not to cry. “W-when?”

“After I left the bar last night.”

Roger nodded, pressing his lips together. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Just my dignity.” You tried to laugh, but Roger didn’t want to play along.

“Guys, I’m taking (Y/n) to the hospital,” Roger stated to everyone else, reaching out a hand to help you up.

You chuckled. “Rog, I’m fine, trust me. I’m not in too much pain if I don’t mess with it. Or shower.”

“Remember when we both broke our arms when I fell out of that tree?” Roger asked suddenly.

“Um...yeah?”

“You ran for help, even when you were in excruciating pain. You helped me. And now it’s about time I helped you.” He grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Awww, how adorable!” Freddie practically squealed from the corner of the room, a large, toothy smile on his face. You smiled while Roger rolled his eyes at Freddie’s antics.

Roger helped you off the couch and assisted you out into the parking lot. The two of you took his car to the nearest emergency room. He helped you into the building, because the pain had slowly gotten worse since you’d gotten up that morning. You checked in, told the receptionist the problem, and waited for a tech to call you back for a CT scan and X-ray.

Your best friend stayed with you the whole time. He stood off to the side, with a heavy shawl draped over his whole body to protect from radiation, as you got the X-ray, and stood right next to you, in a similar heavy garment, talking to you soothingly while you were sent into a large donut for the CT scan. You felt a million times better with him there next to you.

You and Roger waited in an exam room for what felt like forever. Finally, a doctor named Dr. Hinton came in, holding the results of your X-ray and CT scan.

“The X-ray didn’t show us anything,” he explained, “which is a good sign, it means nothing is seriously broken. The CT scan, however, showed us a couple of fractures. Nothing terrible, but you’ll still need to treat it. We recommend some pain meds and icing the area as much as you can. Does it hurt to breathe?” You nodded. “Okay, well, you can’t be afraid to breathe deeply. You need to do that so your lungs don’t get weaker, you could get pneumonia. Try not to do too many strenuous things, you could make the injury worse. Come back and see me in a week.”

You and Roger then took a trip to the local drug stores to get one of those ice bags people use in cartoons when they injure themselves, and then to a grocery store for a large bag of ice. Roger filled the ice pack in the parking lot before gently placing it on your abdomen area. “There,” he whispers. “Feel good?”

You nodded, putting your hand over Roger’s and holding the ice pack in place. “Thank you so much for helping me,” you said, looking up at him.

He gave you a sad smile. “My pleasure. I’m sorry I acted like a dick last night. I just...need to learn to control my temper.”

“Took you twenty-six years to figure that out?” you joked, nudging him in the arm with your other fist.

Roger nodded, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, you’d think I would’ve gotten it before this.” He moved his hand to your face, kneeling down so he could be more level with you. “You know I care about you, right? I know I can be a whiny little bitch at times, but I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

You smiled, grabbing his hand and holding it. “I know, Rog. And I greatly appreciate you and everything you’ve ever done for me.”

Roger sighed, pulling his hand away and going to sit in the driver’s seat of his car. He started the engine, driving off towards his house.

---

The two of you sat on Roger’s couch, cuddled up together, watching a movie while you iced your rib. You couldn’t help but wonder, as you sat there happy as could be, if this could be your life. He’d kissed you, you could tell he had feelings for you. But could you actually date a person like Roger Taylor?

“Hey Roger?” you asked.

“What’s up?” he responded, suddenly more alert. “Do you need more ice? Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m fine.” You slowly repositioned yourself so you could see his face. “I was just wondering...just...what am I to you?”

Roger blinked, as if he didn’t understand the question. “Well, you’re my best friend.”

“No, but...do you want me to be more to you?” When he still looked confused, you kept talking. “I mean, we kissed at that bar the other night, I was wondering if that meant you wanted a different kind of relationship with me.”

Roger thought about it for a second. “I mean, that sounds nice, but you know I’m not stellar at dating.”

“I know,” you answered. “But, if you really like me in that way, then maybe you’d be more willing to try?”

Roger sighed. “Probably not,” he admitted.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut. “But...why not?”

You could tell he was getting agitated. “I don’t know! Because...ugh. I’m too rowdy for you. I party too hard and have too much sex and drink and smoke too much, while you’d rather stay home and drink some warm tea and read a book. We weren’t meant for each other.”

You blinked your tears away. “Roger, that’s crazy. If we both like each other, we should be making an effort to see if we could make a relationship work!”

Roger shook his head. “There’s no point. Eventually, you’re going to get tired of having a boyfriend who comes home at four in the morning, drunk and horny, all the fucking time.”

“Better than what I’m dealing with now!” you shouted. As the shock registered on Roger’s face, you tried to smooth over what you’d just said. “Let’s not fight, we just made up. Let’s just watch the movie. Forget I said anything.”

Roger looked like he was going to blow up again. He sat back, taking several deep breaths. “Do you want to stay over tonight?” he asked suddenly.

