#and it’s different than my usual writing style but honestly I’m digging it

[rosesofenvy]

I haven’t stopped thinking about this art since I saw it three weeks ago and wrote this in about two hours - malevolent has officially consumed my every thought

[summery-captain]

AuDHD traits Dirk Gently Displays - S1E5: Very Erectus

- You may follow the google docs file I'm writing everything down in, also! If you haven't read them yet, links to the first four episodes:

S1E1 - Horizons / S1E2 - Lost and Found / S1E3 - Rogue Wall Enthusiasts / S1E4 - Watkin

Click read more to read the analysis of the fifth episode! Tagging: @clockworkcheetah @urlocallesbiab @generalized-incompetence @amber-angel @goatygoat @frenchfriedgiraffe

> In the scene in the dinner, after they start driving to go look for the 'treasure' based on the map, Todd starts insisting that Dirk has a power and he immediately deflects and shuts down, avoiding eye contact completely, looking around. > The second Todd says "It's you. It's something about you", he goes "I'm not psychic, drop it." - of course this enters the parallel of the whole show being about the holistics having their ties to the universe in different ways, but I've had moments where people know I'm autistic and they start insisting on either me being actually "normal" and it being a superpower, trying to single me or sus me out, and I react similarly to Dirk in this scene > "No!! We are having this conversation", discomfort, "Here, let's do an experiment" EXTREME discomfort - sometimes you're just existing and people want a) an explanation of your whole life and b) for you to prove to be what you say you are > "Look, I can't explain it, ok? I learned a long time ago things don't always make sense the way people want them to" - AuDhd to its barest components– > "You're going to have to accept that too. To. Too. To. Too? Two?" - very common to lose a bit of sense of words both in autism (overwhelmed) and plus ADHD having the common comorbidity of dyslexia 

> Trading the Corvette for the beat down jeep, and when Todd goes "???" he says "It's just a rental!" - he makes decisions and when people express concern assumes it's based on something else, even if it doesn't make sense. So he just says it. I usually know for a fact I won't figure out what they're ACTUALLY judging me for - general inaptitude to read between the lines or figure out social situations 

> Martin tells Amanda, about Dirk, "He's got gourmet panic!" - he just like us, he just like us fr 

> "Don't start with the zen master thing, ok? It worked out a lot better before I figured out you were a mess, too" - people tend to assume we're more put together than they are because we showcase emotions differently 

> When Todd says he's gonna give up on digging, he just goes "Wouldn't this be just one more thing you walked away from, though" - not the sincerautistic murder-- Sometimes I also blurt out things and accidentally read people to filth without fully realizing. 

> He puts clues together and recognizes patterns then blurts it out, classic AuDHD style

 > "(...) I think life is like that too, just an endless series of room with puzzles and eventually one of them kills you" / "That's dark and depressing" - my fellow AuDHD ambassador just drops bombs and doesn't even realize 

> "What is it?" / "A thing" - stating the obvious shouldn't be as funny as it is but it never gets old 

> "You brought the cat?" / "Of course I did" - just. Very cute honestly but also, I too make decisions without fully realizing what it would entail, like bringing a kitten around with you while digging shit up 

> Todd starts venting to him and he's like. Confused - but yet again he tries his very best to support him, saying "When I look behind me, I can't see ahead of me" / "Are you saying dwelling on my past is holding me back?" / "No. I mean I literally can't see what's back there when I'm looking forward" - general literal thinking

> "You know what I was thinking about? When I was staring down at the barrel of that gun?" "...bullets?" - literal thinking part 321 electric boogaloo

> “Everything is connected. But only I can see it… I’m not.. Psychic. But I am something” yeah. Autistic-

> “The hunches don’t help me, ever” - we tend to figure stuff out based on our general understanding of them, trying to consciously clock things others don’t have to think twice about, but the same is true in reverse, where things that may seem impossible for neurotypicals to figure out, we see immediately. Although we may know these things, we’re usually not taken seriously enough or don’t have the bandwidth to actually prevent some things from happening to us or around us.

> “I don’t have any friends, I am always surrounded by bizarre and frightening states of disaster, and I am always alone” - sad part hours, but it’s unfortunately true: we’re always overwhelmed, surrounded by input we can’t filter out, and it is extremely hard to make and maintain friends. But Dirk has found his people and so will all of us, eventually!!

> When Todd says “And Dirk? I am your friend.” - immediate hope, bright red eyes, furrowed eyebrows, then IMMEDIATELY he schools his expression out to nonchalant, so yet again his big reactions don’t push people around him away (both true for Dirk and in our general experience, having had to tone yourself down your whole life does NUMBERS on you)

[elinorwritesstuff]

Writing Advice Answers #3: How do you keep canon characters in character?

How do you keep canon characters in characters while writing them?

So there’s two halves to that for me: Does the character sound like themself? And, “Would the character do/say this?” 

“Does the character sound like themself?” can be really easy, or really tricky, depending on the character. I’m from the northeast US, so a lot of characters sound enough like me that I don’t need to be super particular. So I start with reading/watching/playing the material a lot, which is something I’m usually already doing, because I like the material enough to want to write fanfic in that fandom. And you get a feel for which character is going to say “I’m leaving,” which character is going to say, “I’m gonna get outta here,” and which character is going to say, “I’ll take my leave now.” You can look at contractions: Some characters say “would have,” some characters say “would’ve,” and some characters say “woulda.” (Sometimes the difference between “would’ve” and “woulda” is a style thing, tbh, but you get what I mean.)

And then you have the tricky characters. I’m going to talk about Devil May Cry because that’s where all my recent works are: I was really nervous about writing V, and I still feel like I’m terrible at writing Nico. With V, now that I’ve been writing him for a while, I feel like I’ve hit my stride, and with him, and to do that I had to intentionally look for patterns and lines that stuck out to me. What I really noticed with V is that he tends to alternate overly formal/archaic speech or poetry with very informal speech. So if you look at his voicelines (I have watched the “All V cutscenes” and “All V voicelines” videos on youtube so many times), he’ll say “pin ‘em to the wall!” one time, and the next time he’ll say “Enjoy the taste of despair,” or “Your death shall end your nightmare.” And honestly my big secret to writing V is one line that always stuck out to me: the line at the end of the Nidhogg fight where he says, “‘The cut worm forgives the plow.’ Whaddaya say?” I use that pattern over and over: Formal speech and/or poetry quotes, and then the last line is very informal, and it always comes out sounding like V.

I have one big piece of advice for “Would the character do/say this?” Dig into the character’s backstory, motivations, personality, wants, fears, etc. the same way you do for your OCs. This is especially important if they’re not the viewpoint character. Why would they react this way? Why would they want to do one thing, and not another thing? What are they actually thinking?

Once again, you can also look for patterns. Go back to the original story and look for similar situations: what did they say or do then? This is great if there’s enough material in the story to come up with more than one similar situation and find what’s in common with their reaction. When they’re confronted with a difficult topic, are they open when they talk about it, or do they close down, or get angry, or crack a joke to change the subject? When they’re afraid, do they charge forward, or run away, or freeze.

For me, the big guns are to write part of a scene from their point of view. I had a fic a while back where I was having a lot of anxiety along the lines of “would the character really do this, or am I just having them do what I want them to do?” So I wrote the scene in question from their point of view to see if what they were thinking (or what they would have needed to be thinking in order to act they way they did) made sense. As a bonus, this can be really fun, and spending more time with the character’s voice can really help with writing their dialogue.

Sometimes the trickiest thing is letting go when you realize that they wouldn’t do or say the thing; I have a WIP with Vergil, and there’s one line I have marked to rewrite on the second draft because he just wouldn’t say it. But that’s not a big deal; it’s just one line. Then I have this Dante/OC idea that’s driving me nuts, because I really like it, but I came up with it while playing DMC4, when he’s very much in his confident scoundrel kind of persona. Then I watched the anime and played DMC5, where most of the time he’s dropped that persona, and spent more time thinking about who he really is, and realized he just wouldn’t react the way I had him reacting. And it’s driving me nuts because I haven’t found a way to fix it and still have the story go the way I want it to.

[mrs-gucci]

Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka​ for being the resident Studio 54 expert!  Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)​

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club. 

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges. 

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight. 

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there. 

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin.  “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair. 

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly. 

It doesn’t work. 

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on. 

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname. 

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high. 

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from. 

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his. 

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two. 

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position. 

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

[onmyliteraturebullshitagain]

Hi! For the questions, could you link your favourite fics, and favourite authors?

Also a lot of your fics are pretty well known but are there any that you’re particularly proud of that aren’t as popular?

Have a lovely day!! 😊

Ok, took me a bit to answer this, but here I am now :)

So I gotta link the fic that first got me into Zukka fanfic at all bc it was just so vivid and emotive and made me cry. Seriously, it gets me every time: "Mass Times Acceleration" by Haicrescendo (@sword-and-stars). Honestly, their stuff in general in just really well done. I haven't read the big series, but I've read basically all their one-shots and they're an excellent blend of soft and sexy and witty.

This may just be my bias because they beta for me and I beta for them, but I love the stuff by hereforthefic_onlythefic (@multifandomlurkertrash) a lot also. It's always funny and clever and tender all at once, although I've got a special soft spot for "Bird in the Hand" and anything with Duckie the chicken :)

For some random honorable mentions: the whole "kintsugi" series by discordiansamba, which is just Toph and Zuko friendship; "Real Slow" by surveycorpsjean, which is Fire Lord Zuko/Ambassador Sokka; "this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time exploding)" by melibee, which is angsty and emotional but also sweet and very found family + zukka. So there you go. Just my personal preferences and what I enjoy :)

As far as my own fics, 1) I'm very flattered that you think of my stuff as being pretty well known because I definitely feel like I'm still just over here dicking around in my side of the pool being surprised anyone else notices what I'm doing, and 2) I genuinely love all my stuff for different reasons because everything I write is an experiment and exploration for me. Even so, I suppose these are ones that might be slightly less well known than Midwest Bi Disaster Zukka (which is still my unending series and sort of my child) and hold a special place in my heart:

I'm always gonna feel strongly about "Syllables of Debris" just because it's the true essence of my nerd self, with the poetry, college setting, emotional trauma and growth, etc.

I'm still very fond of "Soul-Flowers" too just because it's the first canon-adjacent story I wrote and I really like the way the style and approach came out. Definitely different in some ways from my usual stuff.

Then I suppose, "Sleeping with Dragons" simply because it was inspired by the amazing art of @guiltyportfolio and there was a dragon and everything was technically canon compliant. Haha

Ok, so there's more answer than you ever probably wanted, but here we are!! I'm incapable of writing short, obviously. But thanks for this! It was fun to dig back through my bookmarks and works on A03! I hope you enjoyed!

[into-crazy]

tender

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader drabble

Summary: You're self-conscious about the smallness of your breasts. J's there to assure you that he adores them and you regardless.

Warnings- Cursing, insecure reader, self-conscious thoughts & talk, comfort, intimate touches, fluff(J style?), ages 18+

This is quite a little self-indulgent piece (what's new??) Might be tmi, but I'm a B cup & these are thoughts/feelings that pop up from time to time. I hope I didn't write J too ooc in this but.. A lady just really needs a bit of comfort from her J sometimes, you know?💜💚

I'd also like to give a special thanks & shout out to @ahsxual for encouraging me to post this & offering help when I needed it. Thank you darling!!💖💖

This has already been done before. Quite a few times actually, more than you'd want to acknowledge. And it leaves you with the same low feeling each time. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you think that this would somehow be different than the last times you've tried?

In front of the large mirror, you inspect your newest purchase. Which happens to be a push-up bra. You're not sure why you had thought it was a good idea to buy it, since regular bras and bralettes are your usual preferences. There was something about this one that looked promising back at the store, being it's a simple style bra with some lace detailing and a little extra padding. But now that you're here wearing it in the privacy of your bedroom, it's all just wrong.

Sure the bra helps with pushing up your boobs, making them appear larger and fuller. But that's all it really is, an illusion. A false appearance to what size they actually are. Well, now that doesn't make you feel any better. Honestly it makes you feel worse. Deceitful, like you are lying. Inevitably the truth comes out. Take it off, and your breasts remain the same. They'll always be the same. No amount of bras bought now or later will change that.

You wish you had bigger breasts.

The idea of implants had sounded appealing on a few occasions. Emphasis on few, because you'd soon scrap the concept as fast as it came and forget all about it. No matter how wonderful and tempting the visual seemed. You didn't really want to add those silicone fillers into your body. Nope, no thanks.

You just want to be able to fill up the spaces of certain tops and dresses. To have a fuller cleavage, especially when you wear low-cut shirts. To have the perfect amount to look lovely and plump in those pretty little strapless tops- it would also help with keeping the fabric in place instead of annoyingly siding downwards a lot. Which means tube tops are a hit or miss. Oh to feel amazing in a beautiful, plunging neckline dress. You've worn all of those at least once before and you'd felt nice in certain ones.

But then there were those pestering insecurities that'd find the convenience to creep up and attack you. Even when you're feeling rather confident in the moment. All it takes is one lingering glance at your chest and no other form of distraction, then there's nothing to stop the incoming negative thoughts and emotions. Flooding into your mind like a giant wave before you have the chance to secure a dam. And these thoughts can be very nasty sometimes, more relentless upon their resurface.

You felt lacking. Too small. Inadequate and unattractive.

How could J possibly find you attractive?

He doesn't. He doesn't. He doesn't.

What if he truly doesn't? That can't be right, surely he does. J always made it known. Showing how much he wants and adores you. He's never presented you with a reason to feel or think otherwise. No, this was all you and your doing. All of you jumping to such hasty conclusions which you feared could be true.

Does he secretly wish there was anything different about you? Would he prefer that you had larger breasts?

You were so caught up in your own self deprecating mindset, that you failed to notice J had stepped into the room. You'd left him in the living room to watch the Gotham news segment report about him and his last job. However, once the station moved on to the next topic, he quickly grew bored and moved(without even bothering to turn off the TV) in search for you. He came in rather quietly than loud and obnoxiously. Leaning against the doorway, he watched you stand there in your bra and jeans.

How he wished he could read what was going through that pretty buzzing head yours. A lot of times he was able to given his impressive attentiveness. He had an idea of what you were thinking from simply taking in how you were looking at yourself. Seeing you frustratingly fumble with the straps of the bra while examining your own chest in such displeasure and embarrassment. Now that, he didn't like that at all. So he felt the need to step in and put a stop to it.

"Knock, knock."

The sudden sound of J's voice and a couple taps on the door pulled you out of your head. Turning to face him, you timidly cross your arms over your chest in a swift attempt to cover the ridiculous garment. "Oh, h-hey. I um, didn't realize you were standing there. Did they get through your segment already?"

J quickly noted your uneasiness through your rigid posture and slightly higher tone. Similar to a child getting caught red-handed doing something either they shouldn't be doing or don't want anyone to see them doing. In this case, it was the latter. Without turning around, he smoothly closes the door and takes a couple slow steps towards you before stopping in his tracks. "Mm, ya missed the best parts. What're you up to in here?" Licking his scars as he nods at you. Though he already knew, he asked anyway.

"My bad, I didn't mean to miss it. I was just trying on some new things I'd bought." You drop your arms down to nervously pick at your fingers. Still trying to shield your chest from his gaze.

"I see that. So what's the deal with the uh, little garment there?" He points to the bra, "looks like you're not liking it too much."

"No, not really. I don't like it at all." You shake your head with an empty laugh.

"Then why're you wearing it?"

"I don't know. Because it.. it makes my boobs look bigger." You let it slip. That wasn't something you intended to say aloud. You're just already irritated and he keeps grilling you with questions you don't want to answer.

He shakes his head at you this time with an exaggerated squint, "it what- I'm sorry? Now I better have heard that wrong doll."

"No, you heard me correctly. Please J, don't make me say it again. I don't want to talk about it. I hate this damned thing enough already and I could do with less reminders." You huff, facing back towards the mirror to continue messing with the article. Hoping that J would let this go, take it as a cue to leave the room so you could remove the thing in peace.

Wishful thinking, because he didn't walk out. Deep down you'd known better but it was worth a shot. J was ever so stubborn, and he made it his notion to stay. Especially when he can sense that something's bothering you.

Coming closer he exhales heavily, "take it off. Better yet- here, let me."

