#and if you want to make guesses about any of the snippets I'm down for that too lol

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON’T YOU | Q. HUGHES

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: maybe emotional cheating?

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! I was rewatching desperate housewives and a certain scene encouraged me to write something similar. It was supposed to be a quick little Drabble/blurb but im at 10 pages now and still not done. So here’s a snippet :)

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Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different colour every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew, he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

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[physics-of-one-piece]

Since I did what Doflamingo does/says in I'll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) (Rosinante x Reader x Doflamingo WIP) I bring the aforementioned brother from the title and a snippet (which is before he dies but I wrote it and nearly cried, so I thought it was worth a share) with him:

Some NSFW mentions in the bulletpoints but nothing descriptive:

Gets into a first bath in a month with Law and bathes him, trips on the floor getting out the bath

trips and falls in his own house in a hurry to get the medicine for Law's fever

most softest 10 foot lover in the One Piece World but he absolutely can rock your world

always careful with his big hands

never holds himself to intimidate while home

has fun coloured sweaters and fun shirts

your favourite outfit of his is his blue dress shirt and white pants, he looks so FINE in that 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 also his marine uniform without the coat 🫠

watches you fuss over Law and cries

he kneels down to hug you, and always loves getting his hair ruffled by you

peppers you with kisses when he comes home

removes make-up and makes Law scream thinking he's Doflamingo

"Did you think my actual name was Donquixote Corazon? Cutee~"

when asked by Law who you are, Rosinante blushes, smiles goofily and chuckles, saying "She's... my wife."

insulted by Law saying to you, "You deserve better."

dances with you in the kitchen

finishes his jobs for Doflamingo early so he can spend the rest of the days he is supposed to be away with you, which means this man sails to you as much as he can

spent two weeks with you and got you pregnant in that timeframe

always bring a bouquet and chocolates and souvenirs from islands he visited when he comes home to you

puts you in a Silent bubble so you can scream your anger/frustration away

his Silent is literally your therapy and when you tell him his Devil Fruit is your favourite Devil Fruit, he grins so bright, the sun wishes it could shine like that

you meet him when he crashes into you

How many guys can say their clumsiness got them a wife? Not many. Exactly, Rosinante is built different.

cries every time you make him pancakes for breakfast

actually a solid cook, but he needs to be watched, always have water nearby

You call him Rosi or Rosinante

He blushes when you call him Corazón or Cora-san. Once roleplayed as his "pirate" persona, and he managed for five minutes before breaking character and you laughed for a good ten minutes

you can get as loud as you want in the bedroom within his Silent bubble 😉

you love his red hat

he can bake cookies and they're sent from heaven

has his own marine squad since he's a Commander and his crew is awesome (original characters but I like them, you'll see)

kills a Celestial Dragon that tries to kidnap you and makes it look like an assassination by pirates - Sengoku is on board with it

humble and sweet wedding day, Rosinante cried the whole time

loves cuddles & loves your cooking

cried of joy when getting a lunch box for his journey with Law from you

takes the secret he has a wife to his grave, never mentioned you to Doflamingo, never let Doflamingo find out about you (considering the chapters with Doflamingo that come, very clear why)

died not knowing you were pregnant, as even you didn't know it at the time (I'm so sorry 😭)

And here is the snippet:

Your face flashed in his mind.

Sorry, mi amor. thought Rosinante.

The red lenses that have by now become his brother’s eyes stared down at Rosinante coldly, red stained glass reflecting the falling snowflakes.

Guess I’m not coming back home this time.

Rosinante was going to make sure Law gets away. He could get himself to Eudai by paying a fisherman to get him there. He’d be safe there, and with any luck, he could then decide what he wanted to do with his life. He knew you wouldn’t ask Law to stay with you if Law didn’t want to. You were good at reading the kid like that.

Law was a smart cookie. He’d probably activate his Devil Fruit powers in an hour from now on and heal himself within a minute. Rosinante knew it. He believed in it.

Rosinante isn’t worried about anything, he isn’t afraid. He is grateful. He is so grateful to be here, in this moment, on the side he considers right.

Not on the marines’ side. Not on the pirates’ side.

On Law’s side. He was Law’s Corazón now, not Doflamingo’s.

You said such to him yourself. Law saw Rosinante as his guide, Law trusted him, had faith in him, just like you did. Law had become a part of Rosinante’s family, your small family Rosinante was the patriarch of, the protector of. Rosinante wasn’t fighting for the marines now, or for the pirates. He was fighting for a sick little boy because nobody else would, nobody else wanted to, nobody else thought to, except him and you.

You had guided him and supported him to become the man he is today, catching him by the hand before he could trip and fall the same way his brother did. 

He remembered the first time you tried to teach him how to dance with him, and he ended up stepping on both your feet. 

“I’m so sorry! Please give me another chance.”

You told him, “Just enjoy the dance.” before pulling him into your first dance together, and he did as you asked, letting his legs follow the beat and the song, and it turned out okay. He never stepped on your feet again.

Six months later, he was dancing with you every day in the living room of the house the two of you called home, pulling you into a dance on the field of blue forget-me-nots, your sweet, soft laughter caressing his ears.

Because of you, Rosinante knew he’d never lose his way. Because if he did, you’d set him straight, grip his hand so he doesn’t fall apart. 

You were the flag Rosinante carried in his heart.

He felt so lucky to have you. He was the clumsiest, luckiest man on the planet. He never thought his clumsiness would bring him to you.

Rosinante was happy. Donquixote Rosinante was the happiest man on earth. He didn’t need any treasure, or an army, or a country, or immortality, or the world. None of those things could ever make him happy as living with you and Law did.

And Rosinante realised it then; it was that Doflamingo lacked. He had a family, but he also didn’t. For a moment, Rosinante pitied his brother, even though his brother had done it to himself. To live without experiencing pure happiness, genuine happiness, without hurting anyone to attain it… 

It must hurt, Doffy. thought Rosinante sadly. You must be lonely.

Rosinante looks at his older brother, and for the last time, there is a pang of pain in his heart at the sight of what his older brother has become. 

Rosinante pulled out the pistol, aiming it at his big brother — at Doffy, at Doffy — pulling back the safety pin, knowing very well he wouldn’t press the trigger, and knowing very well his brother would.

Rosinante really wished he’d gotten to dance with you one more time. 

***

Word Count Report:

Currently, Rosinante's part (Part 1) is 8.4k words, Doflamingo's Part 2 is 13k words so that one might get separated into 2 parts to keep it a normal word count. Part 3 (also Doflamingo) is the shortest at 4k words but there is a lot left to write and plan for that part.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[quidell-fics]

Snippet from my Black Myth: Wukong fanfic "A Tale Painted with Blood"

Sun Wukong x OC/Reader

Destined One x OC/Reader

Chapter 2 snippet: “Hey!” My voice cracked, a growl rising in my throat, the kind of anger I wasn’t used to feeling as one of my hands snapped to my hip and the other pointed right at him. “I’m talking to you!”

He stopped, just shy of the training grounds’ entrance.

“You know what? Fine! I get it—you don’t like me, congratulations.” My hands shot up, a reflex born of pure exasperation. It’s a nasty habit—they liked to join in on conversation whether I invited them or not. Especially when I let my emotions run off on me. “You've made that abundantly clear.”

My pointer finger then fanned in front of me as I talked, having a mind of its own. “But guess what? After all this, I still don’t hate you! In fact, I actually find you interesting, cold shoulder and all!”

He paused, his head turning ever so slightly, just enough for his ear to catch my words.

“Oh, now you’re listening, huh?” I crossed my arms, stepping closer like I had any control over the situation. “Is that it? You’ll only give me half an ear when I’m about to lose my voice?”

Still nothing. Just that ear, twitching like he’s pretending he doesn’t care.

“Well, guess what, Monkey Boy? You’ve been real clear with your whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ act, but newsflash! I didn’t exactly sign up for the ‘silent treatment and shoulder shrugs’ special, okay? You think I wanted to be dragged into your epic saga of smashing and killing things and acting like the universe’s biggest loner? Yeah, no thanks.”

I threw my hands up, again, pacing in front of him like I was delivering some grand speech. “You’ve got this whole ‘I’m the untouchable King of Sass’ vibe down, but I know something you don’t. Wanna hear it?”

He didn’t move, but I saw that ear flick again. Gotcha.

“You’re lonely, aren’t you? You think being all distant and broody makes you look cool, but guess what? I can brood too! Professionally, in fact. I'm a professional bonafide actor that can out-angst you any day of the week!”

[casualaruanienjoyer]

(Before you start reading, this is a silly Aruani scenario I wrote as a bit of a follow up to my other snippet, Flowers. I've never written a fic this long before so I apologize in advance if it's not the most coherent! Please let me know what you think, I would love to get any tips if you have any! Plus if there are any Aot inconsistencies, I apologize, I did try my best to build a setting that fits within the canon timeline I hope. Plus, some events happen in the past and the dialogue is marked with italics, I hope this past-present jump isn't too confusing! I'll shut up now and let you read!!)

Weapon

Tonight is obnoxious. Rowdy. Deafening even.

All the girls are chatting enthusiastically, some doing their hair, others trying to decide what to wear. All while Annie rests on her bed with her eyes closed.

She's tired. Her brows are twisted in an almost constant frown, hands resting lazily on her stomach. Why must her roommates be so exhausting?

"I'm so nervous about the exam tomorrow!" Sandra whines, but before she can spiral further down her mental path of despair, she gets headbutted by Mina.

"Come on, what did I tell you!? No more exam talk, tonight we party!"

Ah, yeah.... The party.

The party that the trainees decided to organize the night before one of their big exams. A stupid decision, Annie thought. Wouldn't they want to be in top shape tomorrow morning? Surely that would be the rational way of thinking.

But the more time Annie spent with her colleagues, the more she understood that she was very much not a regular teenager. It was, in a way, frustrating to witness such trivial behaviour. Though deep down it was also strangely endearing. Maybe if her life had been different, she too could have been excited about a simple party.

She never had the time to think about her hairstyle or ponder her outfits. These subjects were so low on her list of priorities that Annie often wonders if they'll ever see the surface. Even when faced with the possibility of buying herself something new, she doesn't know how to choose for herself. What exactly does she like?

She always thought that as long as her clothes made her feel comfortable enough to fight, that's what really matte-

She shifts on the bed, eyes fluttering open to stare at the bunk above.

Right...Fighting. The one thing that truly defines her. After all, a weapon doesn't need cute clothes.

A weapon also doesn't attend parties.

So, the plan is to patiently wait for everyone else to leave so she can enjoy a quiet and peaceful even-

"Annie, are you coming?"

For a second, she doesn't reply. Annie's unsure whether she feels annoyed or surprised that someone noticed her otherwise ghostly presence. But when the intruder doesn't leave her side, she sighs and turns towards them.

Mikasa. Of course. Annie didn't know how to feel about Mikasa. She was an intimidating beast in battle, a perfect sparring opponent for Annie. But she also had a strange crush on Eren that pretty much everyone but him knew about. A shame really, since Mikasa was the first girl that made Annie question her preferences.

Not that a weapon has any time for crushes.

"No" Annie replies shortly. She really isn't in the mood to chat.

"Ah I see" but Mikasa doesn't move. "Everyone is coming."

"And...?" Why does Mikasa of all people care about this anyway.

"I can lend you a skirt, if that's why you look so grumpy".

Grumpy? Grumpy?? Is she joking?

"You'd never catch me wearing one." Annie retorts, taking in Mikasa's outfit. Her signature pastel pink skirt matches nicely with a plain white shirt and her red scarf. Annie often wonders if Mikasa ever washes it. "I don't do parties".

"Reiner and Bertholdt will be there."

Great, now Annie's thinking about those two assholes. Fantastic. Another reason NOT to go.

"You're not doing a great job at convincing me." Annie turns to face the wall, hoping Mikasa will just leave if she ignores her long enough.

"Annie…" a sly voice calls out and it makes her groan. "Guess who else's gonna be there?" Mina shouts smugly from somewhere in the room.

"Yeah Annie" Ymir appears from the bunk above her head. "You gonna leave him hanging?"

Annie can feel her cheeks heat up, but doesn't allow her emotions to show though her words. "No idea what you guys are talking about. Now get lost".