You sighed, leaning over onto him again. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I suppose.”

The two of you sat in silence. The movie played, but neither of you were interested. He was busy thinking about how he’d just fucked up, and you were too busy scolding yourself for having such a foolish dream of a life with Roger.

Taglist:

@thessxoxo @roger-bang-the-drum @slavsher  @sabbrriiinnaa  @i-ship-it-ironically @blissfully-queen@oyoke@borhapqueen92@girlpluto@secretsweetscollectionblog@bentaylorrogerhardy @16wiishes@emmieliabedelia @onevisionliz @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank

[highbuttonsports]

Nova Scotia: A Lacrosse Powerhouse?! A blogging attempt

What’s up everyone? Millsy here. I always knew the day would come when I would stop doubting myself and actually give this writing thing a try. I’ve always loved to do it.. and while I don’t usually share my writing with others, I have been complimented on the work I have shared. I have always found it to come naturally to me. I’ve told my wife in the past that I’m going to make a living off of writing… “that requires you to start writing something” was her last response. Touché.

So here I am, shooting my shot. No experience, not a clue at all. I’m just hoping I spell everything correctly and use some decent size words. But before I do dive into this and without sounding too much like a life coach. Please don’t doubt yourself! If you’re reading this and you want to pursue something, please pursue it. It’s what I’m doing right now! You can be your own worst enemy if you let yourself. Regret is an ugly thing and I hope that this helps someone else…So if you’re still reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoy it. Let’s give this a friggin whirl wha?

I reached out to Justin at The High Button about maybe doing some blogging for the brand, after seeing a post that they were looking for people to do that type of content. I am looking to cover sports locally, at the amateur level and professional leagues as well. I love all sports and I thought I could tie my passion for writing into that. Hopefully I can post more of me rambling on so I can give some MLB picks and NHL as well. I’m completely obsessed with golf but don’t like to bet it for the most part. Tiger for the next two majors though..cash it in! Big cat baby let’s go!!

I’ve known Justin for some time now through Lacrosse. We both played locally in the minor leagues here in the Halifax region, myself for Dartmouth and Justin with Halifax Northwest. We played against each other all the way through the Metro Minor Lacrosse League and eventually in the Junior A league here locally, the East Coast Junior Lacrosse League (ECJLL). Growing up, I always knew who Justin was.. this kid Belly has some sick mittens with a lacrosse stick let me tell ya. Absolute sniper.

I definitely have been fortunate to see lacrosse from all angles. From playing the game until 21, then transitioning into coaching at the Junior A level. Most recently though I have been spending the last several years refereeing the game at the Junior and Senior level, along with all minor lacrosse. This game has exploded in this province and I thought I could shed some light on that growth. I’ve seen a lot over the past 20+ years of being involved with this great game. Going to try string a couple paragraphs together here about that journey.

I was first shown lacrosse by my father Kevan Mills. Big Millsy. What a legend. He showed me the game at a young age and I was obsessed right away. However back then in 1997-98 it wasn’t really a sport that any kid was pursuing as their main sport. Even in early teen years, it was always just the summer sport to hockey. A lot of the guys just picked up their sticks and went to the rink. I however could never get enough of it. My dad would take me when he was refereeing and I would always have my stick for in between periods to throw the ball around. This was when we had a six team senior league in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. I would go to the games for those ten minute intermissions so I could get a free floor to myself, I loved it.

That Senior league (MSMLL Maritime Senior Men’s Lacrosse League) was my first taste of high end lacrosse in the area. At single digit years old it was obviously the lacrosse I wanted to play when I got to be that age. What I failed to realize at that age is that the minor leagues were just not growing at the grass roots level. This makes it hard to maintain any sort of high caliber leagues. Eventually the MSMLL folded, and sometimes Junior A benches had no more than 10 runners on them. The bantam and midget leagues were scary. Dark times for high end lacrosse in Nova Scotia.

Guys like Steve Brown, Sean Harrison, Wayne Finck and Bruce Hamilton and many, many others deserve a lot of credit for keeping lacrosse on life support during those dark times. Those names were a huge part of my young lacrosse life and also a big part of why lacrosse has seen the growth it has here. If you would have told me when I was 15 or 16 that in 15 years Nova Scotia would have players playing for NCAA titles, top Canadian universities or in the top Junior leagues in Ontario, or that we would send teams to national competition and compete with Lacrosse juggernauts. Abso-fucking-lutley not! But here we are.

Year after year there are more players I am hearing about who are pursing lacrosse collegiately. Whether in Canada or in the United States. Either that or they exploring their options for better box lacrosse in Canada. Or both. This is ultimately putting Scotia on the map. In addition to the individual success, Team Nova Scotia is also always well represented at the national level. From Peewee all the way up to the Presidents cup (the Canadian national Senior B championship) along with sending multiple talented teams to the Founders cup in recent years (the Canadian national Junior B championship) having great success there, hosting the tournament in 2014.