You turn to see him dig into his pant pocket and pull out a switchblade. His gloveless hand clicks the blade open, but there's a slight pause in his advance. He's giving you the chance to decline whether you want him to continue or not. J would never force you, he'd never do anything to you without your consent. Of course, there are moments he could get ahead of himself when he sets his mind to something. But he'd always make sure to ask for your okay before he actually touches you. This was a silent ask.

You drop your arms down at your sides and look up at him with a small nod. Your wordless answer. He closes the space with a single, long stride. You allow him to skillfully slide the knife below the bridge, the blunt side of the metal blade feels warm against your skin. The weapon must've been tucked away very close to his thigh for the heat to transfer that abundantly. With a flick, he expertly slices the material right through the middle. As it opens up to reveal your breasts, he retracts to put the knife away while you awkwardly wiggle out of the bra. Letting it to fall down onto to floor, leaving your arms at your sides.

J's eyes skim your bare chest before landing on your eyes. "Ahh, now there's my pretty little bunny."

Your glance falls to the floor in embarrassment. "Pretty where?"

It was muttered lowly, but that was enough to get J to huff and roll his eyes with frustration. He hastily turns you around so that you're facing the mirror with him standing directly behind you. He's strong and swift in his movements, it's easy for him to maneuver you. Though even in his harsh motions, he can be somewhat gentler when he wants to be. When he needs to be, with you. You're instantly engulfed in his warmth as his arms go to wrap around your torso. Even without the thicker layers of his trench coat, blazer and vest, he's constantly hot. Both of his large hands capture each of your breasts and he draws you against his body. His darkened eyes lock with yours through the mirror.

"Right here." He breathes lowly.

You release a quiet sigh as you try to halt the tears from building behind your eyes. Being quite stubborn yourself, you refuse to cry. Which is extremely difficult with the sight of J's hands on you. Your breasts barely take up any space in his massive palms. It's downright humiliating. You gather the voice to speak. "J.. I-I appreciate that you're trying. I really do. But, this isn't helping me feel any better. I mean, look. I don't even fill up your hands."

"So what?"

"So I'm too small!" You blurt almost immediately. "There, you want me to say it directly? Well there it is! My boobs are too small. I wish they were bigger and looked nicer."

His hands slide down from your chest to rest at your hips. "I don't see anything wrong with 'em."

"Oh come on, you don't have to lie to me J. I know they're small. I feel like I'm just not enough. I wish I had big beautiful breasts. For me, and well- for you."

J listened attentively to your confession, heard how your voice is on the brink of crying. He knew about your insecurities and that you'd get self-conscious about certain things, but he wasn't aware of how bad they could get. You'd been really good at hiding them. When brought up occasionally, they were usually brushed off as nothing. But you could only bottle the emotions up for so long.

He couldn't fully grasp onto why you felt these things. There wasn't anything wrong with you in his eyes and mind. And believe him, because he never has a problem with pointing out the many flaws he finds in other people. Although most of those things were in how those so-called "civilized" people acted and behaved, not so much in how they looked. Other than that, he didn't pay any mind nor did he give a damn. J can make an exception for you because you are the only person he cares about and even he used to know what that feeling was like. He understood that these insecurities ran deep and continued to bother you, so he deemed the least he could do was listen. As for the thought that you felt you needed to look a certain way- or have more of something- for him, well he's going to have to shut that down real quick. He doesn't want you to think or feel that way, ever.

Tongue darting out to lick his red painted lips, he ponders his next words carefully. "Well.. they ah, look nice to me." You scoff unbelievably at his response and he continues, "I'm serious, doll." His grip shifts up to your breasts again, giving them a firm yet tender squeeze as he lowers his head to breathe in your ear. "Gorgeous.. all of you.." His lips brush lightly against your lobe, helping to ease your body and mind along with his low words. "I like what you've got. There's no more or no less of ya that I could want. I know I don't exactly tell ya that a lot. It's only because I figured you already knew."

His tone might've sounded a bit awkward, but you understand he is being sincere. This is not his demeanor but the fact that he's trying means a lot to you. You place your hands over his rough ones, which are still caressing your upper half. Taking a brief moment to marvel them, holding you with the intention of never letting go. His hands are dry and in need of some lotion, his fingernails grown out a bit since the last time he trimmed them, and there's speckles of dried greasepaint on his fingers. These hands are responsible for taking many lives and could end yours just as easily. But instead, they're keeping you together. They're hands you've become all familiar with attached to the man who manages to surprise you with something new every day. A man you wouldn't have any other way.

"Yeah, I know," you sigh, "and I'm sorry for snapping. It's just.. I guess I can't see what you do. I don't get what it is you find so beautiful or desirable about me. I take a long look at myself sometimes, and I don't feel the least bit attractive." You retort back to playing it off with a laugh.

J hums, leisurely shifting your combined weight between each of your legs. He won't fall for nor will he tolerate that front and unacceptable comment about yourself. "Is that so? Well that simply won't do. Looks like I oughta change that-" Suddenly he twirls you around to face him entirely. Pulling you flush against him, he growls, "right now." A grin stretches across his scarred cheeks as you release a fit of giggles. Finally, one of his favorite sounds and a sweet, real smile to accompany.

"Really?" You grab his shoulders to steady your footing, gazing up at him adoringly. Only J can tower over and peer at you with that ceaselessly menacing look in his eyes and still manage to make you feel completely safe and secure. It's not strange. You don't question it anymore. The curiosity of that notion stopped a while ago. Now you bask in the comfort it brings.

"Mhm, come here." He purrs tugging you backwards towards the bed. "I want ya in my lap facing me. You've got all my time today sweets."

Shyly complying, you happily let him guide you to your shared bed to do as he pleased. Which involved lots of appreciative caresses, enamored stares, lingering touches, deep kisses, and affectionate love bites. He made sure to give special attention to your breasts. Worshipping them with any and every type of touch he could provide. Those touches only got more firmer- rougher- as time progressed. When it came to intimacy, J couldn’t stay lenient for a long period of time, it wasn’t in his manner. Nonetheless, you appreciated all of his affections the same. Not a lot was said and there really didn't have to be. He'd gotten his point across to you.

J was always a man of action, he spoke more truth with his body than with words. It's in the way he'd touch and look at you which spoke so much. Occasionally, he chose to indulge you with words. Though it was never anything remotely gushy and touchy-feely like- expressing any profound feelings or direct proclamations of love- as that wasn't him. However you understood him through what ever language he chose to communicate to you with. Through those elaborate languages could you find the confessions he didn't speak aloud. You'd understand, for they were there only for you.

This was supposed to be a drabble, oops. I don't know what happened😅

[newtonsheffield]

Hi! I love B&S so much and I just wanted to say that your work is so perfect for getting out of my head. Every night I log on and read your drabbles or headcanons and no joke, it help calms me enough to sleep ❤️

That being said, I was wondering if you had any hurt/comfort with Benedict and Sophie? I can’t get this thought out of my head that she may be really worried that he searched for her for so long and was disappointed with their relationship after building it up in his head. So maybe some Sophie angst with Benedict comforting her and telling her how much he loves their relationships??

Thank you again for everything you’ve created!

Hello!

I’ll be honest, I use writing these as a bit of an escape as well so it’s nice that other people find some sort of calmness in my very chaotic writing style! And as long as it’s not putting you to sleep from boredom, I’ll take it! But honestly, thank you so much for your kindness towards my work I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve it but I am very very thankful for it!

Okay! I s would be a very real concern for anyone no? Going out with a guy that supposedly looked for you for 12 months? Talk about pressure man. Anyway! Let’s dive in and torture Sophie a little.

Sophie Beckett could admit, in the early months of her relationship with Benedict Bridgerton, she was nervous a good 75% of the time she was with him. Or in fact any member of the Bridgerton family. As though Violet would stand at the end of their Sunday dinner and say Sophie this has been lovely but it’s time for you to leave Ben alone now Sweetheart. Or Kate would hand her a bag at the end of brunch and say And now all the trash can leave together. It wasn’t that she didn’t think the relationship was going well, Benedict seemed perfectly happy when he hummed Taylor Swift songs in her ear as they fell asleep with their legs intertwined but, as she’d never been good enough for anyone before she couldn’t possibly imagine how she’d ever be good enough for this man. Or his terribly kind family.

Sophie was an independent person by necessity if not By nature. And so asking for help had become something that she’d rather walk across hot coals to do. She still remembered Benedict’s absolutely bewildered face when she flopped down on his couch and explained that she’d spent all day hauling a new bookshelf flat pack up the three flights of stairs to her tiny little flat and them assembling it. Why didn’t you ask me? He’d said, his brow furrowing in confusion. Sophie who’d been barely paying attention as she took off the mittens Benedict’s sister Daphne had thrust into her hands last week at dinner (You and Ben have Green to match your eyes, Daphne had said and Sophie had had to choke back tears as she’d looked around the room at everyone trying on their new mittens, Lucy batting Gregory on the nose with their matching bright red ones) said Ask you what? And Ben had eyed her carefully Ask me to help with your bookshelf? Lifting heavy things is what we boyfriends do according to Greg and Anthony. And Sophie had stopped dead, because she knew if she’d called him he would have cancelled his day, driven her to IKEA and assembled whatever she wanted. She’d thought about it last night even but she hadn’t been able too because her step mother’s voice had rung through her mind Will you ever stop being a burden, Sophia? But how could she tell Ben that without being even more of a burden so she just shrugged and said At least I don’t have to work out now. And Ben had laughed and said Just call me next time, I’ll bring the boys if it’s too big a job. They won’t mind. And Sophie couldn’t quite manage to choke out that she would though

Sophie had tried desperately to get out of coming to the awards night with Benedict. Desperately. But then he’d looked at her with his sad eyes and said But I think my editorial with Eddie is going to win! And she’d given in. And she really did want to be there to support him, she did. But god, how was she going to stand in that room and feel enough for him when she couldn’t even do it in their house. And she knew it wasn’t fair, she knew that Ben loved her she felt it all the time, she just wished she could deserve it. And so she’d found herself very panickedly on the phone once more begging Kate Bridgerton for some kind of assistance and Kate had tugged her upstairs to a closet, looked mournfully down at her pregnant stomach and said Someone May as well enjoy them. And so here she sat sandwiched between Ben whose hand was firmly wrapped around her shoulder and Edwina Sheffield who a person couldn’t help but feel painfully inadequate next too when she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the room, and to make matters worse, unfairly kind, trying desperately to look as though she fitted in in Kate’s borrowed dress. And then, across the room she’d seen her. And her body went cold.

Sophie had excused herself into the corridor as soon as the dinner portion was done, trying desperately to calm her breathing down, there was no need to panic, she probably hadn’t even seen her, she prayed she hadn’t at least, but god wasn’t listening. Sophie Beckett, Well well well like mother like daughter Her step sister Rosamund’s voice rang through the hall and Sophie was rooted to the spot, her fingernails digging into her palms in a desperate bid to keep herself from crying Clawing your way up the social ladder by getting on your knees. I’ll admit, it was nice of him to take you out for a night in thanks but you don’t think he’s actually going to marry trash like- But A different voice cut across hers like ice, and Rosamund’s face paled as Edwina said firmly Sophie, there you are! Ben And I have been looking for you! Rosamund, such a surprise to see you I wasn’t aware they usually invited car show models. And then she took Sophie, very stunned at the cold tone where she’d only ever known warmth from Edwina,firmly by the arm and marched her away.

Before Sophie knew what was happening Edwina had whispered firmly in her ear Don’t listen to a word she said, Sophie, you are so incredible I’m going to get Ben. And Sophie could hear and and odd gasping noise that she realised was coming from her when tears hit the back of her hand. And then Ben’s voice, cracking with emotion was saying Soph? And she couldn’t help but collapse against him, her tears soaking into the chest of his very expensive tuxedo. Another thing she’d ruined for him. And he held her as she cried, right there in an alleyway until her breathing evened out and she whispered into the night I’m sorry I ruined everything, and I’m sorry I can’t be who you deserve. And Benedict had pulled back suddenly, startling her a little as he forced her eyesight to his, his eyes looked so intense when he said Listen to me, Sophie. You are more than enough for me. I wonder every day what I did to deserve you. You deserve to have whatever you want in life and god help me, Sophie I’m going to give it to you. And when their lips met in soft kiss, as rain started to sprinkle around them, she started to believe it.

This got longgggg I’m so sorry! Don’t know what’s wrong with me today!

[tossawary]

How do you prepare for a writing session? I have a terrible time focusing on anything and would love some pointers

My focus has been all over the place lately, but, ahhh, here are a bunch of things that help me personally focus on getting that WIP done: 

- Deadlines. Deadlines make me focus like nothing else. If I allowed myself to officially say that my update day needed to be Thursday this week instead of Wednesday, the chapter would come late on Thursday. Having an official update day of the week helps me pace myself. 

(Having that day of the week not be a weekend day lets me actually relax and enjoy my weekend, which helps me recharge.) 

- Outlines. Having an outline to follow makes it easier to write a lot all at once or to pick up where I left off if I’m writing in bursts. My outlines are a mess of point-form notes with all the plot and character moments I think I need to hit. Sometimes they’re snippets of nice-sounding dialogue and sometimes they’re things like, “Shang Qinghua says something here that reminds the audience of the existence of X plot detail coming up shortly.” 

Or: “- Shang Qinghua does Y action. - Mobei-Jun is amused.” 

I can dig up one of my outlines for a PINTWILF chapter. I have nearly all of them still, I think. Some of them have very detailed outlines and then some of them were super vague, like, “I HAVE A VISION, LET’S GO BEFORE I LOSE IT.” 

I have a notes document with the outlines and a document that I’m actually writing in. Sometimes, I’ll have the side by side on my screen, with the notes document on my left, so I can glance between the two as I write. 

(When I do this, I keep a third window hidden, which contains my music tabs and my thesaurus tabs and my distraction tabs. If I can’t see it, it helps.) 

Sometimes, if I want one big window, I’ll copy-paste the outline into my writing document, underneath the in-progress writing, separated by a “CONTINUE HERE”. The point-form notes come up one by one, and I delete the point-form notes as I hit them until the copy-pasted outline is gone. 

- If your eyes are slipping over the words, change the font and the font size. A large, dyslexic-friendly font like Comic Sans is usually good. Switching fonts is also good for spell-checking. 

Shorter paragraphs can also make things seem snappier and catch my eyes better. They can also reveal the beats (plot, character, tension, etc.) of a scene. Once your bones are made clear, you can always go back in and rejoin paragraphs, or elaborate on the beats that need it. 

- Honestly, just having massive chunks of free time (yay, being confined to my house) is what has allowed me to write this much. When I have errands or chores or tasks, I try to get them over with before I start writing, because constantly thinking “I need to remember to pay that bill after this” is a focus-breaker. It’s easier to just do it now so I don’t forget later. 

Work is left at work! So fun writing time can be fun writing time only! 

If I’m hungry or thirsty or need to use the bathroom, I just get up and go do that. Being hungry or thirsty makes my brain uncooperative. It needs energy to do its thing! Get up, solve the body’s problem, take the opportunity to stretch, and then my focus isn’t constantly divided by thinking, “I’m hungry.” Meals and other needs shouldn’t be withheld as rewards! They’re needed for writing! 

If my feet are cold, I go get socks. One more distraction eliminated! 

On a similar note, sometimes I can’t focus because I feel like I haven’t “accomplished enough” of other things and it feels like I have other things I should be doing. Taking a walk, cooking a meal (or a treat!), or getting a task or chore out of the way can help with that. I have Accomplished Something and now I can write freely! 

- Give myself permission to just GET IT DONE and then go back and improve upon it later is a huge help. My writing doesn’t have to be pretty. I don’t have to get it right on the first try. I can go back and make it nice later. 

If it’s feeling a little flat, I can come back later and tone it up. 

If it’s feeling a little too much, I can come back later and tone it down. 

I also don’t have to go back and make it nice later. Projects can be imperfect. 

Likewise, it’s good to give myself permission to be direct when I’m writing. “Oh, damn, I need Shang Qinghua to cross the room here,” I’ll say, and it feels like I’ve hit a dead end. How do I write that transition? I write: “Shang Qinghua crossed the room.” Done! Stage directions don’t have to be fancy! 

Maybe I’ll add an adverb later on the second pass, but dialogue can convey that he crossed the room carefully (“Are you... okay?”) or angrily (“What is wrong with you?!”) well enough. 

I’m also allowed to just use “said”. Sometimes less is more! 