"Huh?" Mikasa replies, clearly in the dark, earning a round of giggles from the rest of the girls who one by one leave through the door. "Oblivious, both of them" Sandra whines once more before disappearing down the hallway with the rest.

Ymir jumps down, hooks an arm around Mikasa's shoulder and pulls her towards the door. "Don't let her ruin the fun, Mikasa. Let's go".

In just a few seconds the room falls silent. Beautiful, peaceful silence.

Annie turns on her back, exhaling. This is exactly what she wanted... so then why does she feel so conflicted.

The first thing that comes to mind is, unfortunately, Reiner and Bertholdt. Exactly why they decided to attend this party is beyond her understanding. Their whole game of playing "valiant soldier" as if nothing had happened really pisses her off. Running off to make friends like they weren't just some horrible mass murderers. Like they weren't the reason for hundreds of innocent deaths, including the family and friends of many of their colleagues.

Yes, innocent, because the moment the three of them arrived to Paradis it became pretty clear there were no devils. No Eldian empire, no nothing. These people didn't even have running water most of the time for fuck's sake!

Annie sits up on her bed, pushing hair away from her eyes.

Reiner would often tell Annie they were "brave warriors" whenever they'd persuade her to go on spying missions around Paradis. Of course, she would do most of the dirty work while they get to sit around 'making friends'.

"Assholes."

Annie rubs her eyes. She really needs to think about anything but Reiner and Bertholdt, so she gets up to stretch her legs.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the old, somewhat muddy mirror that the girls had hung by the door. Her thoughts rewind to Mikasa's question from earlier and when her mind conjures a skirt on her mirrored self, she shakes her head.

"Yeah, no."

How Mikasa could balance being a terrifying beast with being a soft flower girl is beyond Annie. The same person excelling at mercilessly slicing titan decoys left and right would come back to dorms to change into such delicate clothes.

There's absolutely nothing delicate about Annie. Well, nothing she thought was delicate, anyway.

She feels her ears heat up again as her mind finally lands on the one subject of conversation that she REALLY tried to avoid thinking about tonight.

Armin Arlert.

The boy everyone seems to be teasing Annie about tonight.

Out of all her colleagues, Armin was the one she'd spent the most time around. Annie had tasked herself with learning as much about life on Paradis as she could, so they'd often bump into each other in the library. There was a lot of silence when they read together, but sometimes Armin would break it to ask for her point of view on various subjects: history, strategy, science... the list goes on.

"Why would you want -my- opinion?"

"You're a very practical person Annie! Your perspective could really help me ground some of my ideas." He would say with a determined smile on his lips.

"Practical, huh?" Annie looks at herself in the mirror again. Maybe that's what defined her? Practical, simple things. She did really like her very practical hoodie.

Then she glances down at her hands, her rough knuckles riddled with battle scars and bruises. Mikasa's hands were never this gnarly. She didn't spend her childhood beating the ever-living shit out of a fighting dummy.

Even now, Annie would often stay up late training and sometimes she'd find Armin doing the same. He really struggled to keep up with physical training, so he would work overtime to have any chance at passing his exams. His determination often worked against him though.

One time when Annie was practicing throwing her punches, she suddenly got interrupted by a sharp yelp. Armin somehow managed to get stuck under some weights he was trying to lift and was gasping for air.

"Don't overdo it" Annie said, effortlessly lifting the weights from Armin's chest. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Annie, how did you get so strong?"

She thought about her dad for a second, but decided it would be best to avoid that subject. "Practice. A lot of it."

She reached out for Armin's outstretched hand to help him on his feet. He was so light that Annie wondered if a boy like him could ever survive being a soldier.

To her surprise, Armin didn't let go of her grip, instead glancing down at her bruised knuckles. The warmth of his palm was so unfamiliar to Annie that it made time itself stop for just a second.

"Your hands..." he broke the silence, prompting her to pull them away and hide them in her pockets.

"Ugly, I know" she turned to leave.

"No, that's not what I-" his voice cracked, so he took a second to choose his next words. "They're exactly how I expected them to be."

"What does -that- mean?" Annie shot him a questioning look.

"They're strong.... and soft".

"Soft...?" Annie whispers to herself, taking one final look in the mirror before turning to glance outside the window. She can see various trainees heading towards the canteen.

Towards the party. The party where Armin will be. The same Armin that thinks her hands are soft.

"This is stupid" she groans, hands massaging her face in frustration.

It seems like weapons do indeed have time to think about crushes. Way too much, in fact.

As much as she hates to admit it, Armin's been on her mind. With how often they seem to bump into each other, you would think that they're doing it on purpose.

And then... there's the flowers. The mysterious flowers that began appearing on the window sill beside her bunk. The same flowers that the girls had been relentlessly gossiping about up until last week when- well…

When Annie unintentionally discovered the identity of the mysterious person leaving said flowers behind. And to make things worse, almost everyone was awake enough to witness Armin of all people gifting her a bouquet.

"They reminded me of you" was the only thing he said before he disappeared out of sight. However, his words were enough for a wave of gasps and screams to erupt in the whole room. So, ever since then she's been endlessly tormented by her roommates with various uncomfortable and quite invasive questions.

She also hasn't talked to Armin since. Whether it was her who was avoiding him or the other way around, they seemed to miss each other every day since.

So really, she should keep it that way. That's why Annie should not go to the party.

And she should totally NOT open the door, walk down the hallway and out of her cabin. But when the cold wind ruffles her hair, she already knows she'd lost this battle. "Idiot…" she mutters to herself, knowing full well she's heading towards a battlefield she's absolutely not prepared for.

Thankfully, everyone seems to have already gotten to the canteen by now so no one's there to witness Annie's walk of shame towards the building.

Why exactly is she doing this? What will this accomplish? She doesn't know herself.

The more Annie aged the more her feelings became annoyingly complicated and downright unpredictable. She often wished she was just a guy like Reiner and Bertholdt because it just seemed so much easier. A guy didn't have to worry about cute clothes or soft hands. Well, maybe except for Jean, but Annie really didn't want to think about another asshole right now.

So, when she carefully pushes the door to the canteen open, she decides to try and abandon any unwanted thoughts. She steps in and to the side, silently.

The air inside the canteen is warm and the only sources of light are a few stray candles lit on the outskirts of the room. It also looks as if the tables had been pushed to the side to make more room in the middle, where some trainees are dancing around in clumsy circles. Some of them had brought in a few rudimentary instruments to fill the silence with music.

Annie can smell booze in the air and she immediately knows someone had broken into their instructor's personal stash of alcohol. Again.

Parties really weren’t Annie's thing and she already feels uncomfortable. Everything is so loud and overwhelming that it makes her feel uneasy. There’re way too many people gathered close together for her liking. But when she reaches for the doorknob thinking she'd just leave, a voice from behind stops her in her tracks.

"Hey, flower girl! Didn’t expect to see you here! "

Fuck.

It’s too late.

"Hey Annie, did you hear-" but Annie’s hand flies over Jean’s mouth, silencing him. He absolutely reeks of alcohol.

"Keep quiet or else" she shoots him a glare so sharp that Jean shudders.

"Alright, alright" she drops her hand to let him speak and wipes it on the side of her trousers. Jean’s an absolute mess and he looks so dishevelled that Annie really doesn’t want to imagine exactly what he had been doing tonight. Or just where his mouth had been.

"You’re way too tense, sheesh. Here for the party, I take?" a smug grin crosses his face. "Didn’t take you for the partying type."

"I’m not. I was just leaving" she takes a step back towards the door hoping to sneak out before anyone else notices her.

"Ohoho, who do we have here?"

Dammit, that’s one asshole Annie didn’t want to meet tonight.

"Annie, I didn’t know you’d come" Reiner appears from her side, blocking the door. His arms are crossed in an overly confident posture as he leans against the entrance. The collar of his shirt hangs loosely around his neck and his skin is so bruised it makes Annie feel sick. What a god damn loser.

"Fuck off." she hisses back.

"Now, now, there’s no reason to be so aggressive. You should have some fun sometimes too" Reiner laughs. "Do you know what fun means, Annie?"

"I’m not playing this game tonight Reiner" she pushes past Jean, eyes locking on the other exit of the canteen located at the end of the hall. "Pretend you never saw me and go back to fucking or whatever you two were doing."

"Harsh" she hears Jean mutter before disappearing into the crowd. Annie pushes past various other trainees, some that she knows and some she’d not spoken to before. Not that she talks a lot to begin with. She notices Hannah and Franz making out somewhere in the distance, a very loud and very drunk Connie dancing on his own atop a table and a group of people surrounding Mikasa who’s sitting at one of the seats next to Eren, lost in her thoughts.

She keeps her head low as she makes her way straight for the other exit, avoiding making any unnecessary eye contact with anyone familiar. She just needs to reach the stairs, run up and escape though the back. She just needs to make it past the-

Shit. In her desperate attempt to leave she nearly walked into the rowdy circle of people dancing in the middle of the room. Before anyone can yank her in the never-ending circle of hellish dances she pushes to the side, walking around the edge of the crowd.

Annie’s chest tightens and her breaths become somewhat agitated. All this is so… normal that it makes her sick. She feels like an alien- no, she IS an alien among all these people. Loud laughter contorts into horrifying screams in her head and she feels the need to scream I’m sorry! at the top of her lungs. Her feet stumble and she leans against a pillar to hold herself up.

"Annie?"

… Oh no. No, no, no!

Anyone but him!

"Are you ok?" Armin speaks from below her in a quiet voice. He seems to have taken refuge somewhere on the side of all the action, sitting on a bench by the pillar Annie stopped by.

She doesn’t meet his eyes. Hell, she can barely hold herself up at the moment. Stopping helped her steady her breathing, but now her mind floods with thoughts about Armin and she feels like her head is going to explode.

She doesn’t know how much time passed, a minute, thirty, an hour before she gathers her thoughts and replies with a faint "I’m fine".

"Do you need to sit down? Or maybe a drink?" he asks so cautiously that Annie wonders when she became this visibly vulnerable.

"No, it’s ok. I was just leaving."

She finally manages to look Armin in the eyes and suddenly, it’s quiet.

So quiet.

Because he’s looking back at her with so much care that time stops around her. His hair’s a mess, sticking to his face in several places where sweat varnishes his skin. Some of it had been pulled back, presumably to cool him down. She can’t help but think it looks so good on him. Annie’s eyes then shamelessly follow the curve of his exposed neck only to notice that his chest was rising quite rapidly as well. Had he been dancing too?

She didn’t know Armin could dance.

"Um… Annie?" he says sheepishly, somewhat self-conscious.

Fuck, Annie was staring.

"Have you been dancing?" she blurts our, immediately regretting her words. Of course he was, everyone here was!

"Ah, yeah actually. I quite enjoy it" he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you?"

Annie stares at the rowdy crowd in the middle of the room, looking hell straight in the eye. "Not really."

"I see" he replies.

There’s silence for a bit. It’s so awkward that Annie doesn’t know how to deal with it. All the confidence she had earlier on had disappeared. Why exactly did she come here to begin with? She was going to meet Armin and then… what?

"I don’t know how to dance either" he suddenly whispers in a soft voice, taking her by surprise. He leaned over as if he was sharing one of his biggest secrets. "I just make it up as I go. But don’t tell anyone."

She blinks, not quite knowing what to say. His proximity makes her ears burn.

"I can teach you, i-if you want?" he continues somewhat shyly.

Annie has no idea when Armin Arlert became so confident. Was it at the library? Or maybe during training, or perhaps when he gifted her flowers?

Annie curses herself for replaying those events in her mind all at once. Why was he doing all this to begin with?

"Too many people" she mutters, trying to brush him off.

"I see…"

Shit, he sounds so disappointed that her chest tightens. But this is good, it’s perfect because from where she’s standing there’s a clear path towards the exit. A few steps and she’s out of the canteen and back in her bed. All she needs to do is leave. Easy.

So then why does she grab his hand instead.

"My room is empty. We can do it there."

Fuck, that came out completely the wrong way and she mentally punches herself for her inability to choose words more carefully.

Armin’s face reddens so deeply that she worries he might combust. But he looks so determined when he squeezes her hand and nods in agreement. And it’s this pure boldness of his that makes Annie wonder-

Can weapons fall in love?