With so many options available to these Nova Scotian players now; I’d like to highlight some of the local players who have taken their lacrosse skills on to get an education and play at the highest level they can.

Brian Huyghue:

Brian is product of the Halifax Hurricanes Lacrosse association. As an ECJLL alum, he plays his college Lacrosse as a senior attackman for the Divison II powerhouse Limestone College Saints in South Carolina. The Saints are 5 time DII champions most recently in 2017 in Brian’s sophomore season. In 2019 they came up short on a sixth title, losing to Merrimack in the national championship game. Brian tallied 28 goals and 24 assists in 21 contests this season at Limestone. Brian has an phenomenal outside shot, great stick skills and is very quick and deceptive in the way he beats defenders.

Jordan McKenna

Jordan played all his minor lacrosse for the Dartmouth Bandits. He was granted exceptional status to play in the ECJLL in 2016 as a midget putting up 34 points in 13 games. His true rookie season in 2017, Jordan spilt time between the Junior B and Junior A Northmen in Orangeville, Ontario. 2018 saw McKenna return to the ECJLL for 6 games notching a very impressive 40 points. The Junior A Northmen are lucky to have Jordan for the 2019 box lacrosse season. Jordan has finished his high school lacrosse this season at Westminister in Connecticut. He has committed to Bryant university; a D1 program in Rhode Island for the 2020-21 season. The Halifax Mooseheads also drafted him in the 2016 QMJHL draft. His lacrosse IQ and his vision on the floor make Jordan very lethal offensively.

Zac Carrigan

Zac played his minor lacrosse for the Sackville Wolves and is currently a member of the Sackville Sportswheels Junior A Wolves of the ECJLL. During the school year Zac plays his college ball as a midfielder for the Mars Hill University Lions. A Divison II program in North Carolina. During Zac’s sophomore season this year at Mars Hill, he was named an All South Atlantic Conference honorable mention. Carrigan tucked a team high 34 goals, adding 14 assists. His 48 points was second on his team in scoring. Zac is an excellent outside shooter and his offensive upside makes him a threat to score or create a scoring chance every shift.

This a just a small sample size of the lacrosse talent in this province. It’s insane. I referee all three of those players and the difference in their games since going away is amazing. American coaches have embraced the fact that Canadian players have a certain skill set that can be very helpful to the outdoor game. The three players above are prime examples of that.

I am not even mentioning the many players who currently; or have played at the university/college level outside of Atlantic Canada throughout North America. We also have some local players trying out…and making some of the best box lacrosse teams in Ontario at the Junior level. It’s been pretty cool to see our talent stack up with the rest of Canada, and now with American schools as well.

It’s been a hell of a ride watching this sport grow to where it is now. I’ve seen it go from not even knowing if we would have teams to fill certain divisions. Eventually it moved into having some select leagues and tryouts. More kids started playing the game, opportunities were capitalized on and so much hard work went into it. Currently our Junior A league now has six teams with one in New Brunswick, one in Truro and 4 locally in HRM. We have a four team Senior league again, the NSSLL. Which by the way is no joke. The word senior is misleading eh, these boys can BALL. I see you boys. Some of the best lacrosse you can enjoy for free. I will post more about this league but Tuesday’s and Thursday’s at the RBC centre in Dartmouth is serious lacrosse. The best players around over 21.

Some of the senior guys around here, and the odd junior player have even competed internationally in Prague, Czech Republic. The Nova Scotia Privateers are a travel team, that have been attending the Aleš Hřebeský Memorial Lacrosse tournament in Prague for over 10 years. This team has enjoyed great success placing second in 2018. Nova Scotia native Mitch Hannigan was named top goalie of the tournament in 2018 along with Matt Dunbar being named a defensive all star. Taking home a defensive all star in 2019 was former Halifax Northwest Rebel Jasper Goodwin. Local guy Luke Parker, and Coach Rod Humphreys deserve a little butt tap as well. Parker is a staple on the Privateers roster and a dominant senior player. Check out episode 197 of The High Button for his story. Humphreys deserves tremendous credit for his work with senior lacrosse, and making the Privateers competitive every year. So yeah, we’re competing globally now. I think that’s decent?

Also a huge shout out to the female lacrosse in Nova Scotia which is kicking butt at all levels! Way to go ladies. The peewee, bantam, midget and junior girls divisions have gotten extremely competitive. Female players from the area are now also exploring their options to play and continue their education. We are also competing nationally with Team Nova Scotia at most age groups for female. My oldest daughter is excited to get started! So awesome to see.