- I’m only “allowed” to post one WIP to AO3 at a time. That also helps. 

If you have other WIPs that feel like they’re dragged you down, you can just mark them as “incomplete” or “on hiatus”. Feeling accountable to others helps me write, but it also helps to remind myself I don’t “owe” my time or effort to any project if I’m not feeling it right now. People might be disappointed that I’m not writing what they want or that I even have to backtrack on a promise, but their disappointment isn’t really my problem. I’m allowed to change my mind. 

Sometimes ideas have limits. Some ideas can become feature-length films and some ideas can become 6-hour mini-series and some ideas are only really worth about a short film (unless you bring in more characters and themes and sub-plots, etc). Sometimes, you have to get the writing version of a seam-ripper, figure out what you’re not vibing with, and come back with more characters and themes and sub-plots to make an idea vibe with you again. 

And sometimes it’s good to follow Marie Kondo’s example and go, “You know what? This unfinished fic taught me that I do not enjoy writing fics like this.” Or: “This unfinished fic taught me that I do not vibe with this idea.” 

- Sometimes, music is more distracting than anything else, especially when I’m writing dialogue. I’ll turn music off when I need to “hear” the dialogue better. Listening to ambience mix style stuff that goes on for hours can help set the mood and also means I’m not distracted by constantly picking new music. 

- Sometimes I wear specific outfits or change into a different outfit when I want to be in a better mood for writing. Usually into a more comfortable outfit. (But sometimes there’s a scene that calls to be written by an author wearing a fancy dress! However, I find very fancy outfits are for very rare occasions.) 

Brushing my hair or brushing my teeth before a writing sessions can help me feel refreshed. Sometimes I shower before my writing sessions. I find it relaxing to feel clean. Changing bedsheets or rearranging the couch to my liking can help too. Sometimes, I channel the energy of a bird picking at my nest and fluffing my feathers, for the Best Environment and Best Look! These cleaning behaviors are important for attracting mates and all the jazz, but they’re also good for attracting personal happiness and good writing vibes. 

- Rereading comments before a writing session can help me feel pumped. 

I answer comments or asks in bunches because most often I prefer to direct my energy towards my writing sessions. I love the comments and the asks! So much that sometimes I want to hoard them forever! But sometimes I need to set them aside so that I can keep making the writing I enjoy. 

Sometimes it can be distracting, though. 

- Okay! I think that’s everything off the top of my head! Key points for me: 

Time! 

Preparation! 

Comfort! 

Environment! 

Different techniques will work differently for different people, of course. Sometimes, these techniques work very well for me and sometimes I just get more distracted. Oh, last thing is something I’m bad at, but: if it feels like I really need to sleep, I probably really need to sleep. Naps are my friend. 

So are break weeks. Recharging is good. 

[boatemhole]

crossfire | a hermitcraft x dreamsmp crossover

ohhh boy oh boy. remember that hc x dsmp crossover i was talking about a while back? the one with ranboo and zed? well, i finally finished writing it! i can be found here on wattpad, or if you don’t have it you can read it under the cut :D

this is actually more hermitcraft-centered than dsmp, so heads-up for that. i don’t watch too much dsmp so i tried to keep it as vague as possible for ranboo’s parts. i had a lot of help from my friends on that bit

word count: 2115 tws: swearing, mentions of wars

Ranboo wasn't sure where he was, but it definitely wasn't the Dream SMP.

The place he found himself in had buildings that seemed to stretch upwards forever. There was no consistency in the block palettes; each build had its own distinct style. Some were larger than the others--one build that looked like a town hall seemed to overlook the rest of the builds. Ranboo could even see more buildings that were in the background and seemed to have their own islands.

What was this place? Was this someone's base? It was huge. It seemed to go on forever.

For some reason, the grass hadn't spread around the island completely yet. He noticed some large patches of dirt that looked freshly dugout. Little sprouts of grass had started to grow, but it hadn't completely covered the dirt yet.

As Ranboo wandered the area, he heard a small moo. Turning around, he saw a lone mooshroom, its red and white hide looking out of place among the green grass. He vaguely remembered that mooshrooms are supposed to be in mycelium islands, not regular ones like this.

How did this one get here, then? Poor thing.

Had this place been a mushroom island before? It would explain the still-spreading grass. Whoever owned this place must have put in so much time and effort here between the builds and the replaced mycelium. It was incredible. The look of this place was chaotic--so many different styles crammed together--but, at the same time, there was a certain harmony it had.

Ranboo slowly walked up to the mooshroom as to not scare it. When the cow approached him, he held out a hand and petted it a bit, feeling surprising sympathy for the animal. It was taken out of its natural habit and was alone now.

Kind of how he had found himself here, in this place he had no idea how to navigate.

As he petted the mooshroom, he thought he heard a firework sound off in the background. When he looked around, though, there was nothing.

Oh, yeah. Where were all the people? Where was the person that built this place?

Then, he looked up and saw someone flying above him.

Flying...?

Ranboo didn't recognize the grayish-purple wings strapped onto the man's back. They looked light, but they managed to catch the wind so the person who had the wings strapped to them glided around easily. Instead of feathers, these wings had a more silky, transparent look to them. There were only two main parts of the set, and they functioned pretty simply. The two parts just expanded whenever the person was in flight.

The person noticed Ranboo, too, and he landed on the ground. It wasn't anyone Ranboo recognized. They had light blonde hair, violet eyes, and a brown tunic. He was wearing diamond armor--no netherite. And instead of a chestplate, he was wearing those wings.

From the look on his face, he didn't recognize Ranboo, either.

The guy gave Ranboo that confused once-over, like he wasn't sure who--or what--he was looking at. He must have looked very odd compared to the other person's attire.

"Um...how did you get here?" he said after a moment. "I, uh, haven't seen you around before."

Ranboo sighed inwardly. "Honestly, I don't even know myself."

He reached into his inventory for his memory book, but after a few moments of digging around for it...he didn't find it. He opened his backpack all the way to look for it, but it wasn't there.

He started to panic a bit. He didn't like going anywhere without his memory book--he tended to forget things a lot, and he wrote them down in his book so he didn't forget. Without it, he constantly forgot important things...like how he'd gotten here.

...Shit.

The other person noticed his panic and hurriedly gave him a "calm-down" gesture. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said quickly. "I'm sure there's a reason why you're here."

"I'm Zedaph, by the way," he added as an afterthought. "You can call me Zed. For now, why don't I take you to Xisuma? He might know something about all this."

Zedaph? Xisuma? Who the hell were these people?

"Listen, I don't think I'm supposed to be here--" Ranboo said, looking around as if he could somehow find an exit out of this place. "I'm part of a different SMP, not...whatever this one is. I don't even know what this place is--I belong to the Dream SMP."

Zed paused as something occurred to him. "Wait--hold on, you're a part of the Dream SMP?"

Ranboo was a bit confused at Zed's sudden curiosity. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

Zed leaned against a shop's storefront, petting the mooshroom Ranboo found earlier idly. "What is it like?"

Ranboo was really confused now. Zed had changed topics at the speed of light. "Uh, what is what like?"

"The Dream SMP."

When Ranboo raised an eyebrow, Zed continued.

"Well, we've heard some things about that SMP. It's kind of infamous. Big reputation. I don't really know how to explain this, but uh...we've heard that conflicts on that server are more...major?" His voice went up an octave. "More serious? Than other SMPs, at least."

"Oh, um. Yeah." Ranboo was careful choosing his words, knowing he was treading on a ground littered with landmines. "What about it?"

"Well, compared to a place like here--Hermitcraft--we have more, uh, lighthearted conflicts. Not entirely serious, you know?" Zed cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced to the side.

So this was Hermitcraft. Just like how Zed said the DSMP was well-known, people knew the Hermitcraft server well, too. Specifically their big, grindy builds. Ranboo should have known that's where he was. This place definitely did Hermitcraft justice.

Zed was still looking at him curiously. Ranboo knew he wasn't going to let this go until he said something about it--he seemed like that kind of person.

"Well, I'm probably not the best person to turn to for this kind of stuff," Ranboo started.

"Hey, you're the only DSMP member who's appeared in our server randomly," Zed joked with a little laugh. "You're my only source. You can probably say something ridiculous that would never happen here and I'd have to believe you."

"Okay. A place called L'Manburg was blown up three times by three different people at three different times." Ranboo put on his best deadpan face, though Zed probably couldn't see it behind his mask and sunglasses.

Zed stared at him for a count of five. "...You're not joking, are you?"

"Nope. Actually happened."

"Um...wow. Okay." Zed didn't seem to know what to do with that info. That kind of stuff was probably unheard of in a place like this. "H-how did that happen anyway? What prompts someone to blow up this place thrice? What did it do to deserve that?"

Ranboo went stiff. Zed had hit a sensitive spot. "Wars. Conflict in the server. So many sides taken, the SMP is split in half."

"And...what side are you on?" Zed asked softly.

"...None."

Zed leaned back, surprised by the answer. "Oh, um...can I ask why? If you're comfy saying it, of course."

"No, it's okay." Ranboo took a deep breath before continuing.

"I have this policy. 'Choose people, not sides.' Every conflict on this server has started out because of two conflicting beliefs. Then, people start taking the side of one belief. Then, it just...escalates from there. I don't choose a side because that's going to solve nothing. Instead, I choose people. Of course, I want all this conflict to be over.

"But it never stops."

He trailed off as he realized he'd started rambling. "Uh, crap, you probably didn't want to hear all that, though--I'm sorry--"

"No, no, it's okay," Zed said quickly. "It's just...y'see, on Hermitcraft, our wars are more...lighthearted. Not as serious. I've said this before. There's no real conflict, just servermates messing around with each other."

"I wish I could experience that kind of thing," Ranboo muttered. It made sense that a place like this didn't have a lot of real conflict. It was like a haven of some sort to Ranboo. A special place that was unachievable in his own server.

"...I can't imagine going to actual war when it's my friends who are on the opposing side," Zed continued. "I mean, sure, we've had wars before, but it's always lighthearted roleplay. We're not actually mad at each other, y'know?"

He was silent for a moment before adding on one last bit. "Though some...recent wars...have gotten a bit more out of hand."

"How about you?" Ranboo asked. "What side are you on for these wars?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'none', too?" Zed said with a smile.

"Wait...really?"

"Not for the reasons you are. It's just...not my thing. I don't usually get involved in big server events. I have my own projects I want to work on. Though I have these two friends—Tango and Impulse—who always get involved. And they always end up on opposite teams."

"What's that like after the war is over?"

"Weird. It didn't use to be like this, but there's this...lingering tension now. Like I said earlier, the wars are getting a bit more serious, and it takes me a while longer to break the ice again between 'em. It's not like immediately after the war things go back to normal. Not anymore."

Ranboo let out a small puff of laughter. "Seems like we each have our own problems, huh?"

"...Yeah. Seems like it."

Ranboo's smile faded, and he sighed. "I wish I could be a part of a really close server like this. It seems fun."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...let's just say I don't really have any close friends on the DSMP."

"...You don't?"

Ranboo instantly regretted oversharing with Zed. The reason why he never told people about this is that they tended to go "Oh, poor you"! and baby you afterward.

Why did he share this with Zed, anyway? Out of all the people he could have confessed to...why a Hermit? They had it easy over here. How could he understand? Why not talk to someone on the DSMP who could?

But...Zed continued to surprise him with what he said.

"If you want...I can be your first real friend."

Ranboo did a double-take. Out of all the things Zed had said—and some of them had seemed downright foreign to him—this is what surprised him the most. He didn't go "Poor thing! Do you want a hug?" or awkwardly change the subject...he listened. More importantly, he understood.

And that was something Ranboo wasn't used to.

He realized Zed was waiting for an answer, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. He couldn't say anything that could properly convey the...happiness he felt when Zed offered to be his friend. Yes, that was it. He didn't realize how lonely he'd felt before.

Even if he did have people he hung out with more on the DSMP, he never felt close to them. That wasn't something he felt with Zed. For whatever reason, in the short time he'd talked to him, Ranboo felt like he could relate to him. A lot. They had to deal with the same kind of problem, even if their conflicts were on opposite ends. They were two sides of the same coin.

"...Yeah," he said after a moment longer. "I'd like that."

Zed smiled a bit, and Ranboo did have to read too deep into it to know that he was thinking along the same lines as he was right now. He was that kind of person.

After a moment of silence, Zed cleared his throat. "Um. Though...you know you can't stay here forever. You have your own server, and the whitelist will kick you out sooner or later. You belong in the Dream SMP. Not here. As much as I'd like you to stay."

Ranboo laughed as a thought occurred to him. "It was never meant to be, huh?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"But--before the whitelist kicks you out, we should make the most of the time left. I don't know if I'll see you again, y'know? And I want to hear about everything in the DSMP."

Ranboo felt a smile grow on his face. Zed delivering bad news, then immediately following with a hopeful smile afterward was something he'd do. He was glad he met Zed today...even if it was under the weirdest circumstances he'd ever encountered. And he'd seen some pretty odd things.

"Yeah. C'mon, let's go find somewhere to sit." Zed got up from his sitting spot, brushed off the dirt, and gestured for Ranboo to follow him. "I'll tell you what's happening in my server, and you can tell me about yours!"

[destiny-smasher]

Life is Strange: True Colors

Leading up to the release of Episode 1 of TellTale's The Walking Dead game, I was working freelance for GameRevolution at the time, lived in the area, and had the chance to play a build of the game to write a preview on it. I remember comparing it to Mass Effect because, at the time, there just...weren't games of that subgenre. Of course, by now we've seen an explosion of this type of game - the 'narrative/choice-driven game,' spearheaded and even oversaturated by Telltale to their own demise.

Out of all of the games that have come from that initial boom, Life is Strange by DontNod was and still is the most influential on my life, but I also have always harbored really conflicted feelings about it - especially with how it resolved its narrative. Hell, if you're reading this, you're probably aware that I spent a few years of my life creating a sequel fanstory which I even adapted a chunk of into visual novel format. Hundreds of thousands of words, days and days of life spent essentially trying to process and reconcile my conflicted feelings about this game's conclusion(s). Since then, I've been experimenting with interactive fiction and am currently developing my own original visual novel using everything I've learned from both creating and playing games in this genre. It's a subgenre of game I have a lot of interest and passion for because, when handled well, it can allow a player to sort of co-direct a guided narrative experience in a way that's unique compared to strictly linear cinematic experiences but still have a curated, focused sense of story.

Up until this point, I've regarded Night in the Woods as probably the singular best game of this style, with others like Oxenfree and The Wolf Among Us as other high marks. I've never actually put any Life is Strange game quite up there - none of them have reached that benchmark for me, personally. Until now, anyway.

But now, I can finally add a new game to that top tier, cream of the crop list. Life is Strange: True Colors is just damn good. I'm an incredibly critical person as it is - and that critique usually comes from a place of love - so you can imagine this series has been really hard to for me given that I love it, and yet have never truly loved any actual full entry in it. I have so many personal issues, quibbles, qualms, and frustration with Life is Strange: with every individual game, with how it has been handled by its publisher (my biggest issue at this point, actually), with how it has seemingly been taken away from its original development studio, with how it chooses to resolve its narratives...

But with True Colors, all of those issues get brushed aside long enough for me to appreciate just how fucking well designed it is for this style of game. I can appreciate how the development team, while still clearly being 'indie' compared to other dev teams working under Square-Enix, were able to make such smart decisions in how to design and execute this game. Taken on its own merits, apart from its branding, True Colors is absolutely worth playing if you enjoy these 'telltale' style games. Compared to the rest of the series, I would argue it's the best one so far, easily. I had a lot of misgivings and doubts going in, and in retrospect, those are mostly Square-Enix's fault. Deck Nine, when given the freedom to make their own original game in the same vein as the previous three, fucking nailed it as much as I feel like they could, given the kinds of limitations I presume they were working within.

I'm someone who agonizes every single time there is news for Life is Strange as a series - someone who essentially had to drop out of the fandom over infighting, then dropped out of even being exposed to the official social media channels for it later on (I specifically have the Square-Enix controlled channels muted). I adore Max and Chloe, and as a duo, as a couple, they are one of my top favorites not just in gaming, but in general. They elevated the original game to be something more than the sum of its parts for me. And while I have enjoyed seeing what DontNod has made since, it's always been their attention to detail in environmental craftsmanship, in tone and atmosphere, which has caught my interest. They're good at creating characters with layers, but imo they've never nailed a narrative arc. They've never really hit that sweet spot that makes a story truly resonate with me. Deck Nine's previous outing, Before the Storm, was all over the place, trying to mimic DontNod while trying to do its own things - trying to dig deeper into concepts DontNod deliberately left open for interpretation while also being limited in what it could do as a prequel.