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Oh hey, look, it's that massive story I've been working on since January! I'm so thankful to everyone who has shown interest in the concept of this fic and the little snippets I've posted. You've been more help than you know. Without that support, I don't think this would have ever gotten finished.

A special thanks to @numinousmysteries who kindly beta read for me and did a fantastic job. I wanted to make sure I got this right, and she was a great help!

And now I can't wait to share this with you all! New chapters posted daily!

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 1/34 - ink and paper

How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.

She'd never have guessed...

Find out if adoption is right for you! Visit us at 8080 Meadowlark Ln. Annapolis, MD “A Home for Every Child!”

Scully stares down at the brochure on the desk. One of many, which are half buried underneath a pile of paperwork from their current case. Certain words and phrases are circled in pen, underlined, annotated in the margins in the familiar scrawl she knows almost better than her own.

stability – less travel? change in division? discuss with Scully

loving home – ask Frohike for real estate agent #

The word “family” is circled three times.

She swallows with some difficulty, finding—to her dismay—that her hands are shaking. Mulder will be arriving any second, and here she is, frozen like a statue.

How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.

She’d never have guessed…

“Morning, partner,” his voice calls out, and she jolts in surprise. She hears the door snick shut behind him, but she can’t bring herself to turn around. With deft fingers, she pushes the brochure back under the stack of papers where she found it, only the colorful corner of the page visible.

“Morning, Mulder,” she tries, clearing her throat. It comes out strained, but she hopes he doesn’t notice. She hides her trembling hands in her lap under the desk.

He looks down at her, half amused, half concerned. “You okay? You're not getting that stomach bug that's been going around, are you?”

“I'm fine,” she answers defensively, warning him to back off. She grabs a file off the desk in front of her with a little more force than necessary, plopping it open.

‘Okayyy,’ he mouths exaggeratedly, eyebrows raised. He sits down at his desk and leafs through some papers sitting on top, arranging them into neater stacks. When he uncovers the brochures, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, hurriedly covering them with other papers and trying to act natural.

Scully thinks about letting it go and pretending she doesn’t know what he’s hiding, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep until she finds out what’s been going on in that ridiculous head of his. 

She idly flips to the next page of the file in her hand, displaying a confidence she doesn’t feel in the firm set of her shoulders

“Doing some light reading, Mulder?” she asks, attempting to look disinterested.

His head shoots up, a look of alarm on his face. For a second he thinks she might be talking about something else, that she couldn’t possibly know, but one look at her throws that theory right out the window. He glances back and forth between her and the papers on the desk a few times before dropping his shoulders in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Scully, you weren’t supposed to see those,” he says, shuffling all the brochures into a pile while carefully avoiding eye contact. “I was working here late last night. I must have forgotten to put them away.” As he speaks, he opens the top drawer of his desk and shoves them inside, then takes a seat at his desk. His nose is buried in a file before she can even respond.

She watches him now. He is a curiosity, determinedly feigning concentration on a case she knows he finds disinteresting and a waste of time.

Typical.

“You're really not going to say anything?” she asks, arms crossed in front of her.

That rankles him. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, indignation boiling below the surface.

She looks at him incredulously, the file in front of her all but forgotten.

“You're thinking of adoption? When were you planning to share this with me?”

He sighs and shakes his head, pleading silently with her. “It's too soon, Scully. I didn't think you'd want to hear it yet.”

“But you're looking into it because…”

“It's just been on my mind, that's all.”

She stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Since when?”

Since when… Images flash of a life he didn’t recognize. His sister, alive and grown up. A quiet suburban neighborhood. Cancer Man living just down the street. A wife and kids, but not the right ones. It was wrong, all of it was wrong.

“A hallucinatory trip into an alternate universe tends to make you think,” he answers simply.

He’s looking at her now, deadly serious despite the joking tone. She doesn’t respond. Can’t respond.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring all this up,” he continues. “I know it's a sore spot for you.”

It takes her a moment to conjure words from her mouth, her lips moving but no sound coming out. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“For all I know, this isn't even something you'd want.”

What does she say to that? Is she interested? 

“I– I'm not sure. I've never really considered it before.”

He waits, his eyes assessing her for some hidden meaning, some insight into her state of mind. He gets nothing. She’s totally blank.

“Well… what do you want?” He thought the question was innocuous enough, safer territory than straight up asking her if she wants to adopt, but apparently not.

She shuts her folder, abruptly standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I'm going back to the crime scene,” she declares, changing the subject. “I want to see if there's anything we missed.”

“Scully…” he tries.

“Not now, Mulder.” Without even taking the time to put her coat on, she flees, leaving the door partially open in her rush to get away. Cursing under his breath, Mulder grabs his coat from its hook and hurries after her.

The elevator doors are almost all the way closed by the time he catches up, but in this case, he figures it’s worth the potential loss of a limb. He throws his hand between the closing gap in the metal doors, and it bounces back open to allow him entrance, to the extreme displeasure of one Dana Scully. He wisely stays silent in the elevator, stealing glances at her every few seconds out of the corner of his eye as they ascend. He can feel the frigid air coming off her in waves. It’s been a while since he’s seen her this annoyed with him, this eager to get away.

He won’t let her. Not this time. He’s learned from his mistakes.

In the parking garage, she's walking briskly, heels clicking on the concrete, and he has to pick up the pace to keep up with surprisingly agile little legs.

He didn’t want this confrontation. There was a reason he was keeping his research a secret. This is exactly what he was hoping to avoid, at least until the time was right to carefully drop some hints here and there. But now? There’s no carefully about it. No option to wait and let this blow over. There’s only one way out of this at this point, and unfortunately, that way is through.

He picks up the pace.

“You're the one who brought this up, Scully, I was perfectly happy throwing those brochures in my drawer and not saying a word.” 

His voice echoes in the concrete parking structure, sounding harsh even to his own ears. As frustrated as he is with her, that isn’t his intent. He only wants to know what he can do to help her, how he can help her fulfill her dreams. He lets out a breath, and with it, releases his selfish frustration. She’s still walking away at a breakneck pace, and he doesn’t know how he can get her to stop and face this. 

“If you want to talk about it, let's talk about it,” he says, pleading. “I can't help you if I don't know what you want. You want me to shut up, never mention the subject again?” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine, just tell me. What do you want, Scully?”

“I just want to be a mom, okay?” she yells, whirling around to face him. Her words instantly silence him, and he watches stone-faced as tears spring in her eyes. “I see all these other moms out there and think… I could do that too. Why can’t I do that too?”

Well, mission accomplished. The truth is finally out there. Part of him feels bad for pushing her, but the other part knows that it was doing her no good to keep her feelings bottled up inside to deal with by herself. He reaches out a hand, intending to comfort her, his eyes softening in sympathy. 

“You could. Scully, you’d be the best mom.”

She flinches away, stepping out of his reach. “You don’t know that, Mulder. I can’t even—even my body is even telling me no. Over and over.” She resumes her brisk walk to her car, and he thinks he sees her brush angrily at her face, no doubt wiping away the evidence of the stubborn tears that have managed to escape.

He rushes to get in front of her, walking backwards so he can keep her in his sight. 

“When has that ever stopped you?” he asks. “You had cancer, and you kept fighting. You’re alive today because you refused to give up when your body quit on you. What about that?” He stops abruptly, forcing her to come to a halt before she crashes into him.

There’s no way out of this, is there? Her shoulders slump in defeat.

“You saved me, Mulder,” she admits quietly, shaking her head. “You’re the one who didn’t give up. Not me. It was only because you were with me that I survived.”

This time, when she goes to walk away, he stops her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The simple touch causes her to freeze, hardly breathing, and when he steps closer, she stays. His hands slide down her shoulders, holding her securely in place to ensure that his next words come through loud and clear.

“I’m gonna be with you here on this too, I promise.” His thumbs brush back and forth on the fabric of her sleeves, for his comfort or hers, she’s not sure. “You can still be a mother, Scully. I’ll help you.”

She shakes her head, her heart feeling like it has been ripped to shreds. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He gives her a little shake for emphasis. She still won’t look at him. “You’ve kept me alive all these years, how much harder could a baby be?”

That gets a breathy chuckle from her, and her head falls to her chest. Groaning with the agony of this burden on her heart, she stops fighting it and leans into him. Without hesitation, he wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his embrace.

Her hand comes up to find purchase on his suit jacket, relishing in the comfort only he can provide. She’s past caring if anyone sees them like this here. Let them talk. They already do, anyway.

“Well, at least when you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’re not crying,” she speaks into his chest.

She feels him shrug, and can almost see the goofy smile she knows she put on his lips.

“Usually.”

She looks up at him with her chin on his sternum before taking a deep breath and pulling away.

“It's raining,” he says softly, glancing down at her and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “We can go back to the crime scene later.” She nods, unsure what else to say. She allows herself to be led, his ever-present hand brushing against her back as they start toward the basement.

“Adoption,” Scully mutters to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know, Mulder. This—this is different than IVF. With that, all I was asking for was your…” her eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at him, “genetic material. This is something entirely different.”

He’s pleased she’s at least considering it, but she doesn’t get it at all, if that’s what she thinks.

“How? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, the process of getting a baby is a little different, but in the long run, the result is the same.”

She pauses, looking at him in confusion. “What– what are you saying?”

He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair, suddenly taking a unique interest in his shoes and the floor of the parking structure.

“Yeah, we probably should have talked about this before…”

“Talked about what?”

He sighs and guides her into a stairwell. It’s stuffy and poorly-lit with a flickering lightbulb, but here, there’s less of a chance they’ll be overheard.

“Look, Scully, I don’t know what you had in mind for my involvement beyond contributing to half the baby’s DNA when you first asked me to help you get pregnant,” he starts, fighting hard to meet her eyes instead of shying away. “But, I– I had hoped it would be a little more than ‘Say hi to Uncle Mulder,’ every couple of months.”

She blinks back at him, speechless.

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable with all this, I just—” He takes in a breath. “I guess I got to thinking of what it might be like to have a family again.” His bout of honesty is met with a blank stare, and his nervous smile drops. “I completely misread the situation, didn’t I?” he asks, self-loathing waiting on standby. “Got ahead of myself…”

She stops him by catching his coat sleeve. “No—uh. No, you didn’t.” She collects herself, willing herself to offer him some reassurance. Her fingers release the fabric of his coat, shifting her grasp instead to his hand. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

He glances down at where she holds tightly to him, and his lips curl into some semblance of a smile.

“I guess they might have had a point with all those communication seminars we’ve skipped, huh?”

She chuckles softly.

“I don’t think this is exactly what they had in mind…”

With a gentle tug, Mulder leads her down the stairs, committed to holding her hand as long as she’ll let him. The air is stagnant and silent, only the rhythmic echo of their shoes clicking on the concrete steps as they make their way to the bottom floor.

She’s thinking. What she knows now, it changes everything. 

She had asked him to leave. Hid her grief from him as much as possible after her initial lapse into weakness when she came home with the news. She had almost kissed him, then, unsure of what else she had to live for. She knew she was hurting him by folding inward on herself in the weeks that followed, but that didn’t stop her from doing it. She was in a dark place, hardly able to see what was right in front of her. What she couldn’t see was that his hurt wasn’t just for her, born of some misguided sense of guilt or pity. It was his own, too.

“Mulder, all those months, after it failed—” There’s something like fear in her voice as she utters these words, or maybe regret.

“I was just worried about you.”

She squeezes his hand, feeling tears well in her eyes once more. “No, you were grieving like I was, and I didn’t notice. I pushed you away…”

“Dana…” He turns, a couple steps ahead of her, so for once it’s him who has to look up to meet her eyes. Her lip wobbles as she looks down at him, and he brushes his thumb tenderly over her knuckles. “You had to deal with it on your own, I understood that. I don’t blame you for anything.”

Those eyes. So open and honest and sad. She wonders how anyone could hurt him, could bear to break this man’s heart. How could she? 

Choking back a sob, she falls into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. His arms encircle her back, supporting her weight, and she feels herself being lifted as he goes up a step, closing the distance between them.

His hand climbs up to the back of her head, stroking her hair soothingly.

“I just wanted to be there for you,” he mumbles into her neck.