As if the growth of the game in this province wasn’t awesome enough, come December this whole damn city will be playing catch on their lunch breaks. December 2019 marks the inaugural season of the Halifax Thunderbirds. The National flipping Lacrosse League is here boys and girls! It was confirmed in February that Halifax is set to receive the NLL franchise which will be relocating from Rochester, New York. The Knighthawks have been very successful in Rochester winning three consecutive Champions Cups (2012, 13 and 14). The Thunderbirds are set to begin play in December at the Scotiabank Centre, where they will have 9 home games. With 9 games played on the road as well. This is monumental for the game of lacrosse in Nova Scotia. With all the success the province has had; I can only imagine what adding a professional team in our backyard will do for new registration. The Thunderbirds are pouring gas on an already fired up lacrosse community. I encourage all lacrosse fans new and old to get tickets and check it out. The atmosphere is amazing, they play music the whole game and of course serve booze. I promise you will love lacrosse when you watch it at this level and in this environment. Fun for the whole family!

So I guess if you asked me to describe the evolution of lacrosse over the last 20 years in Nova Scotia: I could have just told you it’s been incredible. But then I wouldn’t have gotten to write all this and embarrass myself. The state of the game is in a good place here, and I’m in a good place with how I’m involved with it. Officiating has given me a better outlook on the game. It puts a little money in my pocket but more importantly it keeps involved with a game that I love and has given me so much. Most of the coaches in the ECJLL I have either played with or against. Most of the players in the NSSLL I have either played with or against, and I love seeing the new faces come into Junior every year. I think most of the guys will tell ya that when I’m reffing the communications lines are open. Im going to always let you play lacrosse and deal with everyone the same. So yeah, I love how I’m involved, hope the boys love seeing me!

So there ya have it. My first attempt at any sort of writing for an audience. Hopefully that audience isn’t all related to me. There’s way more where that came from though. I’m hoping to turn this into maybe a weekly thing; to give you guys all that’s going on in local and professional sports. Feedback is much appreciated!

For now I’m signing off, thanks for scrolling.

Millsy

Jun 7th, 2019

[stillebesat]

Contained DVD Commentary Part 1

Alright!! Let’s do this crazy thing!!! :D 

Warning: Spoilers for the Fic Contained. 

Guide: Italicized words are used to show pieces of the story. Normal words are my thoughts. In later parts Bold Deleted Scenes can be found. 

Contained.

I actually got the idea for this story in the End of December of last year (2017) after I’d seen @brighter-side ‘s Secret Santa Fanart for @virgils-jacket.

I managed to write the first two and a half chapters of the story before I got...well stuck and distracted with other fic ideas and so ended up putting the fic on the back burner for the most part until June when I actively started working on it to post it. ^^;; When working on a fic, I usually have a temporary title for the fic, a generic thing that helps me to quickly refind the story if I have to take a break from it. Funnily enough...Contained never had another name. It’s what I called it from the very beginning and when it came to come up with a title and post it...I decided to keep it as so. It was rather fitting after all.

Chapter 1. 

Surprisingly enough, this chapter has remained mostly unchanged from what I wrote back in Dec 2017. I may have tweaked a couple of words here and there and added a line or two, but overall I wrote this chapter nearly as a stream of consciousness using the feelings that the image had invoked within and trying to describe the scene I saw in the fanart. Creativity. Cramped. Trying to Escape. Crying. Wanting to Get out. I also was trying to convey that he’s been stuck in the box for a while. So like the imagery I used like “worn nearly to the bone” was meant to convey that concept and show that Creativity isn’t one to give up right away. He’s been fighting. He’s trying to find the way out. He’s wanting to prove to the Masters that he’ll be good and that he can follow their rules. (He really can’t. He’s Creativity. Rules are hard for him, especially when they constrain him from expressing himself.)   “Please. His legs twitched, having gone numb long ago from being stuck in the same cramped position for ages. A relief really, because if his legs were numb, then they weren’t screaming at him to stretch them, to move, to run, to play.” This particular paragraph is actually a semi-call back to a memory I have back in Jr. High...I think I was in like 8th grade? (14ish years old) in a Geography Class I took. I wasn’t even actively participating in the conversation at the moment (I was distracted doing something else, probably reading, I read a lot when I was younger) but when I tuned into the conversation the Teacher was telling another student what would happen if they ended up getting locked in one of the cupboards that lined the walls.

-These were short ones, with counter space on top to put things on- and she (the teacher) was telling the boy what would happen if he was curled up in the same position for hours on end and how his legs would go numb, and would twitch and cry out in agony to switch position and yah… O.o It’s one of the odder conversations I’ve tuned into halfway through. I don’t even know what prompted the topic to come up, nor do I remember what happened afterwards. But that thought of being trapped in tight spaces and how your legs react to them has stuck to me through the years. ^^;;

Creativity winced, feeling the lashes across his back from his last attempt to ‘play.’ It had been too energetic, too ‘happy.’ Too...too creative.

I think out of all the lines in this fic...this is the one I would change. I used the idea that the Masters had whipped Creativity mostly to show that they weren’t nice. That they were cruel and willing to hurt him to get him to behave. It was probably also a callback to you know...Pioneer Little House on the Prairie times where Teachers could beat their students with a belt or a ruler for when students didn’t behave right and needed to be ‘corrected.’