But with True Colors, those awkward shackles are (mostly) off. They have told their own original story, keeping in tone and concept with previous Life is Strange games, and yet this also feels distinctly different in other ways.

Yes, protagonist Alex Chen is older than previous characters, and most of the characters in True Colors are young adults, as opposed to teenagers. Yes, she has a supernatural ability. And yes, the game is essentially a linear story with some freedom in how much to poke around at the environment and interact with objects/characters, with the primary mechanic being making choices which influence elements of how the story plays out. None of this is new to the genre, or even Life is Strange. But the execution was clearly planned out, focused, and designed with more caution and care than games like this typically get.

A smaller dev team working with a budget has to make calls on how to allocate that budget. With True Colors, you will experience much fewer locales and environments than you will in Life is Strange 2. Fewer locations than even Life is Strange 1, by my count. But this reinforces the game's theming. I suspect the biggest hit to the game's budget was investing in its voice acting (nothing new for this series) but specifically in the motion capture and facial animation.

You have a game about a protagonist trying to fit in to a small, tightly knit community. She can read the aura of people's emotions and even read their minds a little. And the game's budget and design take full advantage of this. You spend your time in a small main street/park area, a handful of indoor shops, your single room apartment. It fits within a tighter budget, but it reinforces the themes the game is going for. Your interactions with characters are heightened with subtle facial cues and microexpressions, which also reinforces the mechanic and theming regarding reading, accepting, and processing emotions. And you get to make some choices that influence elements of this - influenced by the town, influenced by the emotions of those around you, which reinforce the main plot of trying to navigate a new life in a small town community.

When I think about these types of games, the conclusion is always a big deal. In a way, it shouldn't be, because I usually feel it's about the journey, not the destination. And as an example, I actually really dislike the ending of the original Life is Strange. I think it's a lot of bullshit in many ways. The setpiece is amazing and epic, sure, but the actual storytelling going on is...really hollow for me. Yes, the game does subtly foreshadow in a number of ways that this is the big choice it's leading up to, but the game never actually makes sense of it. And the problem is, if your experience is going to end on a big ol' THIS or THAT kind of moment, it needs to make sense or the whole thing will fall apart as soon as the credits are rolling and the audience spends a moment to think about what just happened. When you look at the end of Season 1 of Telltale's The Walking Dead, it's not powerful just because of what choice you're given, but because through the entire final episode, we know the stakes - we know what is going to ultimately happen, and we know the end of the story is fast approaching. All of the cards are on the table by the time we get to that final scene, and it works so well because we know why it's happening, and it is an appropriate thematic climax that embodies the theming of the entire season. It works mechanically, narratively, and thematically, and 'just makes sense.'

The ending of Life is Strange 1 doesn't do that, if you ask me. The ending of most games in this genre don't really hit that mark. When I get to the end of most game 'seasons' like this, even ones I enjoy, I'm typically left frustrated, confused, and empty in a way.

The ending of True Colors, on the other hand, nails everything it needs to. Handily, when compared to its peers.

If you're somehow reading this and have not played this game but intend to, now is probably where you should duck out, as I will be

discussing SPOILERS from the entire game, specifically the finale.

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Firstly, since I don't know where else to put this, some criticisms I found with the game. And honestly, they're all pretty damn minor compared to most games of this type.

Mainly, I just wish the whole Typhon thing was handled a bit more deliberately. It's a bit weird to do the 'big evil corporation' thing (especially when a big corporation like Square Enix occupies as much as or even more of the credits to this game than the people who actually MADE it?) without offering more explanation and subtlety. The game certainly makes some efforts but they're mostly small and mostly optional, like background chatter or a handful of one-off bits of documentation/etc. you can find in the environment. I feel like Diane in particular needed to be fleshed out just a little bit more to really sell us on how and why things like this happen, why corporations make decisions that cost people their happiness, security, and lives and they just get to keep on doing it. I think just a little bit that is unavoidable to the player that puts emphasis on maybe how much the town relies on the money/resources Typhon provides would've helped. Again, this is minor, but it stands out when I have so little else to critique.

I would've liked to get more insight on why Jed is the way he is. No, I don't think we really needed to learn more about his backstory, or even really his motivations. I think we get enough of that. I just think it would've been great to somehow highlight more deliberately how/why he's built up this identity overtop of what he's trying to suppress. Maybe even just having Alex internally realize, "Wait, what the hell, Jed has been hiding these emotions and my powers haven't picked up on it?" or something to that effect could have added an extra oomph to highlight how Jed seems to be coping with his emotions by masking/suppressing them. Also really minor complaint, but again...there's not much else here I can think to really improve on within the confines of what's in the game.

The game doesn't really call Alex's power into question morally. Like. Max has an entire meltdown by the end of her story, second-guessing if she's even helped anyone at all, if she has 'the right' to do so, how her powers might be affecting or expressing her own humanity and flaws...this story doesn't really get into that despite a very similar concept of manipulating others. There's like one bit in a document you can choose to read in Alex's 'nightmare' scene, but that's really it. I feel like this sentiment and how it's executed could have easily been expanded upon in just this one scene to capture what made that Max/Other Max scene do what it did in a way that would address the moral grayness of Alex's powers and how she uses them, and give players a way to express their interpretation of that. Also, very small deal, just another tidbit I would've liked to see.

When I first watched my wife play through Episode 5 (I watched her play through the game first, then I played it myself), I wasn't really feeling the surreal dreamscape stuff of Alex's flashbacks - which is weird, because if you're read my work from the past few years, you'll know I usually love that sort of shit. I think what was throwing me off was that it didn't really feel like it was tying together what the game was about up until that point, and felt almost like it was just copying what Life is Strange did with Max's nightmare sequence (minus the best part of that sequence, imo, where Max literally talks to herself).

But by the time I had seen the rest of the story, and re-experienced it myself, I think it clicked better. This is primarily a story about Alex Chen trying to build a new life for herself in a new community - a small town, a tightly knit place. Those flashbacks are specifically about Alex's past, something we only get teeny tiny tidbits of, and only really if we go looking for them. I realized after I gave myself a few days to process and play through the game myself that this was still a fantastic choice because it reinforces the plot reasons why Alex is even in the town she's in (because her father went there, and her brother in turn went there looking for him), and it reinforces the theme of Alex coming to accept her own emotions and confront them (as expressed through how the flashbacks are played out and the discussions she has with the image of Gabe in her mind, which is really just...another part of herself trying to get her to process things).

By the time Alex escapes the mines and returns to the Black Lantern, all of the cards are on the table. By that point, we as the audience know everything we need to. Everything makes sense - aside from arguably why Jed has done what he has done, but put a pin in that for a sec. We may not know why Alex has the powers she does, but we have at least been given context for how they manifested - as a coping mechanism of living a life inbetween the cracks of society, an unstable youth after her family fell apart around her (and oof, trust me, I can relate with this in some degree, though not in exactly the same ways). And unlike Max's Rewind power, the story and plot doesn't put this to Alex's throat, like it's all on her to make some big choice because she is the way she is, or like she's done something wrong by pursuing what she cares about (in this case, the truth, closure, and understanding).

When Alex confronts Jed in front of all of the primary supporting characters, it does everything it needs to.

Mechanically: it gives players choices for how to express their interpretation of events, and how Alex is processing them; it also, even more importantly, uses the 'council' as a way of expressing how the other characters have reacted to the choices the player has made throughout the game, and contributes to how this climax feels. We're given a 'big choice' at the end of the interaction that doesn't actually change the plot, or even the scene, really (it just affects like one line of dialogue Alex says right then) and yet BOTH choices work so well as a conclusion, it's literally up to your interpretation and it gives you an in-game way to express that.

Thematically: the use of the council reinforces the game's focus on community; and the way the presentation of the scene stays locked in on Alex and Jed's expressions reinforces its focus on emotion - not to mention that the entire scene also acts as a way to showcase how Alex has come to accept, understand, and process her own emotions while Jed, even THEN, right fucking at the moment of his demise, is trying to mask his emotions, to hide them and suppress them and forget them (something the game has already expressed subtly by way of his negative emotions which would give him away NOT being visible to Alex even despite her power).

Narratively: we are given a confrontation that makes sense and feels edifying to see play out after everything we've experienced and learned. We see Alex use her powers in a new and exciting way that further builds the empowering mood the climax is going for and adds a cinematic drama to it. No matter what decisions the player makes, Alex has agency in her own climax, we experience her making a decision, using her power, asserting herself now that she has gone through the growth this narrative has put her through. Alex gets to resolve her shit, gets to have her moment to really shine and experience the end of a character arc in this narrative.

Without taking extra time to design the game around these pillars, the finale wouldn't be so strong. If they didn't give us enough opportunities to interact with the townspeople, their presence in the end wouldn't matter, but everyone who has a say in the council is someone we get an entire scene (at least one) dedicated to interacting with them and their emotions. If they didn't implement choices in the scene itself, it would still be powerful but we wouldn't feel as involved, it'd be more passive. If they didn't showcase Alex's power, we might be left underwhelmed, but they do so in a way that actually works in the context through how they have chosen to present it, while also just tonally heightening the climax by having this drastic lighting going on. If they didn't have the council involved, we'd lose the theming of community. If they didn't have the foil of Alex/Jed and how they have each processed their emotions, we'd miss that key component. And if we didn't have such detailed facial animations, the presentation just wouldn't be as effective.

Ryan/Steph are a little bit like, in this awkward sideline spot during the climax? Steph always supports you, and Ryan supports you or doubts you conditionally, which is unsurprising but also ties into the themes of Ryan having grown up woven into this community, and Steph being once an outsider who has found a place within it. They're still there, either way, which is important. The only relevant characters who aren't present are more supporting characters like Riley, Ethan, and Mac. Ethan being the only one of those who gets an entire 'super emotions' scene, but that also marks the end of his arc and role in the story, so...it's fine. Mac and Riley are less important and younger, as well, and have their own side story stuff you have more direct influence on, too.

But damn, ya'll, this climax just works so well. It especially stands out to me given just how rarely I experience a conclusion/climax that feels this rewarding.

And then after that we get a wonderful montage of a theoretical life Alex might live on to experience. Her actions don't overthrow a conglomerate billionaire company. She doesn't even save a town, really. If the entire council thinks you're full of shit, Jed still confesses either way - because it's not up to the council whether he does this, it's because of Alex, regardless of player choice. Honestly, even after a playthrough where I made most choices differently from my wife, there weren't really many changes to that montage at the end. It'd have been great if it felt more meaningfully different, but maybe it can be. Even if not, the design intent is there and the execution still works. It's a really nice way to end the story, especially since it's not even a literal montage but one Alex imagines - again, her processing what she's gone through, what she desires, expressed externally for us to see it. And for once, the actual final 'big decision' in a game of this type manages to be organic, make sense, and feel good and appropriate either way. You choose to either have Alex stay in Haven Springs and continue building her life there, or you can choose to have her leave and try to be an indie musician, with the events of the game being yet another chunk of her life to deal with and move on from (I haven't really touched on it, but music, especially as a way to express and process emotions, is a recurring thing, much like photography was in the original game, or Sean's illustrations in LiS2). For once, a climactic 'pick your ending' decision that doesn't feel shitty. It's pretty rare for this genre, honestly.

I could - and already have, and likely will - have so much more to say about this game and its details, but I really wanted to focus on touching upon a main element that has left me impressed: the way the entire game feels designed. It feels intentionally constructed but in a way that reinforces what it is trying to express as a story. It's not just trying to make people cry for the sake of 'emotions.' It is a game literally about emotions and it comes to a conclusion in a way that is clearly saying something positive and empowering about empathy and self-acceptance.

Storytelling is a craft, like any other, and it entails deliberate choices and decisions that can objectively contribute to how effective a story is for its intended audience.

A good story isn't something you find, after all.

It's something you build.

[onionsoop]

Regrets /// Oikawa x nb!reader

Summary: After the last day of school you go over to Oikawa's house and start to talk about all the things you regretted not doing in high school. During that time though you confess to him after he pesters you about who you were interested in.

Length: 2.1k

Tags: Fluff, Childhood Friends, Kissing

Author's Note: Heyo, this is just some silly Oikawa fluff I decided to write cause I wasn't really in the mood to write smut these past few weeks. I might add more parts to this, but for now I'm working on Part 2 to the Nanami fic. Anyways, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes and enjoy :)

The clink of ice in a glass sounded from the other room. You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes, letting the buzzing from the cicadas outside fill your mind. Warm sunlight beamed in from the sliding glass door, lighting up his bedroom and falling across your legs.

It was the last day of the school year. The last day of school before you headed off to college. It had been a long and twelve years, filled with some of the hardest work you had ever done, but now that it was over you felt was a slight sadness. Thinking about what you had ahead of you felt overwhelming and you just wanted to spend your time enjoying this last summer break to its fullest.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the kitchen made you open your eyes, turning your head to look at him as he entered the room. Casual as ever, Oikawa entered the room holding two full glasses of lemonade and smiling at you. Oikawa, your neighbor and childhood friend since you were seven-- looking at him now felt no different than it had when you first met. Despite the fact that he had grown twice as tall and now had his hair styled in those perfect waves the cocky look on his face had remained the same. You followed his movements with your eyes as he set one of the glasses down next to you on the floor before sitting down with a heavy sigh, admiring the way the muscles under his shirt moved.

“So, how long until you leave?” he asked, staring out the window into the garden in front of you.

“Two months. I’m leaving for Tokyo a month early to get set up,” you said dismally. Thinking about how little time you had left made a shiver run up your spine. It felt like there was a foot on your back pushing you to move on while you still held on to the last scraps of your childhood.

“Any closer to deciding on what you’re going to do?” you asked, shifting your eyes over to look at him. He was sprawled out on the floor, back resting against the side of the bed and lemonade glass in hand, slowly swirling the liquid inside. He shook his head, a slight, sad smile forming on his lips in response. Both of you felt the same way about high school ending-- you knew it was unavoidable but neither one of you liked the implications it held and the future it brought.

“Did you make sure to pick up all your equipment? You know Matsukawa was annoyed last year when you forgot your uniform,” you said, nudging his shoulder, trying to liven up the conversation. His eyes flicked over to you, giving you a fake exasperated look that contrasted the smile on his face.

“Of course, of course, Iwaizumi pestered me about it endlessly, there was no way I could forget,” he said, nudging you back a little harder.

“Say, why didn’t you ever join the team? You were always so invested in all of my games and practices.” You fixed your gaze back on the garden in front of you, feeling the jovial mood in the conversation seep out of the atmosphere as memories of things you missed out on flooded into your mind.

“I’m not sure,” you said truthfully, “I guess I was just too busy. I wish I had.” Oikawa nodded, letting out an “mmm” in response.

“Well, it doesn’t matter too much, I’m sure you’ll have a chance in college,”

“Probably, doesn’t feel the same though. I know it stupid but it feels like high school is the time when you’re supposed to do things like that. Makes it seem like I missed a lot of opportunities,” you said quietly, sadness seeping into your tone.

“I doubt that, you were always a hardworking student so if anything you just prepared yourself more for the future. Things like clubs aren’t important,” Oikawa said, trying to lighten the mood. Even though he was usually able to distract you and cheer you up, you still felt the weight of your future still pressing on your emotions.

“I feel so left behind though, like I don’t have these core experiences that everyone else does,”

“I don’t think volleyball is that much of a core experience-”

“It’s not just that, there’s lots of stuff-- I was never in any clubs, I never made that cliche friend group you’re supposed to have, I’ve never even had a first kiss! Do you know how embarrassing that’ll be for me to go into college without even a first kiss?” you exclaimed a little louder than you wanted to. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes but you quickly forced them away, returning to your depressed composure. There was no reason to get so emotional. You glanced over at Oikawa who had a surprised but concerned look on his face.

“I… I don’t know, I think this is all just weighing on me cause school just ended. I guess I don’t feel prepared,”

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sure everything will get better in the next few months though.”

“Yeah, probably... I just wish I could go back and redo things, I feel so much regret…” you said, staring down at your drink, watching the condensation drip down the sides. You felt a little guilty putting this all on Oikawa, but you couldn’t quite shove away the depressing feeling that clung to you. There was an awkward pause and you felt Oikawa shift beside you.