“You were, Mulder,” she gasps between bouts of tears, finding comfort in the feel of his soft hair between her fingers. “You’ve always been there.”

He pulls back, lifting his hands to cup her face and wiping away the tears he finds there with the pads of his thumbs. 

“You don’t have to give an answer now,” he says, reassuring, “This is… a big commitment, I know, and I don’t want you to say yes just because I suggested it. I just wanted you to know it’s an option, and if you want to have a baby, I’m in. However you want to go about it, I’ll be as involved as you want. Just– let me know, anytime. Okay?”

He’s looking at her now, head ducked so those sad, puppy-dog eyes can get his message across.

She nods, holding tight to the wrists that so tenderly cup her face.

“Okay.”

~~~

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[trensu]

have another snippet of stasis in darkness! just 'cuz i'm bored tbh, and kinda stuck on all my wips i'm currently working on.

The seventh night:

“Has he spoken to you yet?”

“How could he when you’re here yammering my ear off every night?”

“He’s a god, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for him to shut me up.”

“Even gods have their limits.”

“Oh, har har. The warrior’s got jokes. You didn’t answer my question.”

“...not yet,” Steve said stiffly. 

“It’s been how long now? A week?” The man hummed in a falsely thoughtful manner. “Maybe he’s just not that into you, man. Maybe he’s letting you down easy.”

At his words, Steve involuntarily curled his shoulders inward, slightly, ever so slightly, in defense. He'd been wondering that same thing earlier that day. Steve had toiled hours in the sun to fix up the shrine; to make it welcoming; to encourage a divine visit. 

He had stopped wearing his armor to free up more time to work. Putting it on and taking it off took too long, and he didn't have to maintain it as much if he wasn't wearing it regularly. He stuck to only his chainmail. He'd kept his shield stored away, too, so it wouldn't get in the way while he worked. Though, he made sure to keep his sword nearby.

He’d taken his knife and traced over the etchings of stars in the alcove that served as a backdrop to the statue. His knife had been ruined but it didn't matter. The Lord of Night would probably want the stars of his dark sky with him, he reasoned, and these had worn so thin. Sadly, it was the only detail he could bring out of all the stone. The statue’s face was so crumbled that Steve couldn’t even begin to guess what it had originally looked like.

He had discovered that the vines he chose to keep were moonflowers. They had blossomed every night since he’d removed the other more invasive plants. He'd draped them carefully so they lay across the statue's shoulders, wrapped lovingly around its torso and clung to its waist before the ends of the vines trailed off at the knees. 

The strange man might have made himself a nuisance during his visits but he never stayed the whole night. Steve had been able to get a few hours of makeshift prayers at the shrine every night. He’d done all this, yet dawn broke every day without a single sign that the Lord of Night had been listening.

“Warrior?”

Steve broke out of his reverie. He refused to look at the man. He had to clear his throat roughly before he could speak.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been rejected by someone I love." Steve tried not to dwell on his father's perpetual scowl and his mother's infinite disinterest. "I’m pretty used to my devotion being one sided by now.”

“That’s a bummer,” the man said. His sympathy was meant to be teasing, Steve could tell, but it came out surprisingly sincere. “Good thing you have a whole pantheon! Strong guy like you? Any god would take you to be their warrior in a heartbeat.”

“What are you talking about? No, I’m nowhere near done with his shrine,” Steve said determinedly. “I know a silversmith and a stone mason who’d give me a hand, and Dustin and Robin have been dying to come up here to bring him offerings. The only reason they didn’t come with me is because I had to do the pilgrimage on my own if I wanted a shot at earning his blessing.”

The man spluttered.

“Are you insane? A god rejects you and you’d come back? What kind of stupid–were you dropped on your head as a child?

“A couple times, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Are you sure? Have you checked? You should go to one of the gods of medicine. Owens, maybe. Have him take a look at your head,” the man huffed in frustration. "For stars' sake, why would you want to come back?"

He ignored the insult to his intelligence. For stars' sake. Steve murmured the words to himself, letting them settle in his mouth to get a feel for them. He'd never heard of that one before. He liked how it rolled off the tongue, natural as anything. 

The man waited for his response. Steve took a moment to try to sort out his words. He kept his head bowed towards the shrine as he ruminated.

“People barely remember my god,” Steve finally said. “And when they do, they remember him as something he’s not. Even if he doesn’t believe I’m worthy of carrying his crest, he shouldn't be forgotten.” 

The man said nothing. Steve took a shuddering breath before the quiet could take over. 

“Having someone forget you is…it’s very lonely. Which is the worst feeling. I…I guess I don’t want him to be lonely anymore.”

The silence that followed his statement stretched long enough that Steve started falling into that meditative state he’d learned during his many nights at the shrine. It helped dull the twisted up, unsteady sensation that lingered from the man’s prodding at his every self-doubt and fear.

“He hasn’t rejected you yet, though,” the man broke Steve's musings awkwardly.

“He hasn’t reached out to me either. It’s fine. I’ll keep coming either way.”

Another silence. It was around the time the man usually left Steve to his worship. He didn't hear retreating footsteps. Instead, the man cleared his throat, and when Steve looked up at him, the man turned his face away, shrouding it in gloom.

“Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted you yet.”

“Nervous? No way.”

“He sounds like a godly weirdo,” the man said. “Maybe he’s never had a holy warrior before and doesn’t know what to do.”

“He’s the good kind of weirdo! And there’s no way he’s not had a warrior carry his symbol. He must’ve had loads back in the day. I probably don’t meet his standards,” Steve smiled lopsidedly, playing off his insecurity.

“I’m serious!” the man exclaimed. “It’s possible! Some gods never get warriors. Some never want them at all!

“Look, even if I was the first to offer to be his, he’d know he didn’t have to be nervous,” Steve insisted. "I’ve never served a god before either! I wasn’t sure I could have faith at all until I learned about him. So like, if he’s new to it then so am I, and we’d figure it out together.”

“...you really mean that, don’t you? You’d let him make it up on the fly if he took you on.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugged.

“You’d keep coming back even if he rejected you?”

“Yep.”

“But why? That’s so stupid. Nobody would do that!” The man sounded frustrated.

“I’m not really known for my smarts,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Robin and Dustin had to translate the only book we found about the Lord of Night because I definitely wouldn't have been able to. It was a tiny book but it still took them ages to do because the language doesn’t really exist anymore. So they told me it’s possible it’s not accurate. It felt true, though, to me. 

“There was this quote, I can’t recite it word for word, but…it was something about how monsters don’t always look monstrous, and the monstrous aren’t always things to be feared.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” the man protested. Steve shook his head.

“No, it’s true! Like, I know I’ve got a pretty face and really great hair,” he smirked when he heard the man scoff, “but I was such a fucking asshole when I was younger. I went around hurting people on purpose, tearing them down for no reason other than I was hurting too, and that’s the shittiest reason to hurt anyone. I had to get some sense knocked into me by the people I call friends now. 

“My friends are the greatest people I know, and I’m really lucky to have them, but to everyone else? My friends are losers. They’re rejects because they don’t act right or they don’t look right; they talk too much or too loudly. People treat them like shit because they're different. 

“And after I noticed that, I started seeing it more even if I don’t always pick up on it. And I still mess up sometimes. I'm not a god, I can't change the world but…in the stories Robin and Dustin translated, the Lord of Night helped people like my friends because it was always the weak and rejected that try to hide themselves in the dark. I want to help those people find him again so they know they’ve got someone holy in their corner. They should know someone loves them enough to protect them.”

Steve didn’t really know where all those words came from; he wasn’t a wordsmith like Robin and Dustin. He always had a hard time verbalizing his thoughts, and he usually messed up the words. Nonetheless, these words had almost burned to be said. 

When the speech that flowed from him finally reached a natural end, he felt…lighter, cleaner. He felt like his shield and sword when they were polished to a shine. But when he turned to see his audience’s reaction, the man had gone. Steve felt strangely dejected instead.

–

The eighth night:

“Hey, it’s me again. My supplies are low and I don’t know what your thoughts about hunting on your land are so I’d rather not…I don’t want you to think I’m disrespecting you. I might have to leave soon to get more supplies,” Steve swallowed nervously. “Which isn’t an ult..ultimate…? No, damn, what is it called? I’m not trying to force you to talk to me before then, is what I mean. Not–not that I could! With you being a god.” 

Steve scoffed at his own blundering. He should’ve had Robin help him make speech notes. Cards with conversation starters. Something! He took a deep breath and tried again.

"But I'm coming back, I promise. I meant what I said about fixing up your shrine. I’ll commission a new plaque and I’ll talk to the stonemason about replacing your plinth. I don’t know a lot about sculpture, but I’ll get you the strongest type of stone and get something nice carved on it. Your flowers? Or cats? Cats are cute. Maybe your bats would be better…?” Steve trailed off.

It was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The full moon illuminated the area more than ever before. The shrine must have really been a beautiful sight back in its heyday. The thought of it sent a pang of longing through his soul.

The hour came that the strange man usually showed up. Steve steeled himself for another round of questions, another jab at his faith. The hour went by with Steve alone in the clearing. Steve frowned.

“Do you think he’s okay?” 

Steve’s question went unanswered.

After another hour without seeing his stranger, Steve had finally convinced himself to round the perimeter for a quick check in case the man was nearby or in need of assistance. When he found nothing, he checked again in case he missed something. 

Still nothing. Uneasily, Steve gave up his search and returned to the shrine. He knelt before it again, head bowed. He cleared his throat.

“Lord of Night, I don’t know his name, and I know he’s been rude–annoying–but could you please watch over the man? Please keep him safe from harm for as long as the stars shine tonight. Thank you.”

He received no response, but Steve had faith. He knew he was heard. He knew his god wouldn’t let an innocent come to harm if he could prevent it.

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you’d like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Warnings: This is gonna deal with a lot of controversial shit surrounding Matty and his past I'm ngl, so if you're not into that then I'd suggest not reading this! But if you are, then hi!! I hope you enjoy?

Authors Note: I'm back...:)) Back with a series too, or it will be if this first part goes down well! Lmao so pls don't hate it! Butttt in all honestly, I do have to quickly thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for all the kind words she gave me on the snippets I annoyed her with recently and for forcing me to actually believe in this fic because I very much was on the fence about posting again. So thank youuuu, it means a whole lot<3 Also, the skeleton of this was taken from a very old fic of mine which I started during the height of covid that I've just been thinking about trying to better for a long while now, so... enjoy?

And I guess let me know if this is something anyone would want to read more of? Yeeeeah, I really don't know what else to write here now, it's been a while, so! Hi, help, bye:)

Masterlist

Chapter 1: He's got the whole world falling at his feet

“Yeah, yeah! I’m really into their sound at the minute! Honestly fell in love with their recent performance at the VMA’s– didn’t overdo it and kept it true to themselves. Definitely did a great job there, so well done with that one if you’re listening in, lads!”

I was grinning from ear to ear as I spoke into the microphone before me, which was to be expected whenever I was at work. Strange, yeah I know, but only to any typical person with the usual nine to five, because I truly did love my job. It was tough work, strenuous at times, contrary to what most might believe, but it was pretty much everything I’d ever dreamt of.

See, I’d grown up on the outskirts of this tiny village in the Isles, where everybody knew everything about everybody. Secrets were never well kept– you could just ask our local priest about that one, who often used to regale most of the confessions he’d heard in the only pub around for miles whenever he’d been pissed beyond being able to sit on his barstool. 

It was also incredibly tight-knit, as in, all the kids who went to school together, then grew up and married one another, settling down and taking over the jobs that their parents or grandparents would soon retire from. Hardly anyone moved away, if ever.

In reality though, it was actually just a place I’d always felt like a stranger in. Where I’d struggled to fit in and make friends, to form bonds outside of the one I shared with my mum. 

Which sounds sad speaking about it, but still true, I’d had a real tough go of it back in school. ‘Mouse’ was what they’d seemingly dubbed me back then, a nickname which had travelled throughout the masses all too quickly seeing as there had only been about sixteen kids in both my year and the one above. 

The name had mostly started due to me just having been an extremely timid child, hiding behind my mum’s flowing skirts whenever we went into town and much preferring that of my own company whenever other kids were mulling about. But that fact hadn’t gotten any easier for me once I’d been forced out of school for a few years after an accident that had flipped my entire life on its head. Resulting in me being further isolated from the rest of the world and my fuck-face of a father running for the hills.

Still. Shit happened, I supposed, and I’d been forced to deal with it and grow up.

Too quickly, in truth.

So whilst everyone else had been out living, I’d been holed up in our little dove cottage miles away from them all, with only books and music to keep me company. Music which had been a true constant in my life and just about the only thing that had gotten me by.

As well as my mum, who’d forever be my rock. And back when we’d both been growing up– because that was how it’d always felt with us– she had constantly had the tele on full blast throughout the day, cycling through the freeview channels that played the recent top 50 and old school classics.