I don’t know if that line fits quite right with the narrative I ended up with in the rest of the story, but the imagery was used to convey that the Masters were trying to Contain Creativity even when he wasn’t in the box. They wanted him to be still, to be quiet, to walk and not run, etc. They wanted a properly behaved well mannered child who would follow them without question and The Masters would take harsher means to see their vision of proper behavior sustained. (It wasn’t good for Creativities. They’re a wild bunch)

He’d struggled for so long to escape the boxes his masters had put him into. He’d done so in an effort to please, to show that he could do more, be more than the boundaries surrounding him.

This section was the play on the concept of “think outside the box.” Creativity thought the boxes were just a challenge. That the Masters wanted him to find ways to get out. That it was a ‘physical representation’ of the saying above, and if he could be creative and think his way outside of each box the masters would be pleased with how creative he’d been and they would allow him more freedom to express himself because he ‘did it right’ this time.

It took him far too long to realize that the Masters were putting him in smaller and smaller boxes because they wanted him to be contained and think inside the rules and structures they’d outlined and to not try and go beyond what the Masters had outlined. (this is a physical concept of the ideal that if there’s too many rules, Creativity won’t be able to find any loopholes and he’ll have to stick within the guidelines given to him) Creativity did end up realizing it. The chapter actually focuses on this moment of realization (after way too long fighting to come out without getting out of the box) that the Masters wanted him to be the exact opposite of who he is. Still and Quiet and Complacent. He’s still struggling with the concept “wanting out” but realizing he can’t get out. So maybe maybe if he’s good and still and quiet the box will be made bigger so he can at least ‘stretch out’ his limbs (exercise his creativity) without being ‘outside’ the box (the rules).

“Light.” He whimpered, his burning fingers rubbing once more against the walls. Just a little light. A break from the endless dark. Anything. A small pinprick would be more than enough.

This sentence is a double meaning. Creativity is craving actual light of the sun as he’s been stuck in darkness for ages, and being able to see helps his creativity to flourish.

Kinda like the concept that looking outside or stepping outside can help brighten one’s mood and spark ideas to come when you’ve been struggling with a project for a while. But it’s also bringing in the concepts of a “Spark of Creativity” or the “Magic” of the world. After all there are little sparks -ideas- that people can give to each other, and Creativities can use those sparks and create/bring to life the ideas contained within each spark. A small prinprick would be enough. Creativities thrive off of new ideas, they love playing with them and exploring multiple routes and the Masters have left Creativity without a spark to play with for so long that he’s willing to take anything. The smallest of grains of sand just so that he can...well be himself and build off of an idea no matter how bad it is.

Left with nothing to inspire him. Only nightmares to haunt him whenever sleep found him.

This line has the feeling of ‘more meaning’ to it when I read it. Like I know I had something in mind when I mentioned these nightmares. But do I have any idea currently what I was thinking when I wrote the line? Not anymore. ^^;; lol. But I suppose it’s telling that if Creativities are left far too long without creative stimulation that their ability to think positively diminishes and that they are more prone to nightmares as Creativities are Light. Their creations tend to create awe and hope and happiness in others and in themselves so Creativities often have more vivid dynamic dreams that can’t be considered nightmares. The nightmares the bad thoughts and fears and doubts come when there’s not enough inspiration, not enough praise to them, etc. I suppose the nightmares are a type of metaphor of the lack of praise/recognition. It’s their doubts coming to the surface when they’re asleep etc.

The masters hadn’t come to see him in fiveever.

Sometimes it’s little tidbits like this that can help the reader gauge when I was actually writing the story. Fiveever was used here because The Sanders Sides 12 Days of Christmas video had come out like...four days before I began this fic and I loved Roman’s use of “It has been like Fiveever” in the video and so incorporated the term in the story. ^^;; lol. The use of fiveever also shows that despite his best intentions Creativity is still rebelling against the rules against the Masters. If he was truly wanting to follow their guidelines he would have used forever, though since that’s not a ‘measurable amount of time’ the Masters would have been happier if he’d used a term like “a long time” (Since Creativity has no idea how long he’s actually been in the box) to express how long he’s been stuck inside the box. But nope. Despite his best intentions, Creativity is still trying to improve on the foundations of others. Using Fiveever because it’s bigger than FOURever and Five has to be better than Four right? (It also shows he’s still quite young, as you’re more likely to hear children making up words like that than older people)

After all, the masters didn’t need him. Didn’t need Creativity anymore.