“What would you go back and change?” he asked tentatively, meeting your eyes. You opened your mouth to answer but stopped when you realized you weren’t quite sure. You had never really thought about what exactly you would go and change, it felt like there was never really any point.

“I’m not exactly sure. I guess for starters I would go and join the volleyball team, then maybe try and connect with people more often. I was pretty standoff-ish most of the time wasn’t I,” you said, earning a chuckle from Oikawa.

“Makes sense, what would you do about that first kiss situation though? You seemed pretty distressed about that,” he said, a slight smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. You let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes and feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Out of all the things you felt you missed out on, that was the one you had actually given some thought to.

Over the four years you were in high school, you had multiple crushes on different people, but had never really been able to connect with them. At the current moment though the only one you remembered was the way you had liked Oikawa ever since elementary school. You had tried to build up the courage to confess to him back then, but once middle school hit and he got a girlfriend you buried your feelings as much as possible.

“I-I’m honestly not sure. There were a couple people I was interested in but I’m not sure anything would have ever really worked out with them.” You averted your gaze from him, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks, making you miss the intensity in his eyes as he asked you the next question.

‘Oh? Like who? Anyone I know?” he said, leaning forwards with a teasing grin on his face.

“I- I don’t think so, it wasn’t really anyone ever well known,” you said a bit too quickly, trying to blow it off with a slight laugh. You thought about all the times you had wanted to tell him about how you felt. You knew you had wanted to for so long, but was it even a good idea?

“Aw c’mon, can I at least get some names? You shouldn’t hold back information like this from your best friend Y/N,”

“I-... um-...” You couldn’t think of anything to say. The name of every guy you had ever known vanished from your head and the only one left was Oikawa’s. Your mind raced to try and think of something to say but nothing came to you. The room suddenly felt too hot and the noise from outside buzzed in your ears, distracting you from thinking properly.

“I-It’s a secret,” you said, regretting the excuse as soon as it came out of your mouth. Oikawa’s smile quickly dropped to be replaced with an expression that said “seriously?”

“We’re not even in school anymore, how can it be a secret?”

“It- It just is. I don’t want you to know, it’s embarrassing,” you said, becoming more aware of the hole you were digging yourself. There was no way you’d be able to lie your way out of this. The blush on your cheeks had transformed into a crimson shade that ran all the way up to your ears, showing that the words you said were lame excuses if it wasn’t already apparent.

“Come onnnn, it can’t be that bad, just tell me,” he said, poking you in the arm. Oikawa’s prying was becoming harder and harder to manage as you scrambled to find a way out of it. Your mind was barely working and had formed into a mess of pure panic. You wanted to give up and just tell him, but your mind was jumping from pros and cons too quickly for you to choose. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you tried to answer.

“W-Well… it’s you.”

It felt like everything in the room stilled as soon as you spoke. The panic you felt before almost seemed to enhance and you felt a feeling of regret slam into you. What were you thinking? Your eyes flicked to Oikawa who was staring at you wide-eyed with his lips slightly parted in shock. Your lower lip began to tremble and your palms felt too sweaty where they were in your lap. Every atom in you felt the urge to run, but you were frozen in place. Fuck.

“W-What?” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“I-I’m sorry, pretend I didn’t say anything,” you blurted out, whipping your head back to face the garden. You started staring intently at a bush outside to try and concentrate on anything but the rising fear in your throat.

“You like me?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I-I don’t know, I didn’t think you would reciprocate. W-Which it’s okay if you don’t...” you said, slowly shifting your gaze back to him, searching for any emotion on his face besides the intense stare he was giving you. You felt like your heart was about to pound out of your chest. Finally telling all of him this wasn’t as relieving as you thought it would be. Instead of feeling like a weight was lifted off your chest, being in this limbo had caused you to feel even more crushed by your decision. You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to calm down.

Faster than you could process, you felt his hand reach up to cup your cheek and his lips press up against yours. Your eyes shot open and you scrambled backwards, pulling away from the kiss.

“W-What are you doing?” you said, eyes wide and staring at Oikawa who was inches from your face.

“I-I’m sorry, I like you too, I thought it would be okay-” You didn’t let him finish his sentence as you slammed your lips back into his. Finally, you felt that wave of relief wash over you. Happiness swelled in your mind. You had to concentrate on keeping the corners of your lips from forcing your mouth into a smile. Your first kiss. Right then and there. It was all you could have ever hoped for and with the guy you had always dreamed it would be with.

You felt Oikawa’s arm move from its place on your cheek to reach around your back. He pulled you closer to him and you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his soft hair brush against your fingers. You melted into the kiss, savoring the warmth of his lips against yours.

He pulled back looking into your eyes as you let out an unsteady breath before smiling up at him. You could feel almost every part of you shaking from the adrenaline. You were lightheaded and found it hard to breathe, but you felt like you couldn’t be happier at that moment.

“So… would you like to be my significant other?” he asked, rubbing you back with his thumb.

“Yeah- yes please.” You beamed up at him, letting out a small laugh.

“You sure were surprised at that kiss, huh,” he said, a smirk coming across his features.

“Shut up!”

You gave him a slight push, both of you laughing as he held you in his arms, relishing the feeling of finally being with him.

[spockandawe]

I doubt this is something I’ll ever even try to write, because I rarely have the energy these days to devote my energy to a ‘lol but what if’ ship. But never say never, and I legit wrote the emilonni and tlj/sqq fics, after all, so I’m going to write this down and maybe, possibly, someday come back to it.

Now, hear me out

Wei Wuxian/Jin Zixun

Yes, yes, I know, but give me a second. It’s the sort of ship where I kind of want to do it just to see if it can be done, and where the idea of ‘textual support’ is kind of laughable, and it’s not like I’m smashing together two super-popular characters who just never happened to speak, and it’s the kind of ship where I think I could only shake one fic out of it before I was repeating myself, BUT.

First, a quote:

The person at the head of the group was Jin Zixun. He said, “Zixuan, is that Wei making trouble for you again?!”

Jin Zixuan said, “None of your business, don’t worry about it for now!” Seeing that Wei Wuxian grabbed Jiang Yanli and was about to take her away, he added, “Stop!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Oh, you want to fight? That’s fine with me!”

Jin Zixun said, “You Wei, just what do you mean by going against Zixuan so many times?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him. “Who are you?”

Jin Zixun paused in shock, and fumed, “You don’t know who I am?!”

“Why should I know who you are?”

When the Sunshot Campaign had first broken out, Jin Zixun had insisted on defending the back lines, due to an injury. He hadn’t had the chance to see what Wei Wuxian was like on the front lines, and most of his knowledge had come from rumors. He hadn’t care much for him, thinking that the rumors were simply exaggerations. However, a while ago, Wei Wuxian had summoned all of the dark creatures in the forest with a whistle, calling away the fierce corpses Jin Zixun’s group had been about to capture, causing their efforts to be wasted. He was already displeased.

Now, in front of his face, Wei Wuxian was asking who he was, stirring up a strange sense of indignation within him— He knew Wei Wuxian, yet Wei Wuxian didn’t know him, and even dared ask who he was in front of everyone. It was as if this had caused him to lose too much face. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.

Now, there’s a thoughtful meta I hopefully reblogged to my sideblog, which I would have to dig up or recreate on my own, about the most sympathetic possible reading of Jin Zixun. If memory serves, it has a lot to do about the precarious nature of his social position, where he’s part of the Jin clan, and kind of the closest thing Jin Zixuan has to a brother, but also, everyone knows that Jin Zixuan has half-siblings coming out of the woodwork, and many of them would be stoked to get Jin Guangshan to accept them into the family. At this stage in the story, Jin Guangyao is already a major player and a hero of the war and part of the venerated triad, where Jin Zixun spent a lot of time... not in the thick of things, like most other peers of his generation.

Is he an asshole? Yes! Is... Wei Wuxian an asshole? Also yes! One of them may be a more likeable asshole than the other, but that’s part of the excitement of a story like this, trying to coax people into holding a fannish position that they’d never considered before, and aren’t particularly eager to be convinced of. I don’t think I’m bad at that uphill climb, it just takes a lot of energy that I don’t often have to begin that journey in the first place. Also, one of these assholes is a certified grade-A torturer, and it’s probably not the one you dislike. Jin Zixun isn’t starting from an insurmountable disadvantage here. 

And see, the thing that got my attention is this: Earlier in this chapter, Wei Wuxian is a little melancholy, thinking about how since the Sunshot Campaign, lots of people are scared of him, hardly anyone is willing to be alone with him, and almost nobody would ever be willing to approach him alone. And here, we get the information that because Jin Zixun was injured early and wasn’t on the front lines of the Sunshot Campaign, he doesn’t know to be afraid. He tried to provoke Wei Wuxian before the hunt, he’s about to keep provoking Wei Wuxian, he’s Jin Zixun and he doesn’t afraid of anything. Yes, he’s about to say some very hurtful things, but I look at that, and I think ‘okay, now how do we recover from this?’ Giving Wei Wuxian someone who just... plain isn’t afraid of him (but is also derailed by me, your author, from taking that to unrecoverable places) would be good for him. Jiang Cheng will antagonize him and isn’t afraid of him, but they also share years of history and are dealing with a lot of other stresses in this situation, and Jiang Cheng is asking things from Wei Wuxian that Wei Wuxian is struggling to provide, and the golden core thing is still hanging between them. Lan Wangji isn’t afraid of Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian parses his concern and worries as antagonism and criticism, and those stress him out in a whole different way. This dynamic, as much as I would have to work to make it happen, would bring something new to the table.

One of my favorite activities is crackshipping with sincerity, and when I poke at this, it genuinely feels like richer territory than it looks at first glance. A lot of the antagonists share some fascinating character notes with our lead, and what’s most interesting to me here is an elevated-but-precarious social position and the various stresses that puts upon our characters. Jin Guangyao is the most obvious example, and Su She echoes it more quietly, with how he struggled within the Lan Sect and eventually left (honestly, kudos to him for him and mianmian to be two of the only characters to realize that their home was hurting them and to leave). Jin Zixun is in a family position that’s close to being brothers with his sect’s heir, but isn’t quite brothers, and is close to the seat of power, but also in a precarious social position if someone acts against him. Jin Guangshan and Madam Jin create a dysfunctional family dynamic to grow up in, where Jin Guangshan’s heart attention strays from his wife, and his wife has beat at least one kid who wasn’t biologically hers in the household.

There’s some common ground, is all I’m saying

I don’t even know what would happen, necessarily, I’m talking this all out here right now, and the interesting part of ships like this is digging in extra deep, and seeing what unexpected thing shakes out. It isn’t quite in the style of the other notable rarepair fics I have managed to write, which tend to follow a paradigm of ‘[person] is floating unmoored from the world, and [love interest] gets them engaged with life again’, but it’s not totally out of line with my interests. Svsss won’t give us more detail about Tianlang-jun? Okay, what happens if I make him hopelessly fond, what happens then? What happens if I properly re-engage his sense of humor? I hardly had anything of substance to go on with Horuss, and that fic is old, but I managed to pull interesting things out of him with Roxy. And I mean... what does happen when Jin Zixun stops self-destructively antagonizing the people around him and starts acting in more neutral ways? Not even positive, I think this relationship is going to have a strong antagonistic component, but what happens if he stops basing his interactions purely on who gets the higher rung on the social ladder?

Now, I do have a problem, which is that plot is something that happens to other people. See also: the reason there has not been a tianlang-jun sequel. I think that it would almost definitely have to do with repairing the situation between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli and both of them managing to dial it back a LITTLE so as not to completely sabotage their family member’s happiness, and that leading things forward. And in a ridiculous pipe dream that will never be realized, because either possible pov will be completely oblivious, I would also want to include Jin Zixuan’s confused bisexual awakening and his resentful (also confused) attraction towards Wei Wuxian, even if he still ends up with Jiang Yanli, but... wei wuxian isn’t going to notice, and neither is jin zixun, SO. That’s probably right out. And the plot implications would have to be... significant. Setting it post-Sunshot campaign means that the Wen situation is simmering, and any plot that involves me untangling that mess... terrifying! I wouldn’t know where to begin! But like, also. What if I could write this ship in a compelling way. I bet I could do it. Nothing feels as good as the sensation of ‘I have scored points on my own darling readers by convincing them to like something they didn’t want to like’, and usually, I only get that from the second person pov. It would be so hard to write this ship. But also, what if I did it.

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 4/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: The second meeting goes unexpectedly, once again, as Gold reveals more than he intends.

Notes: Thank you so much for all the comments on this fic. I honestly thought it wouldn't be that well received as this Gold is sort of hard to like in places. I'm really enjoying writing this darker version of him, even if it's hard at times to get into his headspace. Enjoy the first of many Skin Deep references, and a slight tick up towards the ultimate rating of this fic. ;) This is the nightie Belle is wearing. Also omg this is unbeta'd and a hot mess, sorry.

[AO3]

If Belle thought that seeing Mr. Gold in the week leading up to her first evening at his house was awkward, then the week after it was excruciating.

All she could think every time she so much as saw him walking by on the street was he’s seen me in my underwear! It made for several days of fierce blushes and unfinished lunches. Her mind kept replaying the moment when she’d turned around to face him again, and he’d let the softest, quietest lovely slip out. She still hadn’t figured out if he’d even meant to say it out loud. It was hard to believe that seeing her in a glorified nightgown had rendered Gold that speechless, especially given how well known he was for having a sharp tongue. She’d witnessed him giving Keith Nottingham a dressing down last summer, right outside the mechanics shop where Keith worked. Even though Keith was well over six feet tall and clearly worked out, Gold made him seem tiny, almost insignificant.

She grinned at the memory.

Keith was a jerk in every sense of the word, and Gold verbally tearing him a new asshole was the least that he deserved. But that was the kind of presence Gold had in the town; the mayor, the sheriff, the district attorney, they all acquiesced to him. Rumors said he had dirt on everyone, that nothing happened within thirty miles of the town line that he didn’t know about. She wondered sometimes whether that was part of why he’d made this deal with her, so that he would know something about her as well, so that he could have that control.

The thought was not comforting, but it was confusing. In theory, she had as much on Gold as he did on her in this situation. In fact, her position would seem far more sympathetic, if embarrassing, and if anyone did find out - god fucking forbid - she highly doubted they would take Gold’s side. It wasn’t the same as whatever he knew about Albert Spencer or Regina Mills, that made them go white as a ghost whenever Gold hinted at it under his breath.

So what the hell was his motivation?

Belle sighed, and regarded herself in the mirror. She’d left the library right on time, and decided that tonight she wouldn’t shower before going to Gold’s. It was a waste of time if every Thursday evening she was going to come home feeling the need to do it again. Instead she sat down to touch up her makeup and hair out of some odd desire to look as nice as possible. It was another one of the things that confused her. She should have said the hell with it, and not cared if her hair needed a good brushing, or if her lipstick had worn off. Yet she did. She cared how she looked, and for as much as Gold was paying her, she figured he might care too.

Last night she’d even put polish on her toenails, a light, shimmery pink, and gave herself a mini pedicure. If she was going to be barefoot again, then that was part of the package too. She’d look as pretty as she could, head to toe - literally, and that way if Gold let anything else slip out, then perhaps he might have reason to mean it.

Belle arrived at Mr. Gold’s house perfectly on time.

Her knock sounded at exactly one minute till seven, she’d checked her phone as she came up the front sidewalk to make sure, and the door opened right as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed the top of the hour.

“Miss French.” Gold’s mouth curved as he gave her a brief, appraising look before stepping back to allow her inside. “Right on time tonight.”

The first thing that she noticed was the bold, pink dress shirt beneath his pinstripe suit. She had noticed a while ago that he preferred a splash of color in his wardrobe, which was usually done through a striking tie or pocket square, but everyone once in a while there was something unexpected; last week it had been his checkered shirt, this week it was a brilliant pink. There was an eccentricity to his style that she appreciated. He appeared very reserved in his manner and dress, yet these little touches reflected something else entirely, something that kept people guessing.

Once again she caught a hint of something from the kitchen, tomatoes and garlic and something spicy. Spaghetti sauce, she assumed, and she made a happy noise, inhaling the mouthwatering scent as Gold once again took her coat and hung it up.

“Well, now I’m even hungrier,” she said. “Does it always smell delicious in here?”

He frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

Bell shrugged. “Didn’t want to eat and then try on clothes, you know?”

He let out a gumbling hum and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “I assume you know where things are?”

She nodded and stopped by the door to the powder room. “Yup.”

“I need to finish cleaning up,” he said, moving past her and into the short hallway to the kitchen. “Will be just a moment.”

As soon as he turned his back, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Her stomach was a mess, unable to decide between hunger pangs and the same vaguely nauseous feeling as last week. She set her purse in the same place on the set of shelves set beside the sink, and slipped off her shoes. She was more than halfway undressed, trousers off and blouse completely unbuttoned, before she thought to look at what Gold had put out for her, and stopped.

The nightie hung on the same padded hanger on the back of the door, looking delicate and pretty and oddly foreboding. It was a light, rosy pink and made of a stretchy cotton blend that was more practical than it was sexy, as was the little robe that went with it, but what her eyes were fixed on was the plunging neckline covered in lace. She swallowed and turned away, letting her blouse fall over her shoulders to catch at her wrists. The chemise from last week was the most unrevealing and basic thing she had, she’d known that, but knowing what else there was to be worn and seeing it hanging in front of her were two different things.

Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and then drew it down before hanging it over one of the posts framing the shelves along with her blouse. Turning back to the door, she took the nightie off the hanger and blanched when she saw the panties beneath it, dangling from one of those metal clips made to hold skirts or pants in place. Her eyes closed and she took a slow breath.

A beat later, she slipped the nightie over her head.

The skirt of it fell just to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her in the front and back, much shorter than what she’d worn last week which was as long as some of her dresses. This was undeniably sexual, meant to tease, and suddenly she was glad there was matching underwear to put on beneath it. She shoved her navy blue pair down and then took them off to lay folded on her trousers. The sensation was strange, so she quickly pulled on the matching panties, and then faced herself in the mirror.

The nightie clipped in the back like a bra, just under where the straps criss-crossed, and it took her a moment to adjust everything to where it needed to be. The cups were soft and lined, giving her breasts a little more coverage than the black silk did, for which she was grateful, although the deep dip in the front showed off just how much cleavage she didn’t have. The panties were the same soft cotton blend as the rest of it, with matching lace at the waist that stretched without digging into anything.

On the whole, now that she had it all on, it didn’t feel so bad. She had a sundress with the same sort of straps and clasp in the back, and aside from the length of the skirt it wasn’t that different. All in all it was actually comfortable enough to sleep in during the summer, she thought, which was sort of why she’d bought it in the first place. It made her wonder if Gold was going in some kind of order, working his way up to what he thought was the most risque and scandalous.

The robe was still on the hanger and she eyed it for a few seconds, trying to decide if she should put it on or not. It was part of what she’d purchased, and Gold had put it out with the nightie, but donning another layer meant she’d probably have to take it off. It was going to be a bit difficult to model the nightie if it was covered up with something else, but given how chilled she’d been last time, she thought she could get away with wearing it at least for a few minutes.

Sighing, she tied the sash of the robe at her waist and then eased open the door to peek into the hallway. Gold was still in the kitchen, if the clang of a pot being set in the sink was anything to go by, so she stepped out and hurried into the study. The doors were closed again, the fire roaring even bigger than last time, and she started to smile. It seemed he might have noticed that she was cold and made accommodations. It was strangely thoughtful, much as his invite to have dinner was, and she struggled to know what to make of all of it.

There was another noise from the kitchen, so she closed the doors quietly, and gave the room a more thorough going over. She’d been so nervous last time that all she’d noticed was the general layout of the room. Assuming she had a few minutes until Gold joined her, she took a leisurely stroll around the space, her eyes scanning all the shelves and walls filled with pieces from Gold’s various collections.

The china cabinet opposite Gold’s chair was lit up this time with two small lights mounted above the top shelf. Belle came to stand in front of it, attracted by the light glinting unusually off of something inside. Her eyes went wide when she saw each shelf was full. Two vases sat on the bottom with an ornate oil lamp between them, dishes painted with landscape scenes, a silver tray beside an array of delicate crystal figurines, and on the top shelf, just at her eye level was the strangest tea set she’d ever seen.

Thin white porcelain had been adorned with flowers, painted in such great detail and outlined in such a way that they looked three dimensional, as though they had been plucked out of a garden. They looked so delicate that the petals might fall free if they were touched, but each cup and saucer as well as the pot and the tray it sat on looked as if they had been broken into a hundred pieces and glued back together with liquid gold.

“Kintsugi.”

Gold’s voice startled Belle, and she backed away from the cabinet as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What?”

His lips curved as he took a leisurely step towards her. “Kintsugi,” he repeated. “That’s what they call it.”

She looked from him to the tea set and back again, until he was standing next to her. “Kint - kintsu-gi?”

He nodded. “It means golden repair in Japanese, the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust.”

Her eyes widened. “Gold dust? Like actual gold?” He gave another nod, and she shook her head, shifting her gaze back to the cabinet, following one of the lines of gold as it trailed from the rim of a cup down through a red rose and over to meet another line that encircled the handle. “Sounds expensive.”

“But beautiful,” added Gold.

Their eyes met in the mirrored back of the cabinet, and Belle held her breath until he looked away and went on to explain how he came to find the set. It had been packed in newspaper in a cardboard box, set inside a bigger box marked FREE at an estate sale in Vermont. Most of the pieces were already broken or chipped in some way, but there were a few books he was interested in at the very bottom so he bought the entire lot. Months later, he came across the box again in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and had the idea to try his hand at repairing it in this way.

“So, you made this?” she asked, unable to suppress the surprise and wonder in her voice.

“Aye,” he said. His voice was low and very close to her ear, and she gripped the knot of the robe tightly. “I fixed all the bits that were already broken, filled in missing pieces with things I had laying around, and smoothed all the jagged edges with extra lacquer.”

Belle shook her head slowly. She couldn’t imagine the patience and care it must have taken to create something so unique and beautiful, particularly when it was incomplete. It was - pleasing, wonderful even, and once again she was struck by the strange dichotomy that was Storybrooke’s Mr. Gold.

“Is it - I mean can you actually, um, use it? Once it’s like this?”

He nodded, smiling crookedly. “The lacquer is made from the sap of a very specific tree, and the gold is dusted over it while it’s still wet and sealed inside, and once it’s all done and hardened, it’s perfectly safe to drink from. I’ve personally used that cup there.”

He pointed to the very cup Belle had been admiring, the one with the fine line splitting the red rose in two, and she smiled. “You made so much beauty out of something so broken.”

“Even chipped cups have some use, don’t they?”

His question surprised her, and she looked over to find him watching her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I think,” she said, “that in this case the best teacup is chipped.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and abruptly, he turned and crossed the room to the same chair he’d taken before. Belle blew out a slow breath, her mind spinning and struggling to wrap itself around the sudden shift from their conversation to the purpose of her being here. It was as if her reply had struck a nerve, but she wasn’t sure how.

She heard the creak of the leather as he sat, and after a long moment, she turned away from the china cabinet and its precious contents, and walked to the end of the ottoman. She licked her lips as her hands went to the knot of her robe, and lifted her eyes to his. The end of the sash pulled free easily, the pressure on her waist releasing as the two sides of the robe slid open. She swore she heard his breath hitch, the slight little hiccup and inhale of air, but he otherwise remained completely still as she shrugged her shoulders, sending the robe shimmying down her arms.

It landed on the ottoman behind her with a muted wisp, and she took another step forward. The edge of the nightie brushed her thighs, reminding her of how short it was, and she felt a heat that wasn’t from the fire creep up her neck. She bit her lip as her hands came up to her stomach and then dropped to her sides, unsure of what to do with them.

Gold meanwhile was just staring dazedly at her. His head lolled slightly to one side and then straightened, as one might when observing the way the light illuminated a work of fine art. The thought was absurd, and she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against the lace.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked softly. “Would you - would you like a drink?”

The question brought him out of the odd trance he’d been in, and he shifted in his seat before meeting her eyes. “Yes, a scotch please, Miss French.”

She turned and made her way around the end of the ottoman, crossing between it and the fireplace, feeling his eyes on her all the way to the bar. She was so grateful to be out of the heat for a minute that even the cold floor felt nice on her feet. For some reason the room was much warmer tonight than it had been last night, and she thought maybe she should say something about finding a happy medium.

Drink in hand, she walked back to stand closer to his chair, and held it out for him. He lifted his hand from where it was resting to take the glass by the bottom, keeping a sliver of a distance between where her fingers were around the rim and his. In doing so, he caught the hem of the nightie, and when he pulled the glass away and raised it to his lips, the hem went with it. It lifted slightly, just enough to feel a light flutter of air against her legs when it settled back into place. She stepped back immediately, conscious of the fact that it may have been enough for him to glimpse the matching panties underneath.

A shiver washed over her despite the flushing of her face, and she crossed her arms over her middle, her upper arms pushing her breasts together. Gold’s eyes dipped down, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip, just before he touched the glass to his mouth. She caught herself pressing her thighs together unconsciously as he sipped and swallowed, and took another step back until a blast of warmth from the fire made her stop.

“Thank you,” Gold said simply.

His expression was blank, as if nothing had occurred between them at all, and she knew that she was once again dismissed. Once again the abrupt change in his demeanor unsettled her, but she couldn’t give voice to any of the questions in her head. Instead, she gave him a short nod, and moved to leave, pausing to snatch up the robe before she all but ran from the study.

The bathroom was like an odd little oasis when Belle returned to it. She sighed at the cool air wrapping around her, calming her heated skin, and leaned back against the closed door, breathing slowly. The kintsugi, the conversation, the way he looked at her, she could make no sense of it. Whatever this was about for him, she couldn’t keep letting it affect her. She had to think of this weird arrangement as a job, nothing more. It was something she was doing for money - a lot of money, mind - but a paycheck all the same.

She blew out a breath and changed back into her clothes, deciding to leave the lingerie on the hanger again. If he wanted her to keep the items, then he could say so. She was tired of guessing his reasons and desires for any of this.

Gold was waiting for her when she opened the powder room door. He was standing with his cane, leaning a bit to the side as if he had to put most of his weight on it to keep himself upright, and holding a glass storage container with a plastic lid. She frowned at it as she lifted her purse strap onto her shoulder, and then looked up at him.

“For you,” he said, holding the container out for her to take.

Her eyes darted down to the offering as she reached for it hesitantly. “Okay...?”

“It’s lasagna. That’s - that’s what I made for dinner. I thought since you hadn’t eaten...” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Belle took the container from his hand and stared down at the lid. She could see a large square of something inside, with hints of red and creamy white. The scent of food still lingered in the air, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Gold let out a soft, short laugh, and shook his head. “It’s still warm, sort of, but I recommend putting the container in the oven and letting it come up to 350. That should heat it through.” He folded his hands over the handle of his cane, and then added, “With the lid off, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. Confused as to why he was giving her food, but pleased she wouldn’t have to make anything when she got home, she lifted her eyes to him. “Um, thanks.”

“No matter.”

He followed her to the door, holding her coat for her once more, and then bid her good night.

The walk home was comfortably cool, but smelling of fresh lasagna the entire way.

By the time Belle reached the door of her apartment, she was starving and had determined that this time the vague feeling of nauseous indigestion was from lack of food rather than anything that had transpired with Gold. He had been a gentleman about nearly everything, except for whatever those accidental brushes had been, and he cooked like he should have his own restaurant. The small touches were clearly accidental, and the odd sensation that came over this evening was easily ignored. If he did it again, she might consider saying something or changing her tactic of fetching his drink, but for now it was certainly more tolerable than half of the dates she’d had.

Garrett would have had his hand up her skirt in minutes, which was a thought that made her entire body cringe now that their relationship has ended so spectacularly.

As strange as it might seem, she was more intrigued by Gold than disturbed or repulsed. The story of the tea set was charming, and the fact that the person who could remake some useless, broken bits into something so pretty was the same as the person who offered her a deal to parade around his study in lingerie, left her head spinning. She wanted to know how that was possible, and thought that perhaps over the next few weeks she might find out.

He seemed perfectly willing to talk to her, revealing small clues here and there, but once he realized he had, he tried to close up again. She supposed some of that was part of how he maintained his enigmatic personality within the town, yet there was also the possibility that no one had ever bothered to take an interest in him before. Maybe he had no idea how to deal with that, maybe he had some of the same anxieties about social situations as she did, though in her case it had somehow turned into a peculiar ability to make friends easily. In his case it kept people at arm's length, much the same as his prim, fitted suits and colorful shirts portrayed a baffling combination.

She put the container of lasagna, sans lid, in the oven as instructed, and left it to warm up while she took a shower. This evening she didn’t feel dirty or uncomfortable, it was just the end of a long day and she was more than ready for a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. The lasagna was, as expected, fantastic. The cheese wasn’t too thick or stringy, and the mozzarella had been mixed with something else that gave it a sharper, more aged flavor. In place of plain ground beef he’d used some kind of sausage that was just spicy enough to leave a lingering heat behind, but not too much that it burned, and the notes of fennel blended well the spice. He had been heavy on the fresh garlic and basil as well, which were probably her favorite parts. She was prone to using a bit too much of them herself, and she smiled as she shoved the last forkful in her mouth.

She contemplated asking him to add dinner to the deal, but that would make the whole arrangement feel like something it wasn’t. They weren’t dating, they weren’t friends; it was just a weird business transaction, needs and wants.

She needed money, and he was providing. Though what Gold wanted from any of it would likely remain a mystery.

Gold leaned back in his chair as he savored the last bit of his second glass of scotch.

Belle had been less nervous this time, perhaps because he’d spoken to her about the tea set. He hadn’t intended to do so, but the way she was looking at it was - indescribable, like the way she might look at a painting or sculpture by one of the old masters, with a kind of curious awe. What she’d said about the chipped cup was incidental, he knew it was not some kind of metaphor or anything, even if restoring the set had been far more personal for him than he’d let on. She seemed quite pleased with his story, and he wondered idly what she might say if he put it up for sale in his shop. Would she want to buy it? Would she use the money he’d paid her to have it?

If he closed his eyes, he knew he would be able to recall the moment perfectly, the soft flutter of the rosy fabric as it fell from her arms, exposing more beneath it. The brief brush of those fingers against her, the hint of the lacy panties hiding under the skirt, the same precious pink as the rest of it, made him shiver. He didn’t think she’d noticed, or if she had maybe she had assumed it was an accident. It was, partially, but instead of pulling away when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d continued, waiting to see if she would move first. She hadn’t; he didn’t know what that meant.

The nightie had a teasing, innocent look to it, but it bared more than it covered. He’d gotten an eyeful of her skin, so creamy and soft looking, supple if it were pressed, and flushed the prettiest pink in the warmth of the room. He wondered how else he might make her blush like that, and shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs as his own skin prickled with heat. He raised his hand, touching the fingertips that had touched her so briefly to his lips as his other hand moved to his waist, adjusting the pressure of his trousers and belt.

She had looked so beautiful tonight. Truthfully, she always did, but there was something about having her here, in his sanctuary, that made so much keener. A tingling throb twitched between his legs, and he gave in and pressed his palm to the front of his trousers, running the heel of it up and down his rapidly hardening cock. He couldn’t touch her again like that, couldn’t cross that line, no matter how much the image of her bare thighs tormented him.

Sighing, he forced his hand back to the arm of the chair and breathed slowly until his body calmed. As much as he wanted to take himself in hand and call to mind one of any number of fantasies, that was another line he couldn’t let himself cross. He was the monster they all said he was, in every way but that.

After a few minutes, Gold pushed to his feet, ignoring the lingering flush that crept up his neck and the ache low in his belly as he headed upstairs for another chilling shower.

( This is kintsugi. It's one of my favorite things and someday I too will have a tea set like in this fic. )

[snackhobi]

Hi! I read your fic “catch your drift” a while ago and I absolutely adored it! One thing that really stuck out to me was the way you really seemed to know what you were talking about, the amount of research you probably did was insane!