It was one of my favourite things to look back on now. Sometimes if she was ever in the mood, or when the power would finally flicker and go out completely when a storm hit, she’d spin this old phonograph her own father had gifted her in the days before she’d left home. The two of us would dance around the living room whilst she would clean on Saturday mornings and then hum to it as we settled in for a long downpour, her working on her trusty crossword whilst I would read or draw. The brass  pavilion would croon out old French records she had bought long before she’d moved to the UK, and before she’d ever even met my father.

And I would just lose myself in it all. 

It wasn’t just the basic premise of music that I had enjoyed though, it was everything else that also came along with it. The opinions, the reviews, the personal stories and thoughts, the way it could make a person think and feel. 

So, for years I would just sit down at the kitchen table and write for hours on end about the sound, the rhythms I’d felt and heard, the lyrics that had had me bellowing out or playing on a never-ending loop in my head. And then, as a teen, Twitter had come along and had been just another way for me to express it all.

It was actually Twitter that had eventually led to all of this. 

The radio.

At first, I’d never paid much mind to all of the people who had started to discover the small page I’d created, the few users that had enjoyed reading my inner thoughts. But then one day I had and it had been an insane concept to comprehend, the very idea that people cared enough to stop and read my thoughts, but it was also what had, ultimately, pushed me into continuing with it.

From there, opinions on genres of music and their style throughout different decades quickly turned into thoughts on up and coming artists, then actors and other A-list celebrities. So I had ended up spending an awful lot of time online, simply just tweeting about it all, on subjects followers had wanted to hear about and answering questions on whether I loved a certain album or this new EP. 

The account had grown rapidly shortly after and by the time I’d had the balls to tell my mum I had wanted to leave home and make a start for myself, in London of all places, the account I used had gained well over fifteen thousand followers.

I went to uni down there and met people. People who didn’t shy away from me or shine a light on my odd quirks. I met my best mate there, too. And Finn was unlike any other. The platonic love of my life, or so I’d since dubbed. He was eccentric, witty, and didn’t care about what anyone else thought of him. Forced me to feel that way too, slowly but surely. And it had only taken a few weeks before he'd grown rather suspicious of my constant need to always have my phone near.

He had, pretty early on, decided that I must’ve had some secret boyfriend back at home that I’d yet to tell him about and had annoyed me about it at every twist and turn, basically backed me into a metaphorical corner. So to say I’d relented fairly quickly wouldn’t be a lie, and I’d told him all about the account soon enough.

Finn had actually been the one to suggest that I take it further, somewhere bigger, make it into something that people could actually tune into and not just read about. I had taken the consideration on board way back then, but had only acted on it when shit had hit the fan a year or so later. But we'll soon get into that.

So with it all, I ended up making an actual radio show out of my thoughtless Twitter account, allowing people to listen in and actually get to know the person behind the name.

That was essentially how ‘Mouse On A Mic' had come to life.

Yup, I’d kept the fucking nickname! I couldn’t not in truth, it was familiar, reminded me of the person I once was, and who I currently am now. But the only difference was, I’d given it a new story. I’d reclaimed it. 

The show's audience grew fairly quickly during that first year, I was new on the scene and seemingly refreshing. I had a no-bullshit kind of attitude that my listeners apparently admired. I called celebs out on their crap and went to new extremes to conjure up inventive ways to get followers involved. 

Ultimately ended up doing things that other radio presenters were too afraid to do at the time. Which was fair enough, in hindsight, they had actual endorsers and brands that were backing them up and funding their streams. Me, on the other hand, I had no-one to answer to for my mistakes or any of the backlash the show received. It was just me, sat alone in my bedroom, speaking into a mic.

Only, a few years had since passed and now it was me sitting in a quaint little studio in East London, not too far from my flat and walking distance from any and every coffee chain that the city had to offer. 

Anyway, I forced myself to adjust my headset over my right ear as I wheeled closer to the table, aware of the one too many monitors and power cables I had to constantly avoid, and glanced upwards, locking eyes with my co-producer, Adi.

The girl shot me a hurried gesture, a circular wave of her hand that had me chuckling to myself even as I silently waved her off, knowing I’d already gotten off track one too many times this recording. 

"Alright! It seems as though we've got to move on with the next segment of the show now! Unfortunately, Ads here has informed me that I can't just sit around all day and talk about Inhaler forever. A right shame that, don’t you think?”

I huffed theatrically whilst Adi merely shook her head in return, dark ringlets brushing the length of her shoulders as she mouthed the word 'prick' through the thick sheet of plexiglass that separated us.

Ignoring that loving endearment in favour of continuing on with the commentary, I hoped I hadn’t steered too far off track seeing as there was still an awful lot scheduled for today's show that I had yet to go over.

“So moving on!” I sighed on into the mic and rubbed my palms together, eyes flitting over the few sheets of paper I had perched before me, “It seems like quite a few of you lot, over on Twitter especially, have made it loudly known that you want to hear my thoughts on Manchester’s very own Matthew Healy. God, is there yet another scandal under his belt I don’t yet know about? Makes me wonder where he’s finding the time.”

I shook my head briefly at the bulleted point I’d been given and rolled forward in my seat. The wheels squeaked beneath my weight and I made a silent prayer that the mics hadn’t picked up the sound. 

What a fucking topic, I thought quietly to myself and sent Adi a semi-amused smile before peering down at the recent headline she had handed over to me earlier that morning.

It was the same old thing. Expected really at this point.

“Healy’s at it again! Whatever will we do?” I gasped, playing up the whole thing as I stared down at a few images of the haughty singer that were plastered across the printout I held in front of me. 

There were four of them, a quick succession of pictures that had all seemingly come from a clip at a recent concert. Bit blurry but the title gave away to what was happening.

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat as soon as I read the headline. “Oh God! It appears Matty Healy is– wait for it!– back at it again, only this time it seems he’s gone and traded off a drumstick for…” I paused to drum quite the anticipating beat against the tabletop of my desk and, as stoic as I possibly could, I then added, “A joint!” 

A smug grin slid its way up onto my lips when I heard Adi’s faint cackle echo from just outside the booth.

“Honestly, I swear that everything this man does makes the rags! Reckon I actually saw an article about how he took his tea this one time. And like, do me a favour, yeah?” I rolled my eyes but relented, “A man of the people though, in’t he? He’s got to be! I mean, just look at this headline. Fucking who the hell writes this shit?”

Tossers, I supposed. But even so.

“It’s madness.” I muttered, gently clucking my tongue as I shook my head at the so-called news that had made the front page. “But anyway, I’m guessing that most people claim him to be the epitome of a real time rockstar, and sure, he might just be. 'Sex, drugs, rock & roll', all that shit. But really, how much longer is it going to last until everything goes tits up, hey?

“I mean, Healy can pretty much do whatever he wants at this point in his career, he’s got half the world either falling at his feet or complaining about him- has done since he was what, a kid? Following his parents amongst the shadows of their fame before he eventually stepped out and made an actual name for himself. Saying that, it still is insane to see how much he’s changed!”

And it was. Healy and his band had risen to fame so evidently, their music everywhere, they sold out shows constantly and had the privilege to fly across the globe doing whatever they pleased. But they’d also practically grown up in the limelight, Matty especially. So it was hard not to notice the resounding changes that shone through in all the news and gossip that ran riot.

“But, if I am being truthful.” I went on to say, thumb toying with the page’s sharp edge, “And when am I not? I thought that most of the shit that went around about him at first was a load of crap– publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that. Or maybe just him being an idiot, a young lad who’s had to grow up with all these cameras consistently on him and had to basically learn what he can and can’t say in front of them. Slipping up from time to time, like most do. But, now? I’m honestly not too sure… It’s just a bit sad. Isn't it? There was so much potential there.”

I shrugged, a hearty sigh falling with my shoulders.

“I actually used to quite like his stuff a couple years ago, he’s got a way with words, with music overall really. Reckon if he’d gotten his shit together that he probably could’ve been ranked higher up on the list of rockstars. Could’ve changed or paved a way for newer musicians entering the scene. But not so much anymore. His songs lack the passion they once had, they’re not what they used to be. He works hard, I’ll give him that. Still, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his band pulling his dead weight along with them now.”

I took a slow breath, then gazed down at the small amount of sticky notes I had pinned to the monitor beside me: the next segment. I’d have to wrap this one up quickly.

“Maybe that’s a bit harsh.” I said, chewing on my lower lip, “But honestly, I just hope that he takes an actual break sooner rather than later. The band looks spent and he just seems like he could do with some shut eye, some time away from all the cameras and prying eyes. Just so he can sort himself out good and proper, you know? Then again, that’s just my opinion among a sea of many.”

In truth, I really did think that Matty had real talent, that raw kind, and he seemed like a nice enough guy– or at least he had done, a couple of years back, before all the controversy and whatever else. 

Now though, the man just seemed so caught up in it all, in the fame, the tabloids, the drama. Unaware of just how far he’d fallen.

Me, I’d seen it one too many times before, with many of the greats even, and as painful as it was to watch, what more could I say or do? I'm nobody in comparison.

I blew out a short breath.

“Fuck, that got all serious didn’t it?” I tried to laugh it all off and only felt a little more at ease when I finally glanced up and caught Adi’s sincere smile, “Anyway, onto our next segment, reading a couple of your lots tweets! Let's see what everyone's saying about our amazing Adi today, shall we? What was it last week, Ads, those yellow trousers you were wearing?”

--

“Oi, will you two please stop mucking about? We’ve got to get going!” I scolded without any actual heat, shaking my head as I held back a chuckle, forever amused by the infamous pair stood a way away from me. 

I’d not long since left the studio, having walked with Adi to the nearby tube station so that she could hop a train home before I had headed on over to Finn’s. It was a typical route for me and not too long of a walk, but since arriving I’d been roped into packing up the many belongings that had been messily upended from the Spiderman backpack I was so often seen carrying about.

My gaze skittered over to the other side of the room once I’d teethed together the bag’s plastic zipper, over to where my son, Teddy, was currently in the midst of being whirled around by his godfather, tawny coloured curls flying in every-which direction whilst his cheeky grin grew even more prominent.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift upwards as I watched my best mate laugh at whatever it was the toddler had just said to him, tickling the boy’s sides as he did. If I was feeling incredibly sappy, I’d tell Finn then just how thankful I was to have him around, because he truly was incredible. 

From the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant, Finn had been there for me. He loved my son almost as though Teddy was his own, he adored the kid like no other and had placed him on a pedestal high above everyone else since the day he was born. 

Finn was always free to take Teddy whenever I had the show to fret about too, or if I was ever in dire need of another helping hand. He was fiercely protective of the two of us and I knew in the very depths of my heart that there would never be a hair harmed on my son’s head so long as he was around. 

I was pulled from my thoughts just as the toddler in question came bounding over, giggling uncontrollably as Finn chased after him, his arms stretched out wide and crouched down low to mimic the small boy's height. I couldn't help but notice the matching grins they both wore.

“Help!” Teddy squealed as he flung himself into my awaiting arms, allowing me to wrap him up and settle him safely on my hip, using my frame as a shield to block him from Finn’s view.

"You can't hide from me Teds, I’ll always find you!" Finn taunted playfully, laughing merrily whilst he wiggled his fingers at Teddy, who was only just peeking out at him from over my shoulder.

Teddy squirmed in my grasp, giggling and screaming senselessly as he tried to dodge Finn’s oncoming hands that had since managed to softly graze his sides. I could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation, the pair never failing to brighten my day, and couldn't help but feel ever so grateful for whatever being had brought Finn into both mine and Teddy’s lives.

You see, Finn was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother, let alone a best friend. He’d been the family I’d never known I’d needed, a home away from home. And I knew that I could always count on him for just about anything and he had proved that the day I’d turned up on his doorstep in the pissing rain one Tuesday night, utterly terrified after having just found out that I was expecting. 

“Alright, you lot!” I began, batting away one of Finn’s advancing hands as he made to grab at Teddy's tiny ankle. “We've got to get home in time for your bath and tea, and I think Finn here has to pick up Liv from work.”

I was directing my voice towards the toddler in my arms but also sent a knowing look Finn’s way, one which caused the man’s eyes to widen in immediate realisation. ‘Liv’ was actually the lovely Olivia, Finn’s newest fling– only she had managed to last quite a while longer than the rest, a new record for him really. 

“Shit, yeah.” Finn muttered mostly to himself before he hurried on over to his desk in the far corner. I could only laugh quietly, Teddy joining in too when he noticed, and watched on as Finn hastily started to grab at an array of items, shoving them into his jean pockets. Phone. Wallet. Keys.

When he was finished, and somewhat out of breath, Finn spun back around towards us and shot an accusing brow our way, not too pleased about having been the source of our mirth. Teddy and I couldn't help ourselves then and laughed a little harder at his impervious expression. 