This line here is mostly a comment on the school system. About the same time I’d been working on this fic I believe there was a bit of discourse on Tumblr, or at least I’d seen some tumblr posts about how much the Arts were being taken out of school in favor of the Sciences. (and it’s been something I’ve been aware of for years now. Shortening recess, less funding for theatre performances in comparison to sports ((High School Musical Reference There)) getting rid of all the ‘fun’ things to convince students that they need to focus on the maths and sciences and be productive in society’ etc. It’s a thing where people don’t realize that you need creative expression in order to balance out oneself. To be able to think creatively in those Sciences. You need both Creativity and Logic in order to have a good project perform well and be well received. And yah. Just a comment that people don’t think you need Creativity in order to succeed. When really it helps a ton.

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

[ehronlime]

Big Bad Con 2022 and Progress

(This post is a slightly modified excerpt from my latest newsletter, which you can subscribe to at https://perfect-hole.ghost.io/)

I made a trip to San Francisco for Big Bad Con 2022 at the end of October, thanks to their POC Scholarship programme. I had a really great time there meeting a whole bunch of cool people, including people who I've played games with online and fellow game designers from all over the world, playing some games (like Meanwhile, in the subway..., pictured), and also kinda last-minute filling in on a panel about the politics of violence.

One of the truisms of the games industries, be it board games, card games, videogames or role playing games, is that access to "the right networks" can really help a designer/artist/creator's chances at "progressing" in the industry. Traditionally, one of the biggest concentrations of these networks are during major games conventions, which means that being able to attend one or more of these conventions confers a greater chance of accessing these networks. Social media has changed a lot of those dynamics, not only by providing other avenues to access and maintain those networks, but also by highlighting just how malnourished those networks have been because they ended up excluding a whole spectrum of people who for reasons of distance, resources, prejudice and geopolitics were not able to make their way to these loci of connections.

Big Bad Con's POC Scholarship aims to address this lack by providing resources and opportunity to those who have not previously been able to access these networks. And it aims to make up for all that lost time by taking direct steps to connect these disparate networks together through programmes like the POC Meet and Greet, where diverse creators and those looking to work with them are encouraged to connect. It's a truly commendable effort, and has already borne various fruit. I am really, really thankful that the POC Programming team have this vision and drive, and have expended so much effort and care to make this work, as I and many others benefit from it.

One of the questions that came up for me multiple times in the lead up to and during the convention, was what does "progress" look like for me? In preparation for the POC Meet and Greet, we were asked about what types of opportunities we were looking for; during the POC Dinner, the programming team talked about their hopes for the future of the industry; chatting with other POC Scholars, we sometimes talked about what we were hoping to do or make after the convention. I saw so many different visions of "progress".

I used the scare quotes around "the right networks" and "progressing" in the industry a few paragraphs up, because I know that looks very different to different people. That's one of the outcomes of diversifying your networks: you'll get a diversity of aims and approaches. I know some people want to work on their dream properties, or get their work published with an established publisher, or build their own self-publishing outfit, or make something that would finally get out something they've wanted to express for a long time. All with their different goals and views on progress. What, then, is mine?

Sure, in the short term I am very happy to look for help in getting Spectres of Brocken finished and out to people, but what more do I want to do? What's my "five-year plan"? I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest. I've always just done the next thing that I wanted to do.

While I've been thinking about this, Twitter looked to be imploding, so I decided to look back on some of the things I had written about game design and try and salvage them in case the site disappeared. It was pretty interesting to see how some of my thoughts have changed over time, and what seemed to stay the same throughout. I figured, then, if I can't articulate a clear plan for my future in game design, maybe I could at least figure out my principles and work from there.

Well, what do you know? Turns out I had already done this, kinda. I had written up a manifesto of sorts this year, and the final two statements there could be neatly re-purposed into a vision of progress:

I want to be as honest as I can for as long as I can with as many people as I can

I want to help others make games the way they want to make them, if they would have my help, the same way others have helped me

Is it that pat, that easy? Maybe. Thanks, past me, I guess.

But wait a minute, how do you turn those vague statements up there into actionable steps? How do you turn vision into direction? Boy, I sometimes really am annoyed that I have a background in project planning because I can't just rattle off points from some "manifesto" and call it a day. So here, for me, for now, this is how I am measuring my progress in game design:

Make tangible steps to be able to make games where I am happy with the creative direction - this means working on self-publishing games sure, but also building up and maintaining resources such that I can choose what projects I commit to (having a steady source of income to keep up with creative work, having alternate sources of income that still allows enough time for game design, building up trust with collaborators so I can be open about any issues I might have, finding collaborators that I can trust)

Make tangible steps to help build a strong cohort of designers with my peers - this means maintaining and improving on stuff like Playtest Zero, helping out with resources when I'm able, passing on any opportunities or advantages that might come my way. This isn't just some altruistic rah-rah "we're all in this together" feel-good statement. It's selfish in a way, because I truly believe that having a strong peer group will make me a better designer as well. I want to get good feedback in playtests, I want to have a deep pool of potential collaborators, I want design colleagues who will challenge me and encourage me, and I think the best way to have that is to build that together (so there's sunk-cost fallacy haha).