I was wondering, with a niche subject like that, how did you do your research for that? What kind of media did you watch/read to learn more about it? I’ve been thinking of writing a story like that myself, but I have no idea where to start. It’s writers like you that inspire me to put extra care into my stories, because it always shows at the end! You’re an amazing writer, I can’t wait to see what else you put out in the future <3

hi lovely! okay, first of all, I want to say thank you so much for enjoying cyd but also for noticing all the details!! I did do quite a bit of research (I fell down a rabbit hole, really) and it’s nice to know that it makes the world feel realistic/makes it seem that I knew what I was talking about 💕

for me, when it comes to doing research for subjects I’m not familiar with, I sort of have two overarching segments: 1) the technical details, and 2) the visual details. I’ll break down exactly what I mean by those, using examples from cyd (though I wrote the story over a year ago so I might miss some bits and pieces, hopefully it should help to give you an idea 🥰) (under a cut because WHOO did I go on for a bit) -

1) the technical details

I’m not a drift racer, so honestly, I did a lot of googling and digging around for things! my first stop was wikipedia, which gave me a general idea of what drifting was like/involved, and then I delved deeper from there (because it only really talks about the official drifting competitions, which is obviously different to an underground community). I found articles from car magazines that spoke about the underground tweaking/drifting community in south korea and japan, so I knew they were reputable sources (or that they at least knew what they were talking about!). that’s how I got my details on the types of car they use in that community, on what it’s like to be a drifter over there. I found websites that broke down drifting jargon so I had a dictionary to refer to. I also watched youtube videos of people who’d visited the underground meets, so I got a feel of what it was like/they would often talk about the specs of each car, which helped as well.

I remember I got details of the area around seoul/the main drifting areas from the articles I mentioned, but I also looked at a map and did some googling for areas that seemed to work for what I already had in mind (like the meet in yongsan, which has a US military base, hence why the driver there had a mustang - another american car).

stuff like this does take time to research but I like to write about subjects I enjoy/find interesting so it’s fun to read up on it!!

the reason why I think of these as the technical details is because they’re facts related to the subject I’m talking about (drifting/life in south korea/the car community there etc). it’s the nitty gritty stuff. not only do I try to find relevant terminology, I also try to read around the subject enough to know how that terminology is then used; if I’m not sure, then I avoid using it. (it’s sort of like in movies when you see someone playing a video game, and they’re using the wrong controller for the wrong console and the game on screen doesn’t match up with what the person is doing - it’s like you have all the relevant parts, but when you put them together, it’s clear that you don’t know what you’re talking about. you know? if in doubt, leave it out.)

the visual details are a bit different.

2) the visual details

this is a bit more of a vague thing and I might not describe it very well, but visual details are usually visual references/things that give me an idea of how to describe how something looks/feels, rather than the actual moving parts inside it. I’ve never watched fast and furious or need for speed, BUT I already knew that they existed, so I looked up videos of races in them for an idea of how everything looked/felt. (sort of related to the videos I mentioned above of the car meets, but, yes.) I also watched other drifting videos from competitions, and I looked up images/videos of the cars I mentioned in the story, so I could describe them in a way that would feel accessible but also interesting? for example the sentence “2007 Solstice GXP” probably doesn’t mean anything to someone who doesn’t know about cars, but if you then describe it being shorter than other cars and how it drifts around corners, that’s the focal point of the scene. it’s all in the visual description vs the technical name. a visual detail is immediately accessible because you’re describing what someone can see, which doesn’t require any foreknowledge of the subject.

obviously a lot of this will vary dependant on what your personal style is like, but if I drop in specific terminology that I think a reader might not know, I’ll then explain it, too. so it’s mixing the visual with the technical. here’s an example: “he throws you off when he slings himself out of a turn and slides into a choku-dori, the zig-zagging motion of his car catching you off guard” - choku-dori is the name of a specific drifting move, but I don’t expect people to know that, which is why I then describe the zig-zagging motion; it relates a visual detail (accessible) to a technical one (probably not as accessible).

(pinterest can be fantastic for reference pictures, dependent on your topic. I’ll save visual references for quick refs if I find ones I like!)

so, for me, with any subject, it’s about researching what you need to know about the topic you’re writing about, and researching how to then make it come across in your story in a way that’s interesting, and accessible, and makes sense. honestly, a lot of my research is googling, and reading, and learning key terms from that reading, which then means I can research more effectively, which is an ongoing cycle for each story I have going on. sometimes you’ll do far more research than comes up in the final product, but it’s better to have too much than not enough! I know it can feel daunting to start with, coming at a subject that you might not know anything about, but for the most part googling things is enough to trick people into thinking you’re an expert 🤭 (although if there are any drifting experts out there who are laughing at my newbie slip ups or whatever then I apologise and also you will be forever cooler than me 🤧)

one other source of references which I think might not occur to people is other fanfic. obviously don’t plagiarise, but if you wanted to write a drifting story, you could use places/terminology/cars from catch your drift as a springboard for your own research, for example! (you said you’ve been thinking about “writing a story like that” and if you mean a drifting one, feel free to drop me another message because I’ve still saved a bunch of the links I used to reference from! I didn’t save all of them bc I’m a clown but I have at least enough to give you an idea of what it’s like ✨)

I hope that made sense!! and if you need me to clarify something or explain it in a way that’s not garbled and rambly, honestly please drop into my inbox any time! good luck!

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-19)

Word count: 4.9K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Fluffy stuff for real ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I kinda sorta really like this part. It was so fun to write :)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​. Thank you , love <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Coffee?” She squeaked, gulping, eyes going wide. 

“Or not,” Sam said quickly, panic rising inside him like a tidal wave. She didn’t want to spend time with him after all. Heartbreak stronger than what he could have imagined ripped through him. So everything that she’d said last night…

“I-” Y/N started to say, clearly taken aback. It was so easy to read her face that Sam wanted to kick himself for even thinking that this was a good idea.

“It’s alright,” he said, voice low. “I understand if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she protested immediately, then seemed to regret the haste. “I mean… coffee sounds nice. I just… didn’t expect...” her voice trailed off.

She was being honest. Sam could, at least, see that. 

“I thought maybe we should talk,” he said, then added carefully. “Catch up.”

Y/N nodded, a speculative look in her eyes. 

Her eyes. Just like that Sam was lost, marveling at the beauty of them and how they were the most beautiful pair of eyes in the world.

Get a grip! 

He had to scold himself to keep his hungover head on track. “I think we could both use some caffeine after all.”

“Give me a minute.”

Sam saw her rush into the librarian’s room. When she came back, she had a pretty paisley scarf wrapped around her neck. The sheen of the silk reminded Sam of the satin she’d been wearing last night and again, he had to wrench himself back to the present.

What was happening? This was worse than being fixated on a high school crush.

Worse because he didn’t have the excuse of being a hormone driven teenager; because he didn’t want to bring up the pain of the past or face the uncertainty of the future. This was worse because he couldn’t say any of it to her here, where he was a professor and she was a student.

“Ready,” she breathed, coming to stand next to him.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked as they stepped out of the library and walked along the long corridor of the quad overlooking the shadowed trees. 

Y/N pursed her lips. “I actually don’t know any places around here. Just the campus cafes.”

Sam was through with students spotting him, at least for a week. The last thing he needed was someone to rush up to him now.

“I think I know just the place.”

Y/N walked quietly besides him. Sam didn’t peek to see the expression on her face; he stared straight ahead. If he sneaked a glance and found her to be apprehensive, he didn’t think his nerves could take it. Better to assume that she was lost in thought than to confirm she was regretting her decision.

The small café was very close to his home, and thereby hers too. Just two lanes down. Sam had discovered it by fluke on a morning jog, nestled in a small niche of the college town. The café wasn’t grand, which made it all the more cozy. He grabbed his coffee every morning from here before heading for classes or work. Fortunately, the place didn’t have many students coming there. They mostly just preferred the Starbucks on the campus or the other scattered cafes with more seating space. 

Sam opened the door for Y/N, and she stepped in with a murmured thank you. He saw her eyes take in the low ceiling, paneled in dark wood and supported by long wooden beams. The furniture was eclectic and mismatched, as if it had been put together at different times- which it probably had. She would like it, he thought. It was exactly her style.

The barista, Suzy, grinned when she saw him. 

“There you are!” She admonished him. “I thought my most reliable customer had abandoned me.”

Sam shook his head at her. “I had to be in LA for a couple of days… that sort of thing…”

He felt Y/N’s curious gaze on his face. But what was he gonna tell Suzy? That he had been too busy pining after Y/N to make a round? 

“We missed you around here,” she said, then called back, “Ain’t that right, Matt?”

“My Sun wouldn’t rise without seeing your face!” Matt yelled from somewhere inside and Sam chuckled.

“The usual?” Suzy asked and Sam nodded. 

She turned to Y/N, “What can we get you, ma’am?”

“A Cappuccino, please.”

“Regular?”

“Large, please.”

Sam threw her a swift look. All that caffeine on a weak stomach?

“What name do I write?” 

“Oh, it’s not to go,” Sam said quickly. “ We’ll have it here.” 

Suzy raised her eyebrow, her eyes flitting between him and Y/N curiously.

Sam hurriedly turned, gesturing towards the table at the very end, next to the window. It was his favorite place here. 

The memories he had in Stanford, in California were all his. Nothing here had ever been touched by Y/N. Wasn’t that why he had moved from New York, because he couldn’t live in that apartment anymore? Moved across the damn country to escape the pain? And here he was subtly including her in all his new memories, too. Sam could barely think of the library without imagining her behind the desk. Could he come to his café now without thinking of her?

So lost was he in the thought, that before he could pull the chair for her, Y/N had seated herself. Slowly, he sat down opposite to her.

Before Sam could say anything, Y/N burst out. “I’m so sorry about last night! I don’t know what had gotten into me.”

Sam knew. She had been mad at him for going out on a date. While it had made him angry yesterday, today, it just made him feel a tiny bit smug. Y/N apparently didn’t know that he knew.

“You don’t need to apologize-” he started, but she cut him off.

“Just let me get through this, please?” She pleaded.

Had he ever said ‘no’ to her ‘please?’ Sam didn’t think so. He motioned with his hand to continue, giving up.

“I just… It’s very embarrassing to even think about you having to take me home like that,” she slapped her hand across her forehead. “Your evening was ruined because of me. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, or even how ashamed-”

“Y/N-” he cut in, despite having committed to listening to her. It was simply inacceptable to let her stew in this feeling if he could help it. “You didn’t ruin my evening. If anything, you saved me.”

“What?”

“I ran into a couple of girls- oh, from your class. It wasn’t very comfortable,” he admitted. “I didn’t even want to be at the bar to begin with. To top it off, Jody kinda stood me up. You were my knight in shining armour.”

“More like dame sloshing with alcohol,” she snorted. “I’m sorry about Rebecca and Lacey. To be fair, I did try to stop them.”

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, and then couldn’t help but tease. “You don’t like them very much, do you?”

Y/N bit her lip. “It’s not like that.”

It totally was. He could see it all over her face- the guilt that she had given away her bad impression of someone. It just wasn’t like her to think ill of anyone. All the same, Sam wondered why she didn’t like them. Had they been mean to her?

“I hope I didn’t say or do anything that I shouldn’t have last night.” she was looking down at her hands. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Even to him, his voice sounded chagrined and defeated. 

“No, I don’t.” Her brows furrowed, voice rising. “Did I do something? What happened last night?”

Sam took a deep breath, and said with as much confidence as he could muster. “Nothing happened. I walked you home and you went straight to bed. That’s all.”

“So we didn’t sit on a sidewalk anywhere?”

Shit. Lying to her was going to be dicey if she even remembered bits and parts. 

So, instead of answering her question, Sam countered, “What do you remember?”

The hand on her forehead slid down to cover part of her face. “Nothing,” she groaned, trying hard to think. “I remember absolutely nothing. One minute I was asking for the- gosh, I don’t even remember what number drink it was and the next moment I was throwing up in the toilet.”

Sam winced. “That bad, huh?”

Y/N shook her head. “Not really. I feel fine now. Fine enough to risk a large coffee.” She tilted her head towards the cup before her.

There was one in front of him, too. Where had the coffee come from? He hadn’t even noticed anyone place it on the table.

“Thanks for the water,” she added. “It made all the difference, I think.”

“I’m glad.”

“You didn’t tell me, though,” she insisted, not giving in to his track change. “Did we ever sit on a footpath?”

The impatience and doubt in her voice hinted that she might be remembering exactly what he was. Her hands around his waist, fingers digging into his shirt. Clearly, telling her the truth would only upset her. It was better to play safe.

“Just for a bit. Your feet were hurting.”

“You’re being very illusive,” she accused, eyes narrowed.

“And that’s how I make my living,” he grinned. “Really, though. You were mostly out of it. You fell asleep the minute your head hit the sack.”

“Why did you stay, then?”

Y/N could put the Spanish inquisition to shame, Sam thought, asking the exact questions he didn’t want to answer. 

She’d make a damn good attorney.

“Because I was worried you might get nauseous and then trip on the way to the bathroom.”

“Uhhhgg. This is the worst,” she threw her hands up. “I wish there was some way I could erase that out of your memory.”

If there had been a way, Sam would have resisted with the last bit of his strength. There was no chance he was ever ridding his mind of even a second from last night. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up,” he said as lightly as he could. “After all, you did save me from those girls last night. Consider us even.”

“You guys want anything else?”

Sam looked up to see Matt standing over him with a huge grin. Sam could take a few guesses about what was on Matt’s mind.

Ignoring Matt’s smirk, Sam looked at Y/N expectantly. 

“Nothing for me. Thank you,” she said shyly.

“The usual for you, Sam?” Matt wiggled his eyebrows. 

He sighed. “I don’t have a usual for food, Matt. You know that I don’t eat here.”

“You liked that burger one time,” he reminded, lingering on purpose, eyes flitting curiously to Y/N for just a second.

“Fine. Get the burger!” And maybe leave us alone.

“Okie dokie,” he grinned again, whistling as he went away, no doubt to gloat to Suzy about how he has successfully taken Sam’s case up.

“Make it to go,” Sam hollered after him.

Right then, his cellphone rang shrilly. Excited, Sam looked at the screen, then rolled his eyes in slight disappointment when he read the name. He put the phone to his ear. “Chase.”

“Samuel!” The voice drawled on the other end. “How be it going, m’ boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Samuel or m’ boy?”

“Both, just both.” He sighed. “What do you want?”

Y/N was sipping on her coffee, trying to look inconspicuous, but really, it wasn’t like she could avoid listening in on the conversation.

“You were supposed to be at the office, why is your cabin empty?”

Sam knew very well that he had to go through the depositions once more before the hearing on Monday. Chase was the primary, and he wasn’t very confident. He’d asked Sam to go through it. In fact, he’d had Stacey- Sam’s secretary- to put it on Sam’s calendar.

“I’m a bit hungover right now. Just mail the depositions to me?”

“No can do. Come over tomorrow. I want to go over the papers with you.”

“It’s a Sunday!”

Chase laughed. “And when has that stopped you from working?”

It hadn’t, but Sam couldn’t go tomorrow. He had been waiting for a solid month, dragging his way through the day by looking at the photo by his bedside. He couldn't say that out loud with Y/N here, though. 

“Chase,” he said carefully. “I can’t tomorrow. You know what day it is.”

“Oh, right! But I won’t take your whole day. Just drop by in the morning, I swear it won’t be more than an hour. And I’ll owe you one.”

“I’m starting to think, having you owe one is even worse than owing you one.”

Y/N giggled into the cup and then tried to conceal it by coughing. It made Sam smile automatically, but also got him annoyed that he was wasting this stolen time with her on a phone call from Chase Lincoln of all people.

“If that’s it then,” Sam said, pulling the phone away from his ear when Chase’s protests sounded.

“No nooo wait. We didn’t even talk about the weekend.”

“What about the weekend?” 

“It’s the Induction fair, isn’t it?” Chase sounded appalled. “Don’t you teach there? You ought to know, man! We’ll have a blast.”

“It’s only the induction fair. It’s the same every year.”

“But this year Jess is coming.”  Chase stressed. Sam could almost see his shit eating grin. “Ask her out this time, please? By now, you’ll have to relearn how to be around a girl!”

Oh the irony. Sam just might get to be around the girl, if Chase would just shut up. 

“Goodbye, Lincoln!” Sam cut the call, impossibly irritated. Y/N was already done with her coffee while he hadn’t touched his.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “It’s work.”

“That’s fine,” she waved it off. “It sounded like you were talking to a friend.”

Chase was his friend- at least when he wasn’t interrupting. He had been working with Sam for years now, as his junior associate. Somewhere between staying up at nights, poring over casefiles and silent, calculative glances in courtrooms, they had become friends.

“He’s alright,” Sam shrugged.

“Were you talking about the Stanford Induction Fair?” 