But with that all done and over with, I simply pressed my nose against the side of Teddy's head and smiled contently into his curls whilst Finn merely rolled his eyes at the two of us, chuckling before he made a start for the door. I followed just behind him, Teddy's backpack slung low over my shoulder and a happy little boy nestled in my arms.

***

People lover @/user1 Imagine being a mediocre radio host and thinking you know the ins and outs of the music industry.. #CancelMouse

102 @/user2  Don't mind me, reckon I just found my new favourite radio show:)

Ugh! @/user3 Mouse sounded proper excited today but switched up so quick when that 75 bloke came up://

Soloveme @/user4 Hate to see people supporting toxic behaviour, sit down. 

Milk @/user5 Don’t hate me, I'll forever be a matty girlie!! But @Mouseonamic I kinda agree??

Paris @/user6 Do you think he’s seen it yet? > Too_shy @/user7 Probably, it’s trending rn >> Drummepls @/user8 Hope he’s okay and doesn’t take it as a personal attack.. 

He should’ve known really.

He should’ve fucking known.

Even in his drunken state he should have known not to look at what they were all fucking saying about him. Slumped on the floor of his hotel room, propped up against the bathroom door, too exhausted to think about moving, let alone try.

He’d only heard a small snippet, caught the last of a conversation on it in a cab ride back from the club the band had found themselves in. But he had heard it, and he had listened. 

"He's got the whole world falling at his feet." He fucking wished. "Changed." Too right. "A load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that- but now I'm not too sure." Laughable, man. "It's just a bit sad." The story of his fucking life. "Potential." When’s he never not disappointing someone? "Lacks passion." Passion lies in living, mate, and he hasn't felt alive in a very long time. 

"Not what it used to be." Who he used to be.

He lit another cigarette from a crumpled pack he’d pulled from his back pocket and watched on as a curl of smoke unfurled in the air. He only wished he’d gone and brought something upstairs with him, or grabbed one of them little bottles from the minibar before he had decided he’d needed a piss. But if he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine it all going dark, the world just fading around him, and the cigarette was suddenly enough.

Though, even then he still couldn’t quite muffle the loud, pitying laugh that escaped him as he continued to scroll through the mass of tweets that never faltered on his phone. They were like a freight train, unable to stop.

Matty wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Never had he ever felt so fucking lost. Desperate for everything to just pause for a simple second. To stop and just leave him alone for a bit. To have the world let him wallow in the dark dank pit he's hollowed out for himself.

But what a fucking life, hey?

Carelessly, Matty thumbed across the dimming screen, his intoxicated mind too focused on the task at hand to remember why exactly it was he was even sitting there on the cold bathroom floor. Something to do with Hann, he supposed, or George. Perhaps another heated encounter? Probably.

The sound of his phone's keyboard echoed off the surrounding walls and he breathed out a self-depreciating chuckle when he clicked send on the tweet he’d been attempting to curate, not caring enough for the consequences. Hardly even thinking, in truth. 

He was far too gone to care anymore, already knew firsthand what the repercussions would be tomorrow. But at that moment, he just wanted honesty. To tell the truth, for once. To let them all know that he knew he was a shit excuse for a person.

What more could the world possibly say anyway? 

Everyone around him was the same. He was simply just a puppet on a string. They’d make him sing and dance until the day he finally wrapped those wired strings tightly around his neck, and then all they'd be able to do is sit back and watch the show. And he'd enjoy every unabating second of it.

Matty @/trumanblack 10s ago Radio shows are sick man, gotta love them! And I sort of am sad haha. And I do lie? We all lie, I spose. But just listen to the radio, kids! Open your ears!

He laughed silently after, thoroughly amused with himself, and tossed the phone off somewhere off to the side so that he wouldn’t have to look at it again. 

Bullshit. It was all just fucking bullshit.

[suzukiblu]

WIP snippets: Tim/Kon!!! :)

"You told Arrowette you'd be a good boy while she was gone, didn't you?" Robin reminds him, licking his lips, and oh no, Kon thinks with no small amount of dread. "So be good for me."

"That is really not what she meant by that," Kon says hopefully not as feebly as he feels like he's saying it. Just–hopefully.

"She did explicitly say you should make out with me," Robin also reminds him. Kon is very, very uncomfortable with this situation. In several ways, is Kon uncomfortable with this situation.

"Yeah, well, that's because you're currently all jacked up on love spell mind control or whatever and think you want me to," he says. "Not actually a great makeout motivator, in my personal opinion."

"I might be. Or maybe I just wanted everyone else to leave the two of us alone for a little while," Robin murmurs lowly, which is admittedly something he would be insane enough to do, actual literal freak that he is, but also Kon isn't completely stupid, thanks.

"You definitely are," he says.

"Don't you like the attention, kid?" Robin says coaxingly, stroking a hand down his cheek, and Kon grimaces a little bit more than he wants to let himself grimace.

"Dude," he says. "I know you're kinda compromised right now but could you not be an asshole about me being–whatever, never mind, just–"

Robin . . . frowns, faintly. His fingers still against Kon's face.

"About you being what?" he asks.

"Just–I know I'm easy, alright, you don't have to rub it in," Kon says just a little tightly, and tries not to grit his teeth. Although yeah, well, that whole thing does explain why bespelled/drugged/whatever Robin picked him of all people to fixate on. Obviously. Bat-training and all, going for the weak link. Just . . .

He wishes it didn't, he guesses.

That's all.

"Superboy," Robin says, still just barely frowning.

"Look, it's fine, I mean obviously that's why you picked me to jump, just–" Kon says, and struggles to say, and just . . . and just . . . "I don't care if you think I'm a whore or whatever. Just please stop saying things you think will get me to be fucked up enough to literally assault you, okay?"

"I picked you because you're my favorite," Robin says.

Kon . . . blinks.

"What?" he says.

"You're my favorite," Robin says. "And I trust you. You'll make it good. You won't hurt me."

"Shut up," Kon chokes, because yeah, Robin lies all the time, but that lie . . .

That's not fucking fair.

Not that lie.

"You're my best friend," Robin tells him softly, stroking his face again.

Kon wants to kill somebody. Ideally whoever fucked up Robin's brain on the mind control maybe-drugs, but maybe he won't be that picky, if it actually comes down to it.

"I don't even know what you look like without that mask on," he says. "Or your name. Or anything about you that isn't superhero shit."

"And you're my best friend," Robin repeats.

Kon might tell him how absolutely fucking depressing that sounds, but it's not like he has room to talk about having a non-hero life. That is pretty much the literal opposite of what he has room to talk about, in fact.

"You're my best friend too," is what he's stupid enough to say instead, even though Robin's just lying to him because he's all fucked up right now and would probably say any stupid thing that'd get him goddamn laid. "And I'm definitely not gonna hurt you."

"I know," Robin says, and smiles, and leans down to kiss him.

Kon lets him.

Then he gets his TTK around the grapple line wrapping him up and fucking snaps it around Robin's body while the other's distracted.

"Ah!" Robin hisses. Kon shoves him off his lap; keeps a grip on the grapple line and Robin both with his TTK. Keeps him still with his TTK.

He fucking hates that Robin smiled at him like that when it was a lie.

[inkblackorchid]

WIP Snippet 5 (Ch. 3)

Pulling the door open, Aki stuck her head out, looking both ways in the relatively narrow alley outside. When her eyes surveyed what little she could see of the plaza from her position, it turned out the engine she heard was indeed a familiar one. Yet, nothing could have prepared her for a chance encounter with its rider today.

Almost in the same moment as Aki finally left the building to approach her own runner, the unexpected acquaintance seemed to spot her, immediately making a beeline in her direction.

A white riding suit, a knight-like helmet, and the distinct rumble of what Yusei had once called a bastardised French engine—seeing as it had apparently been repaired with parts from several different countries over time—announced the arrival of Sherry, who came to a halt barely a metre away from Aki's runner, immediately pulling off her helmet as she turned off her engine.

"Finally, I catch one of you again," Sherry began talking without fanfare, evidently not intending to bother with a greeting.

Debating whether she even had the energy to hold a conversation with the other right now, with how high-strung she already was, Aki spoke on a sigh, "Sherry. Fancy meeting you here."

"Uhhhh, hi there?" Carly, who had closed and locked the door behind herself in between, said to the blonde, waving innocently.

Ignoring her completely, Sherry asked Aki, "Are Yusei and your other friends inside?"

"No," Aki told her quickly, "We're the only ones here, and we're not staying. We need to get going again." Perhaps her tone was a little more brusque than intended, but if there was one thing she knew about Sherry, then that she liked clear answers, that she liked them fast, and that she could get irritating if she didn't get them fast enough.

As she placed her duel disk down on her runner again, she saw Sherry looking her up and down out of the corner of her eye. "When will any of you be back?"

"We don't know," Aki told her, hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible—and preferably without sharing the exact details of everything that was going on right now.

"Quoi? What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" Sherry asked, with an urgency in her voice that told Aki she probably wanted something from their group.

It was Carly who answered, "Well ummm... We kind of have a situation going on right now. So the boys won't be home for a while. And neither will Aki."

Now seemingly choosing to take note of the other woman's presence, Sherry looked Carly over with critical eyes. "I've seen you around here before. Who are you?" With her tone as curt and business-like as always, Sherry's question sounded less like a polite enquiry and more like a demand at a cross-examination.

Carly blinked a few times, but rather than bristling immediately, she caught herself and even managed to inject some fake cheer into her voice as she said, "Carly Nagisa, reporter at the Red-Eyes duel magazine. Nice to meet you. Properly, I mean. Sherry Leblanc, right? We've technically met before, I'm here frequently. Which you... may not have noticed, I guess."

Sherry acknowledged the introduction with barely more than a hum. Before she could ask anything further, however, Aki turned to face her fully and took it upon herself to add, "Carly is our friend and Jack's girlfriend. And she knows basically all about Iliaster, since I'm guessing that's a concern for you."

Though Sherry's eyes briefly jumped to her, with a strange mix of sharpness and curiosity in them, they were quick to come to rest on Carly again as she asked, "Atlas has a girlfriend? Wonders never cease."

[sp0o0kylights]

oho? I love playing with character perceptions, so number 11 got my immediate interest!

AND THE LAST ASK for real thank you for sending in so many and another thank you to anyone who sent in any ask at all this was a blast:

Turns out this connected to a different document. I desperately need to clean out my drive ANWAY

11! "A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends, behind for Nancy Wheeler. This was a lie."

Snippet:

A thump as the object rolled out of its bag and onto the floor.

It was a wooden baseball bat, same as one might find anywhere--with one noticeable difference.

"Steve." Eddie said simply, eyes raking over the haphazardly hammered nails, some of which were bent from use, "What the hell is this?" 

Steve at least, had the good graces to look abashed. "Ahhh…" He said, trailing off as he clearly fished for anything other than the truth and came up empty. "A nailbat?"

Spoken out loud it even sounded like a fucking fantasy weapon.

"Is that blood all over it?" Eddie asked, tone amazingly even given the panic that galloped wildly through his chest. 

The fucking thing wasn't entirely covered but there was unmistakable red and black splatter that was either the product of the world's best prop artist, or the real deal.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think any of the blood is human." Steve said, who overall looked more embarrassed than anything.

Like Eddie has found his porno mags, and not whatever the hell this was. 

"No Steve, that does not make me feel better." Eddie managed to get out, the words a little strangled. "You don't think the blood's human? What the hell do you think it is!?"

Because he had to know. There was no way he could not know, with a literal McGuffin, sitting in between them.  

In fact this entire set up felt like something right of of a D&D scene and once Eddie was done panicking, he kinda wanted to write down a few notes. 

There was a very long, dedicated pause, where once again it became very clear Steve was racking his brain for a lie. 

Eddie let it go on, because he wanted to hear what possible excuse the guy could come up for this. 

Particularly given that Eddie had once shared an English class with him. Steve Harrington was about as imaginative as a child's first chapter book (and frankly, the book probably knew more words.)

"Rabid dogs?" Steve said, sounding more like he was guessing than anything else.  

How he had gotten away with lying to the cops about those house parties of his was a downright mystery.

"Rabid dogs that just might be human." Eddie deadpanned. 

Steve winced.

"I might have swung it at a few people." He admitted.

"No shit." Eddie said, staring at him flatly. It almost felt like he was two people for a moment--a perfectly calm one, demanding answers out of a nervous and clearly spooked Steve Harrington like disappointed mother discovering a baggie of weed--and a person who wanted to fucking book it, immediately.

Before Harrington lost his shit and started swinging the nailbat at him. 

There was no reason for King Steve, richest boy in town and previously its most popular (though given Hargroves penchant for violence, Eddie didn't doubt a lot of people would accept Steve back with open arms so long as the guy stood in between them) to own a clearly used homemade weapon. 

"Okay look, you've caught me in a lot of lies and I'm gonna be real with you, this one came with an NDA." Steve said finally, like that wasn't a wild string of words. "The less you know about it, the better."

And that, Eddie could agree with.

[zinder-fox]

Short little snippet of a magic/witch-y AU where Dazai is a witch with a talent for breaking and reversing spells/curses, and Atsushi has been cursed with a sporadic, uncontrollable transformation into a tiger-like beast that gradually erodes his magic and mind.

I'm not currently planning to do anything else with this idea, so figured I'd just drop it here. Inspired by one of the whumptober prompts: "only for emergencies" (So yes, this is a bit angst-y. This is also about as close as I get to a drabble, ~500 words.)