[bi-careful]

Star-crossed

(Also on ao3) The evening settled quietly, with dimmed lights and gentle greetings, soft kisses and a mouth-watering aroma wafting through the open space as their dinner was almost ready but still waiting in the oven. Kara sat on the couch, legs outstretched and resting atop the coffee table, her laptop in front of her while she typed away her latest piece for CatCo Magazine’s next issue. It was quiet and comfortable, an easy atmosphere to settle in and relax.

Her right hand was busy playing with Mon-El’s hair, brushing and swirling and tugging at strands, as the man in question was slipping in and out of sleep. Earlier, he’d pushed a cushion against her thigh and pulled on the blonde’s fingers until she’d gotten the message and started toying with his dark locks, and he hadn’t uttered a word since then. Kara kept stealing glances at him, checking on him, humming soft melodies every now and then whenever he got twitchy. She didn’t know how he’d managed to fit his giant form in the space she’d left available on the tiny couch, but he’d curled up and he’d found his spot and oddly enough he didn’t look out of place at all. So she let him nap like that, touching and caressing and stroking at his skin, not only because it calmed Mon-El down, but also because Kara herself needed the comfort. She needed the constant reminder that despite everything he was there, he was hers, and the world hadn’t managed to ruin this after all.

“In the second paragraph, the last two lines sound a bit too subjective, you might wanna smooth those out,” Mon-El mumbled, easing out of his slumber with a hoarse voice and a reluctant flatter of his eyelids. He pushed further into the blonde’s touch but otherwise stayed still, enough so that Kara had to look at him to make sure he really had woken up.

“I thought you were asleep,” the Kryptonian replied and stroked Mon-El’s cheek with her thumb. She just couldn’t bring herself to stop touching him it seemed, she craved to feel him, even in the subtlest of ways.

“I was but you tend to read out loud when you edit,” he said, no sign of annoyance in his tone. With a deep inhale Mon-El turned to lie on his back, pressing a soft kiss to Kara’s hand in the process.

“Sorry,” the blonde apologized sheepishly. She looked at her screen one last time before she nodded to herself and closed it shut. Then she placed the laptop aside and focused on her boyfriend who'd turned his blurry gaze toward her. "You hungry?" she asked and tried to stand up. Mon-El held her in place however. Kara raised an eyebrow at him, expressing a question without speaking, and when her boyfriend simply continued to stare at her, she rolled her eyes. "Love you," she mumbled and leaned down to press a quick kiss to his waiting lips. "Come on now, I'm starving," she urged and didn't wait another second, instead rushing to the kitchen with a grumbling stomach.

Mon-El smiled at the sight and lifted himself up in a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and let a noiseless yawn escape his mouth. His ring sparkled and glistened in the brightly illuminated room, the carved comet on top of it leading his thoughts back to the blonde. It was inevitable. A minute later, when he met her in the kitchen, he took her hand and intertwined their fingers, toying with her -previously his- own Legion ring briefly. Then he kissed Kara's cheek and whispered his response to her previous statement. "Love you too," he said.

Silence filled the space once more. The pair shared shy smiles and quick pecks and stolen glances, they danced around the room as they set the table, and finally they sat down to have dinner. Kara observed Mon-El, a hand resting on his thigh, squeezing occasionally, and she didn’t miss the way his eyes kept wandering, his focus wavering and weak. He offered her more bites than he saved for himself, and although that was a habit the heroine knew Mon-El had had from before, Kara couldn’t help but notice the way he pushed his food around as if he couldn’t even stomach the sight of it.

“Babe?” she called softly, her lips pulled down in a frown.

”Hmm?” came the absentminded response.

“You okay?”

Mon-El’s brows furrowed at the question, his teeth pressing down on his bottom lip. “Of course,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “Just tired.”

“Are you sure?” Kara tried again.

Mon-El forced a smile upon his face, one he hoped looked convincing enough. "I'm sure," he lied.

"You're not..." the blonde started, a hand lifting to brush her hair away from her face. Her voice faded so she cleared her throat and tried again. "You're not regretting staying here with me, are you?" she finally managed to ask.

"What?" the word escaped Mon-El's mouth before he could stop himself. "Kara, no," he emphasized, reaching for her hand.

Gently, he pulled her to him and Kara willingly followed his lead. She stood and slipped into his lap, her eyes hesitant to meet his own, her lip trapped between her front teeth. "You've been distant," she whispered, fear and insecurity thickening her tone.

"It's not-" Mon-El shook his head at her words. "It's not because of you."

Kara nodded slowly, not believing him but also not knowing what else to think. She'd just gotten him back but instead of overflowing with burning passion and unexplainable relief, she felt like she could barely breathe. It wasn't entirely bad, because for the most part it was his presence that left her breathless—it was his eyes and his touch and his voice and his smile and everything about him she'd missed too much. But still, there was a part of her which stood on edge, walking on eggshells and unable to find contentment.