There was a twinkle in her eye. Y/N was clearly very excited about this. And despite how grumpy he had been when Chase had brought the topic up, Sam wanted to talk all about the Induction fair now. It was fairly basic. The alumni came over for talks and activities. There was a lot of drinking.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re heading the Committee, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am, but you don’t like it very much.” She surmised. Funny how even now, she got him just like that. 

“It means long days and nights, especially since I’ve been invited for a talk,” Sam answered more fully. “Chase is a couple years younger. We were in Stanford at the same time, but I didn’t know him then. He’s usually excited for these kinds of things. Happy to show off for the college girls.”

Y/N giggled. “How will it be different for you?”

“Well, I get to dress casually and bully you newbies around if I want to,” he said, “And oh, you get to call me Sam for the day.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, because her face fell for an instant. It was a reminder of the past, even if he hadn't meant it that way- of how things had changed. So Sam had been right in his assessment after all. She had suppressed a good chunk of past, buried it so deep down that not even the light of conscious thoughts touched it. 

Y/N rearranged her features back into a smile, the corner of her lips quirked up. “I’m sure the girls club will have a field day with that one.”

Sam felt his cheeks heat up. Here’s something he hadn’t expected. To have his wife tease him about other girls. He was even less excited about the induction knowing that Jess would be there. That was bound to be awkward as it was, but with Y/N heading the preparation, he didn’t know how to maneuver around. He could hope that Y/N wouldn’t remember about his college girlfriend, but it didn’t seem likely. If Y/N had dated anyone before him, Sam wouldn’t have forgotten the name, either.

Jess coming here was like an omen that Sam couldn’t outrun his past. More than that, he couldn’t outrun the conversation he had been putting off for so long now. The hard part was doing it without opening her buried wounds. 

He took a sip of his now cold coffee. “Where does this leave us, Y/N?” Did she notice how his voice softened when he said her name? How could she not? “What’re we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, slowly… almost like her voice was choking up. “I don’t know what to do. But, I do know that I can’t go back to not talking. I can’t go back to that first week. I just can’t.” She was rapidly blinking her eyes.

“I suppose we can, at least, be friends, right?” Sam asked, keeping the hopeless yearning out of his voice and almost succeeding. It was beyond dramatic, but Sam knew he would be devastated if she refused. “We’d started out as friends. We can still do that.”

Don’t say no, Don’t say no.

“What about college?” She asked. “No one can know.”

The relief was a plausible, physical thing. She wasn’t refusing… she was just being pragmatic.

“Then we don’t tell anyone,” he suggested. “How hard can it be?”

Her voice was grim, when she said, “Wouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world.”

***********

You had known that this place was special to Sam the moment the barista’s eyes had lit up, but as he picked up his parcel while leaving, you noticed how Suzy and Matt kept exchanging loaded glances with each other. It looked like Sam was going to have a lot of questions to answer when he came back alone. You weren’t clueless about what was happening. Those two were going to hound him about you, about his date. 

But was that what this was? A date?

He had asked you out, picked the place and paid the bill, despite your protests. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you might have construed all that teasing as light flirting. On your part, you definitely didn’t interact with other people like this. Just Sam. It had always just been Sam.

At first you had feared that he was going to be mad about last night, or worse, hurl all the accusations of the past. Not that you didn’t deserve it, but that would mean the end of whatever you had going for you right now- this careful and fragile relation that Sam wanted to call friendship. You were dubious about the prospect because being with him was like falling. Once you tipped off the edge, you could never go back to the way it was. You could only hurtle downwards with insurmountable speed. Who could ever fight gravity? Loving him was exactly like that- like gravity. Even when you had been standing at the edge of the cliff, resisting that fall, it was his love that kept you tethered to the ground.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, walking next to you.

And despite your better judgement, you spit out the truth, “I’m waiting for you to… not be so calm.”

He didn’t say anything, and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you looked up at his face. Sam was frowning lightly, not like he was angry, but like he was trying to frame words. “It’s not coming, Y/N. Anger or whatever it is you’re waiting for.” He looked at you for just a split second and you saw through him clearly in that moment. 

Sam had been angry at some point, maybe even more than that. Your insides started to feel like they were being pierced with tiny needles at the thought of what must have happened after you left. You couldn’t let yourself think about it, and Sam could see that. He could see right through you, and just how easy it would be to riddle you with holes by firing questions. Maybe he still cared enough to not want to see you in such a pitiable state. Or maybe the anger wasn’t coming now. Either way, he didn’t seem to want to elaborate, and you were too damn scared to ask. 

There was something else that you wanted to know about. You had been dying to know since you first saw him.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked hesitantly.

Sam looked wary but he nodded. “Sure, anything.”

“How’s….” Your throat closed up. “How’s Jo? And Dean and aunt El?”

Sam’s stiff shoulders relaxed and a hint of a smile touched his lips. You felt yourself deflate right along with him, the answer clear on his face before he even spoke the words. 

“Jo-” The grin widened- “Jo’s doing great. She runs the diner now… took over from Ellen five years ago. Ellen’s part of this biker gang. From what I know, she’s loving life on the road. Jo’s expanding the business, owns two more diners. And Dean’s pretty much the same. They got married two summers ago.”

You stopped walking. “Got… married…?” You blinked, feeling a wetness at the corner of your eyes. And yet your lips were stretching into a smile.

“Yes,” he said smiling, as well, “They’re very happy.”

You hurried to wipe your tears, feeling the extreme joy warring against the immense sadness. Jo and Dean deserved this happiness more than about anyone you knew. You had teased your cousin endlessly about how they might end up having the same surname one day, and then they would be twice the sisters than they already were. Every cell in your body missed her.

Sam seemed to be on the verge of adding some more, but he stopped himself. You wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you. Was it the same church they had married in? Had she missed you? Did she still miss you at all? 

If that was the case, you were glad that Sam didn’t say anything more. You didn’t know what would hurt worse- the confirmation or the denial. As for you? You were elated that your family was safe and happy.

It wasn’t hard to see that Sam had been very careful today about what he said, clearly being evasive, but you wouldn’t dream of pushing him on that. Whatever you were getting out of his words, his company and his kindness was still more than you could ever ask for. You knew that very well.

The two of you were almost to the turn of your building, the high wall with creepers coming into view.

“Y/N,” Sam said as you reached the gate- each time he said your name, a spark flew through your body. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you… from the very moment I saw you.”

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered.

“I-" He whispered, voice fervent, "I’m… just so incredibly proud of you, Y/N! You did it! You got into Stanford!”

He breathed out heavily, as if the words had been waiting to burst out.

“They were running through resumes to form the committee for the induction fair, I happened to read yours,” Sam continued, “Pre-law and a license for paralegal practice while working two jobs? That’s just-” he looked around to find the right word- “That’s phenomenal! And you got in with a full-ride! Not that I doubted it for a second. But it doesn’t make me feel any less vindicated. Doesn’t make me any less proud.”

You put your face in both your hands and finally started shaking, crying into your palms.

“Hey?” Very tentatively his hand landed on your shoulder, his fingers curling to the shape of it. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, not taking your hands away from your face. What were you going to tell him? That you didn’t think there was anyone left anymore who’d be happy for you? Let alone be proud? The day that you had opened the acceptance letter for Stanford, your very soul wanted to run towards Sam, the way your nineteen year old self had, barefooted and in pouring rain. Even in those dark days, when you tried with all your might to not think about him, for that one day you had allowed yourself to freely imagine how Sam would have reacted to the news. He had always pushed you, drilled it in your head that no law school was beneath you. He’d wanted this for you more than you had wanted it for yourself. And here you were, getting to live the moment. See the absolute victory in his eyes.

Sam’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “Y/N, you have to know, no matter the circumstances, no matter if we had met or not, I would’ve always been proud of you. Always. You can’t seriously question that!”

It made you cry harder. 

Sam’s other hand came to rest over yours, on your face. “You know those girls in your apartment really don’t like me. I swear if they see you crying now, one of them is going to come at me with a machete.”

You laughed despite yourself and turned a bit to wipe your face on your scarf. It was regretful that it meant Sam had to drop both his hands. You could smell his cologne, the one that you'd gifted him.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Yesterday I passed out on you and today I’m a blubbering mess.”

Beyond the tall gates, the fountain in the meadow gurgled softly.

“I guess I’ll see you Monday, then?” You asked, feeling more dejected than you should have. 

“Soon,” Sam sighed, and absentmindedly, from the sheer force of habit, just like he had done a hundred times before, he stepped, hand twitching to reach out to your cheek. Halfway there, he took a deep breath and placed it against your arm instead. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

With that he sidestepped and started walking back the way you had come. You stared after him. Just around the corner he turned back and called. “Go in, it’s starting to get cold. And oh, say hi to Judgy Judy for me!” With a wink he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Judgy Judy? What the hell had happened last night?

In a daze, you crossed the meadow and climbed up the stairs, completely forgetting the lift. Lost in thought, you turned the key in the lock and were met by an uproar the moment the door opened.

“See, now you’re dead, Y/N!” Kevin said, exasperated.

“Excuse me, what?”

Kevin was standing on the Sofa along with Jack. Meg was sitting on the kitchen island with both her feet drawn up and Cas was standing on the parapet of the balcony.

“And now you’re deader than dead. Get out of the lava!” Jack sighed.

Either you were very slow or the world wasn’t making sense anymore.

“We’re playing the floor is lava,” Cas explained patiently from the other end of the room. “And you’re charring very quickly by standing there.”

You yanked your shoes and hurried over to Meg’s bean bag, opposite to the balcony and jumped on it. 

“It doesn’t matter now, you’re already dead,” Kevin announced.

“Hey, asshole, it’s her house,” Meg said. “She gets an extra life, or you get kicked out. Take a pick.”

“Fine, if you want to play it like that,” Kevin huffed. 

The bean bag was placed such that you were standing closest to Cas, who turned slightly pink when he met your gaze. So Meg had told him that you knew. 

You threw him a huge grin, but Cas’s eyes zeroed in on you. “Have you been crying?” He asked. 

Well, so much for escaping the observant guys of this building. You shook your head. 

“I’m standing on the balcony, you know. I can see the gate from here,” he said mildly. Cas wasn’t trying to force anything out of you, he was just concerned, which made it even easier to tell him.

“I’m really happy, Cas. Don’t worry about it.”

His blue eyes tightened for a second, then the twinkle returned in them. “You’re happy,” he said, lips twitching, “But are you alive?” The next moment, he stepped on the bean bag, throwing you out of balance and you had to step down on the carpet to steady yourself.

“C’mon, she’s dead for real this time,” Kevin complained, looking at Meg, who shrugged. 

“I tried, Y/N.”

But you were happy to take the next turn to be the counter as everyone scrambled up again, and take the turn after that, and do it with a smile. Tonight you wouldn’t stop smiling.

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

A/N 2: Who’s happy that we are getting some happy stuff?

*Raises hand* ME!

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[our-heroes-rise]

so i'm just a bit pudgy and get anxious to wear summer stuff and i know i shouldn't but still lol 😅 maybe hcs for deku/baku/todo/kiri/denki with an s/o trying to boost her self confidence by wearing more revealing clothes? what do the boys like to see their s/o in too?

as someone who is also a bit chubby, i very much appreciated this request, i love writing things with soft pudgy readers. they’re just so c u t e! anddd body positivity ya know, you have every right to love yourself hehe. also don’t be so hard on yourself about being anxious to wear something, i still get the same way too when i’m picking out my clothes for summer. it’s totally okay, regaining confidence takes time and you have no reason to rush yourself. i’m proud of you for putting in the effort to love yourself bb! anyway, hope you enjoy my lovely vigilante!

midoriya:

for being the type of person who pays attention to detail in almost every other aspect of his life, fashion really is not one of them. he’s not one to put an excessive amount of care into what he’s wearing. he’ll try to get his hair to do something. . . decent, but then he throws on a nice enough looking outfit and he’s out the door. he doesn’t always have enough brain function for that, considering it’s constantly running a mile per second with a million other things he has to do that day. so, it does take him a second to notice your change in wardrobe.

the first time you walk down to the common room in a pair of shorts cut a bit higher than your normal pair with a loose t-shirt, he notes out loud that you look really cute and comfortable before asking if you’re ready for your run together. doesn’t really think much about it after that.

it’s not untiil around the second or third time that he realizes this is something out of the ordinary for you, especially once you’ve put together an actual going out outfit that shows off more of your legs, arms, and chest. he’s red from his neck all the way up to his ears.

Holy crap they - they’re so hot - I mean, is that disrespectful to think of them? No, I don’t think so - M-Maybe, I shouldn’t say that out loud, I might sound super weird but, I’ve just never seen them like - they’re so cute, oh my gosh! Ah, right I’m supposed to be paying attention to them! C’mon Izuku get it together!

will then stutter out the most flustered and chopped up compliment you’ve ever heard from him so far. he’s never seen you in summer clothes before and he thinks you look so good, so he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

he literally adores your every breath no matter what you’re wearing, but, well he’d be a horrible liar if he said that your summer outfits weren’t some of his absolute favorites.

todoroki:

shoto is much more observant than people give him credit for, he’s just not as obvious about it as midoriya is. he’s a quiet people watcher, who will silently take in all of the little details about someone or something that has done enough to catch his interest. and you have certainly done more than enough to catch his interest since you are the one he loves.

from day one he has been tuned into every shifting detail of your presence. it’s just not hard for him to tell when something is different with you, especially something pertaining to you physical appearance. so, yes, he immediately notices when you’ve switched to wearing clothes that are more revealing and he will say with a straight face that it makes his knees weak.

the sight of you in summer clothes is never one he thought would knock the breath from his lungs so hard, but he loves every second of it and will not hesitate to shower you with compliments. he was already abundant in the praise of your beauty and personality, but just expect even more from him.

if he ever figures out the reason why you changed your style or if you tell him, he will let you know how happy he is that you are finally seeing what he has seen all along. breathtaking beauty with lips he would kiss breathless.

bakugou:

katsuki notices the second he sees you but won't let you know verbally that he loves your new summer look. his way of showing his appreciation is clear through his roaming fingers. literally cannot keep his hands to himself even if you’re in public, and he’s never been a fan of PDA other than the occasional hand-holding or arm around your waist.

it doesn’t matter how hot or humid the summer gets, expect at least one of his hands to be somewhere on you. resting on your exposed thigh while you sit with your legs slung across his lap in the common room. if you’re wearing a shorter cropped shirt while you’re out, his arm is around your waist and his fingers trail lightly, sometimes ticklish, absent patterns into your soft side. when he thinks no one is looking he’ll press a warm kiss to the top of your shoulder blade.

he knows what its about without you having to tell him and he truly is proud of you for being confident enough to show off whats yours because that means he gets to parade around with you at his side like a peacock with its feathers fanned out.

Hell yeah, this is my partner. Keep your fucking eyes off creeps, their too damn good for you anyway.

kaminari:

very much has to act like the cool guy when he notices your style change because he’s having a full freak out in his head, he just can’t let you know that. but will give you his usual cheeky compliment that you know is entirely genuine despite the mischievous twinkle in his eye and give you a quick wink for added effect. 

“But no really babe you look amazing. I’m digging the new look.”

He’s a complete giddy dork the entire time, walking around with a big dopey grin on his face because, hah my baby looks so amazing and the guys are gonna be s o jealous. can’t wait to brag to sero later.

he likely doesn’t know the reason you’ve gone out of your way to change your look for summer, other than the immense heat, but he does know that he’s super happy that you look super happy with what you’re wearing. and that’s all that really matters to him.

kirishima:

the only one who verbally announces his appreciation for your new look immediately after giving you his usual sweet greeting kiss and pulling back to admire you, taking you all in.

“You look even more amazing today baby! What the hell who gave you the right to be so cute all the time?” he’ll bring you in for another sweet kiss, then shower your whole face in light kisses.

kirishima has known that you get a little self-conscious sometimes, though you’ve never had to tell him this. he’s picked up on the same sort of nervous ticks he use to show when he was a bit younger and not as sure of himself, the ones that he, quite honestly, still has today. and he’ll let you know that he’s happy you’re beginning to feel more comfortable with not just yourself but around him and others as well.

he’s sort of the same way as bakugou. his hands roam a bit more, just because he wants to appreciate the newly exposed parts of you. not to mention, he’s just the slightest, tiniest bit more protective over you. and he wants to make sure others don’t get the wrong idea. you are his partner and his partner only.