~~~~~

"Atsushi. Promise me you'll never take this off if I'm not around." Dazai is deadly serious and skips a greeting entirely.

"I-I guess?" Atsushi responds, taking hold of the item being pressed into his hands and starting to fiddle with the soft leather of what seems to be a collar in his hands.

"No." Dazai says sharply, rejecting the halfhearted agreement.. "Promise me."

"Why does it matter if you're around?" Confusion bleeding into his voice as he watches Dazai. The brunet steps closer, soft hands taking the collar from him and clasping it around his neck.

"Swear to me, Atsushi. I need you to promise to wear it." Dazai looks almost manic, fearful even. "If you don't—if you take it off without me, your curse could change you. Permanently."

"But the change has never been permanent before!" Atsushi blurts, eyes wide as recollections of more than half a dozen prior transformations flash through his mind. And just as many times waking up with Dazai watching over him.

"Not yet it hasn't. But it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to reverse. I don't want to lose you, and if too much time passes before I start countering it—"

"—then I'll lose my mind to the beast forever."

~~~~~

Atsushi stares numbly ahead. Everything is over. The worst-case scenario has happened.

His fingers reach up and find the silver clasp of the collar as cruel, deranged laughter rings in his ears—sounding from both closer and further away than it should. The leather is smooth and worn, but he carefully slides the end free of the buckle. Atsushi doesn't let go, doesn't drop it to the floor. Instead, he carefully folds the collar that's been on his neck for years now and reverently places it onto the dark, wooden nightstand where the silver runes carefully painted and maintained reflect the light of the moon outside.

"I'm so sorry, Osamu. I have to break my promise."

Atsushi turns away, tearing his gaze off the leather and back toward the glinting violet eyes and pale skin and crazed, inhuman cackling. He digs deep within himself and draws on his curse willingly for the first time. It resists, at first—dormant for years now—before triggering abruptly in the same ghastly, horrific transformation from his memories.

As his bones snap and shatter, re-shaping into the beast his curse forces him to become—as the claws burst from the tips of his fingers and too-large fangs crowd his mouth before his jaw has grown to accommodate them—as the prickling needle-like sensation of fur sprouting from his skin nearly makes him cry out in shock, Atsushi looks down. The last thing his human eyes will ever see is deep brown hair matted with blood and the shocking white of bones protruding from pale skin in every direction like jagged spikes reaching for the heavens.

Dazai is long gone, and Atsushi has no reason to tether himself to this world any longer.

His only hope—his final hope—is that the beast will avenge them both.

[wickjump]

I'M SORRY THIS ISNT ABT MTT + CREPIC POLY BUT OGNYKHMHMH I NEED TO ASK THIS DESPERATELY.

Would milkbone hang out w the dogs in UT like greater dog n doggo n stuff more often because yk milkbone............ Not to make him an animal or smth ofc,,,, ALSOALSOALSALSOSSOO. I WANNA ASK ON WHY MILKBONE WON'T ATTACK ASRIELS BUT THAT'S LORE WORTHY STUFF RIGHT THERE.

AN OC ASK?????? FOR ME????? I MUST BE DREAMING OH MY GOD. DO NOR APOLOGIZE THIS IS THE BEST THING TO EVER HAPPENTO ME. I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW WORDS CANNOT DO IT JUSTICE OKAY!!!!!

milkbone would probably initially hang out with the more anthropomorphic members of the dog group, ie dogamy, dogaressa, and doggo rather than greater + lesser dog. he has an odd feeling when around greater and lesser dog but doesn’t look too deep into it. doggo, dogamy, and dogaressa are more. sapient? i guess? milkbone’s more sly than classic sans, the sort of person your more socially adapted friend would point out and say ‘don’t talk to him he’ll scam you out of 20 dollars and your left shoe’.

but he can relate to the hound patrol (is that what they’re called?) to an extent, even if he might distance himself at times out of discomfort. while he gets their love for certain things, there’s a sort of animal thing about them he feels off around. they like petting, they smoke dog treats, they bark and yip and do all sorts of dog things that he doesn’t do, and he doesn’t want to associate with something so… animal. this isn’t a dig at them, even if he mistakes his discomfort towards those things as discomfort towards them. before his au’s plot “went down” he didn’t mind hanging out with them, and probably cracked a lot of jokes about being an ‘honorary dog’ or something. he just doesn’t like being compared to a dog, or any sort of animal, now. dehumanization is my most favorite trope so he gets all of it.

as for why milkbone wont attack asriels, he was asriel’s caretaker for a while. the au they’re both from, undertrap, is still a work in progress, but ive established a familial bond with them. the general idea of undertrap is that monsters were viewed as less than human, kept as novelties and all that, and to escape it they went underground, where they lived happily for hundreds of years. however, humans eventually found them when looking for chara, who had gone missing. chara was angry about this because their intent was never to hurt their new family, blah blah, but most monsters were taken back to the surface against their will.

two of those monsters were asriel and sans, aka milkbone, who were both looking for their families whom they got separated from, as they managed to escape the humans. this is why milkbone doesn’t like being dehumanized—outside the general discomfort that comes from it, he was quite literally treated as an animal as every other monster was.

over time sans became a familial figure to asriel, an older brother of sorts. still working out the kinks, but so far i think that at the end of it they’d find asgore and then humans try to kill them all, sans steals part of asgore’s soul to keep himself alive whilst he dusts, blah blah. and then! memory loss! bro doesn’t know who he is or what he is! he just has brief snippets of memories and discomforts, and while he’s done dirty work for his clients before, an asriel is the one monster (outside of papyri) he feels an extreme discomfort doing any harm towards.

he is canonically a multiversal character due to this split second decision throwing his fate off. by all means he was supposed to die there, but he didn’t. and his code, not knowing what to do, basically threw him out of the au until someone else approached him and he got introduced to the multiverse.

this is what im thinking anyway, he’s still hugely in development,, fun fact though! his collar wasn’t a choice he made to have, it was given to him, but he couldn’t take it off at the time and now, since he doesn’t remember the reason he has it, still wears it under the assumption ‘past’ him had picked it out himself.

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT HIM GAH. man if only we hadn’t established a multiversal status quo id love for him to have been popular in 2016 😔 unfortunately i was stupid and also eleven years old with unrestricted internet access, and not exactly an artist of sorts either. maybe ill write a long fic about him and get some people to think he’s cool. i mean undereats and post sans got popular, and i think tear and stitch are too but i might be biased cause i love them. i can do this

ANYWAY YEAH THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON IM GIVING YOU A LITTLE KISSY ON THE HEAD :333

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday!! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog @facewithoutheart @shrekgogurt @rimeswithpurple @thewholelemon unsexy line break to ward against the tag curse @monbons and @cutestkilla!! I love seeing what everyone's working on <3

Summer is underway for me! I've started working evenings and weekends at my local library again and I missed this job. Today I had to hunt down twelve books that had the wrong shelf location, very exciting stuff. And I've finally finished organizing all the children's book bins, which had been in disarray ever since I left for the school year.

Been writing and editing this week!! Here's a snippet from my COBB fic. (Context? What's that?)

“What the—?” she slides her laptop away and leans closer to me, beckoning me with a finger. “Where’d you get that? What the fuck happened?” I don’t move any closer. “What do you think? Figure it out yourself.” “Figure it out yourthelf,” Fiona mocks—the asshole and she darts out to grab my arm, pulling me in closer. “Let me look at it.” I shake her hand off of me—still too on edge for that. And I keep my mouth resolutely shut. “Say ‘Ahhh’” she says, tapping my jaw. “Fuck off.”

more under the cut because i have yet to learn brevity

And I've been steadily working on editing more and more chapters of Proof of Life! I actually love editing, is that normal? How do you all feel about editing? There's no full snippet I can give without ruining the Impact this chapter will hopefully have, but here's four lines of dialogue said to Baz:

“No food, no water, nothing but blood, huh?”

“No, I don’t regret it. I would make that choice again and again.”

“No offence, Basil, that is the most stupid thing I’ve heard.”

“That’s not because you’re a vampire, that’s because you were freaking out."

And two lines of dialogue said to Simon:

“You’re not allowed to be right, it makes you insufferable.”

“Why would you want a vampire to come back?”

Feel free to guess who's talking (there's no repeats) but when I say these are the only lines I could share, I mean it, anything else would have been way too much. Next time I'll have to switch it up and do a process post or something (even though I'm pretty sure my editing process is boring).

Tags and Hellos!

@run-for-chamo-miles @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @raenestee @artsyunderstudy @onepintobean

@prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16 @brendughh

@hertragedyconnoisseur @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs @fiend-for-culture @beastmonstertitan

@valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife @arthurkko @rbkzz @skeedelvee

@bookish-bogwitch @alexalexinii @brilla-brilla-estrellita

[continuous-spec]

Snippet from Chapter 6: Shepard and Garrus bicker over rifles in the Seratoma Saunas.

"Have you been to Thessia?" Shepard asked, pulling Garrus back to consciousness.

"Refueling station a system outside on my first tour," Garrus clipped as his eyes fluttered open.

"Right. That's still so weird to me, how y'all need to join and fight."

"Well, it's not like we're all fighting. There's research division, medical, manufacturing-"

"Somehow, I doubt you added to the great pursuit of knowledge in those fields. No offense."

Garrus scoffed and brought himself up on his forearms to look at her. The clay beads shifted with his movements, sounding like crashing water to stone. "I guess you wouldn't call drilling a hole in between a pirate's eyes from 500 meters away an academic pursuit, then, huh?"

Shepard lifted herself from the pool. The beads loudly moved with her and fell away from her. The orange residue of the clay beads haphazardly decorated her light blue uniform.

"No shit, 26th Armiger Legion?" Her eyes lit up with excitement.

Garrus tried not to laugh, imagining himself strapped into a jet propulsion system like the 26th, a group of infiltrators who literally rocketed themselves on the battlefield.

"Spirits, no, not those crazy flying bastards. I was just a marksman scout sniper."

"Damn, and here I was, just beginning to think you were interesting. What did you specialize in? Incisor? Viper? Widow?" Her voice bounced, almost vibrating like a turian as she listed off each rifle.

"You sure are asking a lot of questions for someone who's not that interested."

"I haven't held a rifle in four years. Humor me, please. Give me some shop talk."

"Mantis-" Garrus said with the word barely past his mandibles before Shepard interjected.

"Ugh! I hated that thing. One shot reload with shit recoil that couldn't even penetrate most armor. Now get me a Black Widow, and then we can talk."

"So you just wanted to make this about you?" Garrus said in an unamused tone. "Besides, if you actually know how to use the Mantis, the one shot is all you need."

"Whatever. I'll take my three with the Black Widow any day."

"I thought those ripped humans' arms off."