Only a week had passed, since they'd said their goodbyes, to the ones who didn't belong in the 21st century and the ones who didn't belong on Earth. Only a week had passed, since they'd promised each other a kind of commitment only a desperate kiss had been able to seal, and they'd turned a different page, ready to build something new. It wasn't long, not at all, and their wounds were still fresh, the war still vivid in their minds. But they were pushing through that all, together and reunited at last.

Nevertheless, they still hadn't figured out their rhythm or their rightful place in each other's lives.

Kara continued to watch Mon-El, waiting for him to say more, to give her the answer she was seeking. But most of all she was waiting for him to put her at ease, because she was tired, and she just wanted to fall into him, no guards, no fears, no uncertainty staining their hearts. She wanted to get his full permission that it was about time she could love him again, freely and honestly and without holding back. So she waited, for him, like she'd been used to for the past year.

"I have these memories," Mon-El began, face twisting in confusion, struggling to put his thoughts in order and then into words. "It could be a dream but it feels-" he paused and licked his lips. "It feels too real."

"What kind of memories?" Kara asked quietly, eyes searching Mon-El's, a thumb caressing the skin at the nape of his neck. She wasn't sure if she was trying to sooth him or her own self, but she took a deep breath and awaited his response.

"You're on your knees, Reign has an arm around your neck and you're struggling, and then suddenly she's out of control," he explained, his tone heavy and unsure. "She's screaming and I watch her heat vision pierce through Sam and...and your mom," he gulped and avoided Kara's gaze. His fingers twitched and he wanted to wiggle in his seat, but the blonde sitting in his lap prevented the nervous action. "And then she goes for J'onn and I just...I react and she hits me instead of him. I think that's when I die," he finished.

Kara's brows furrowed in response, her lips twitching and pursing as her tears threatened to escape. "That's not a dream Mon-El," she whispered to him, broken and shaky and every bit as helpless as she'd felt when his dull memories had been real. "It happened, all of it, and I couldn't save you."

"But-" Mon-El tried but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. "But how?" he wondered instead, hands squeezing Kara's waist on both sides. The tips of his fingers were white but he didn't care, he just wanted to feel her. He couldn't hurt Kara anyway.

"I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't quick enough. And I watched her take you away from me, all of you," Kara said, shivers running up and down her spine and weakening her already feeble resolve. "Sam, my mom, you," she finished with a sob and then clenched her eyes shut. "I lost you," she cried and something in her tone told Mon-El this time the last word was in singular form.

Mon-El blinked, repeatedly, Kara's truth overwhelming him for a second. The blonde fell into his hold, and he let her, squeezing her tightly against him. "I'm alive," he whispered soothingly. "I'm here, I'm alive," he said again, not knowing how else he could steady her trembling form.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I had to save you, I had to go back in time and fix it, I had to," Kara gripped onto him like he was her lifeline. If he were human, she'd have probably broken his ribs already, but Mon-El didn't feel a thing, only her desperation and pain.

He shushed her and prompted her to look at him, Kara's eyes reluctantly meeting his own. "I understand," he told her, "I understand."

The blonde released a shaky breath before Mon-El spoke again.

"All this week, I've been so afraid my dream was some kind of premonition, that Reign would hurt you and I'd be too weak to help, too slow to save you. I thought I was going to lose you," he shared, a weight lifting off his shoulders as the confession slipped out. He realized how wrong he'd been all along, how it wasn't about Kara but him, and he didn't care past that point. He didn't care as long as Kara was safe, as long as she was protected. So Mon-El smiled, real and relieved and light at last. "Everything is going to be okay," he said. "As long as you're safe, we're gonna be fine."

"I can't lose you," Kara replied, one last shiver passing through her body, one last tear rolling down her cheek.

Mon-El wiped the drop away, still smiling at the blonde. "I'm here," he reassured. "I'm yours."

Kara didn't speak, didn't reply with words. She cupped Mon-El's face, staring right into his eyes, losing herself into the storm they held, and she kissed him. It was salty and it was greedy and it was desperate. Perhaps it even hurt a little. But she kissed him like she had never had before and never would again. She chased his warmth, his taste, his sweetness, like they were on a run and she needed to catch him. And she devoured him, cherished him, like he was a treasure and she'd spent all her life trying to discover him.

"I chose you," she mumbled against his lips, a promise she'd made long ago, before she had found him again. "I chose you," she repeated, mostly because she needed to convince herself that she had corrected her past mistake and less to convince Mon-El. "I will always choose you, I can't lose you again."

"You won't," Mon-El made a promise of his own, and he meant it, even though he knew the world would do everything to force him to break it. He didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't think, for a few long moments. He just looked at Kara, took her in, remembered all the tiny details about her he had almost forgotten. And he found, in that frozen moment, in the rhythm of her racing heartbeat, all those things he'd been missing for the past seven years. He found her.