"Gene mods," she said with a flex of her arm. Her linear scars bowed with the movement. The blue glow of the sauna lights encompassed the pale skin of the hard muscle on her bicep. "The same reason I'm not blind and a foot taller."

"You could be shorter?"

"Six feet is quite tall for a human woman, thank you."

"It's all the same to me. I still have to crane my neck to talk down to you."

"You think you're so funny."

"I have my moments," Garrus said, his mandibles pressed into a smile.

"I wouldn't even give you that," Shepard said, returning his smile before submerging back into the clay beads.

Read the rest on Ao3

[l-in-the-light]

(Mis)adventures of Law with the Strawhats [fanfiction snippet, part 1]

"Torao!!" he cries out way too loudly. "Let's play that game again!!"

Law turns towards him, but doesn't answer immediately and it's not even because his mouth is full at the moment, he doesn't care about that.

"Again…?" he finally voices out, looking at no one in particular.

"What game?" asks Chopper. Usopp also curiously looks between Law and Luffy.

"We played that funny thing yesterday when you zoom up and down and throw a stone with dots on it!" Luffy exclaims.

"Is that why you missed breakfast today?" Usopp asks and Luffy nods fervently.

"I wish I didn't. Sanji, can you make me a breakfast now??"

"Breakfast after lunch, huh?" Sanji muses from behind the counter. "Sure"

"Thanks, you're the best!!"

Law frowns. "Just play it by yourself this time" he grumbles between bites.

"No way! You said it can't be played alone! Also I already forgot the rules…"

"There's no way you already forgot them!" Law protests, takes a look at Luffy, then his eyes dart to completely opposite direction. "Fine, but gather more people. It's boring with just two. Get four more"

"I didn't think it was boring with just the two of us" Luffy beams at him, takes bigger bite and shouts "So who wants to play with us??"

"You didn't exactly tell us what type of game it is" Usopp frowns, while Chopper is already shouting back "Me, I want!!"

"It's just a regular snake and ladders board game" Law answers despite the question not being directed at him.

"It's yours?" Robin asks. "Didn't take you for the type to keep board games around"

"My crew often dragged me to play with them"

"But isn't Snake and Ladders a game for kids?" Franky butts in. "It takes me back… Tom bought it for us once, but Iceburg was a party pooper and said he's not a kid anymore and in the end I had to teach Yokozuna to play with me instead"

Law has no idea who all those people he mentioned were, so he just ignores that part.

"It is. It's not like he would be able to understand any more complicated game" he says while gesturing towards Luffy, who just laughs in answer and says with his mouth still full: "That's right. Can't wait to play!"

"You still miss three more people" Law reminds him.

"Oh, right. Guys, who wants to play? It's gonna be fun!!"

"I guess I could make you the honour of God Usopp joining in, just so you have enough people. Know my mercy!" says Usopp while his nose extends all the way up to the ceilling.

"ME!" repeated Chopper.

"I already counted you in" says Law which made Chopper exclaim some loud, possibly not malignant noises.

"I would love to try!" Yamato exclaimes after swallowing a whole plate of food at once.

"Great! Then we have everyone!"

"You're one person short" points out Law and smirks when Luffy grumbles at that.

"Come on guys, Robin, join us! Nami? Zoro??"

"I want to relax reading a book" Robin replies, smiling.

"I have plans already. I need to catch up on my map drawing" Nami exclaims as she gets up from the table, already having finished her meal.

"I'm gonna train" answers Zoro shortly.

Luffy frowns, looking around the table again. "Franky? Brook? Sanji? Jimbei?"

"I'm too old for that" Jimbei answers. "I will leave you youngsters to that"

"Same here" Franky adds.

"I will be busy making desserts for the ladies" Sanji chimes in.

Brook looks around the Sunny's kitchen back and forth, till finally answering as well. "I will gladly join"

"GREAT! Now we have everyone, you can't say no anymore!!" Luffy turns to Law and extends his hands high up, like in a victory pose. Law eyes dart to him for a second, but he doesn't say anything, just gets up and walks towards the door.

"Torao?" Luffy asks after him.

"Gonna go fetch the game"

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

"So, how do we play it exactly?" Usopp asks. "Not that I don't know already, mind you, I'm just asking because there's no way Luffy remembers the rules!"

"It's true, I don't" Luffy says.

"We all start from this place" says Law, pointing his finger to the starting position on the board. "We take turns rolling the die till we reach the goal, which is here" his finger moves all the way up on the board. "Whenever you land on a field with a ladder, you go up, till you reach the top of it. When you land on snake, you slide down instead. That's all there is to it"

"What's a die?" asked Chopper. Law looks at him, then looks at all of them looking back at him, he pauses and closes his eyes for a moment, and then takes a square-like object in his fingers.

"This is a die. You roll it like that" he says and flips it in his fingers and lets it fall to the board, the die making a short wooden noise when it meets the surface. Everyone stares at it before the object finally stops, showing five dots on top.

"So that's the legendary die… Of course I already knew that. I had a dozen, no, two dozens of them back in the village. It's the first time I see one made out of wood" Usopp blabbles.

"So what do we do? Do we just add all the dots on each side of it?" asks Chopper, inspecting the square and poking it with his hoof. "It's kinda hard to see all the sides though"

"No, wait, Chopper, that wouldn't make any sense" said Usopp, putting on his serious face and poking his own nose. "It wouldn't matter then to roll the die, because the sides never change, so the result would be always the same"

"Oh" Chopper comments.

"I think I get it. It must be the result on the top that counts. So, five dots!" Usopp concludes his deduction.

"Ooooh, you're so smart, Usopp!!" Chopper cries out.

"Of course" Usopp exclaims, smashing his hand to his chest. "After all I played many games before and flipped dozen of dies"

"Dice" Law corrects him.

"Right, this one is actually special, because it's wooden and called a dice. I knew that" Usopp says, raising his voice just a bit. He looks at Law, moves his eyes from left to right, and finally makes some random gesture of flipping his fingers. Law turns to Luffy instead. "Choose the order"

"Order?"

"Of who goes first, second, and so on, all the way to the last person for the round"

"OH. Easy, I'm going first, because I'm gonna be the King of the Pirates and I'm the captain!"

"Unfair!" Usopp protests immediately. "Let's decide by luck, we can draw lots"

Luffy makes a face, but before he can say anything, Yamato already extends scraps of paper in their direction. "Let's do it! That's how you do it, right??" he asks.

"When did you manage to get that?" Luffy exclaims. "You're so fast!"

Yamato snickers at him, quickly scribbles something on the papers, and holds the pieces in her fist, so that whatever is written can't be seen, only the tops of paper. "Choose one!"

Everyone but Law extends their hands to draw one. Yamato looks at him expectantly.

"You draw first. Whatever will be left is mine" he explains.

"I can?? Really??" Yamato chirps, eyes sparkling. "Thanks!!" pulls one lot out. "Oh, I have number 2" and looks apologetically at Law. "Yours is six" and shows him his number. "I can trade with you if you want!"

"I can trade with you too, Torao!! Though I think I got the worst number…"

"It's fine, I don't really care"

"You're so kind!" Yamato cries out over everyone shouting their own numbers over each other.

Law just quickly proceeds to put down pawns on the starting point.

"So, who is the first?" he asks no one in particular.

"God Usopp!" says the man, flashing his teeth and showing off his scrap of paper with number 1 on it.

"Good. You will be yellow then"

"Wait, I don't get to decide?!"

"Nope"

"Why?! Who gave you the right?! This is important, the most important decision to make, the colors will change everything about the gameplay!"

"I'm the last one to go, the rules say I get to decide the pawns for everyone"

Usopp looks at him and narrows his eyes. Finally he says, while pointing his finger at him. "I will still sue you if I lose because of that"

"I will sue you too!!" Luffy exclaims, pointing his finger at Law as well.

"You? What for?"

"I don't know!" Luffy frowns. "Why should I sue Torao?"

"I dunno-" starts Usopp.

"For not trading with you" Brook says instead, trying to be helpful.

"Thanks Brook! I will sue Torao for not trading lots with me!"

"Do you even know what that word means?" Usopp asks, just in case.

"Nope! Shishishi!"

"I also don't know!" Chopper says, raising his hoof high in the air.

"Then you won't know" Law butts in which earns him another loud cry from Chopper.

"It means to force a person that has treated you unfairly or hurt you in some way to give you something or to do something for you to make up for it" Brook explains, which earns him a sideway look from Law.

"Eh, then I don't want to sue Torao" Luffy says. "It doesn't sound fun. Forcing people isn't fun" and Chopper shouts "I also don't want to!", just a heartbeat too late to be in unison with Luffy.

"Said someone who forced me to play" Law counters, leaving Luffy speechless for once and immediately looking away.

"It's all Usopp's fault anyway!" the captain finally says, showing a tongue in sniper's direction.

"How is it my fault?! Keep me out of it! I know nothing of it!!"

"Are we playing guys??" Yamato butts in, quickly moving his arms up and down and looking from the board to everyone.

"YES" Luffy, Usopp and Law answer a bit too loudly in unison, and Chopper just a moment too late, while Brook just laughs.

tbc.

(I guess? Should I?)

[nightxcreature]

Little snippet of something I started today.

AN: Hi! I'm working on my first fanfic in like 14 ??? years so if it absolutely sucks that's my bad, Buddy. I wanted to post a little snippet to get some feedback and see if I could somehow get the creative juices flowing enough that I can get back into writing. This snippet is not that long, so sorry about that. Anyway, if you like it, please let me know and if you hate it...let me know that, too, I guess. Any tips are greatly appreciated on my writing and also how to use this fucking app because I've been lurking here for years and never made a single post, so I don't know how anything works. If there are typos or incorrect grammar, it's because my hands are shaking so bad from how nervous I am doing this. (and because I drank a cold brew on an empty stomach)

Based in Season 13 x 2 "The Rising Son". Dean Winchester x GN!Reader ? not sure if I should do this as an OC or not. Tips, Criticism, and Reblogs are always appreciated. �� 18+ Only. Please don't steal my work, you don't have permission.

Warnings: Angst, language, writing while sleep deprived, and no proof reading

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“Are you breaking up with me right now?”

Dean made no move to react aside from a slight nod of his head and then, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

               Shock reverberates through me; he cannot be serious. I shake my head, “No, you’re not.”

                “I don’t think you get to decide when someone breaks up with you, Darlin’.” Dean says coolly, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Dean, I really don't think this is the time for this..." Sam starts, looking sympathetically in my direction.

                I shake off my initial shock, gaining control of myself and start toward our bed to grab my jacket, “You are not breaking up with me in this room, in some janky-ass motel, in front of your brother and some soulless prophet who uses Mr. Rogers to make his life decisions. We’re going to look for Jack, get our emotions in check, and then we can reevaluate this conversation.”

                He had moved to grab the door as Donatello and Sam rushed out as fast as they possibly could. Dean stopped me short of reaching the hallway and bent down to whisper slyly in my ear, “The only thing I’m gonna do is go to the nearest bar and find myself a good time.”                  

“Shut the fuck up.” I say as I shove past him out the door.

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Thank you for reading! As I said above, feedback is always appreciated.