#and then i never got round to actually answering. this has a tendency to happen

[batsplat]

i just remember something i meant to ask ages ago but why did Valentinos relationship with Honda end so bad like was he already wanting to switch bike for the 2004 season or was he happy to stay at Honda if things didn't go sideways. Cause I know why he left Yamaha for Ducati, i just haven't found definite sources and reasoning for his Honda to Yamaha switch. (also while i'm here I am going to start a vale career watch once I finish Marcs (upto 2019 atleast i dont think im ready for the honda dark years just yet so i'll make myself feel a little better by watching Vale who will also be joined by Dani, Jorge and Casey)) so excited to watch caseys 2007 season when I get to it, i'm Australian and i've always been aware of him i saw an advert of his on my train the other day so that was fun this ask got so sidetracked sorry, but i'm definalty going to go over your race rec tag but i'll probably just end up watching whole seasons cause i like having the context of things if something in a previous race is going to set up tension in later races.

okay, so this is MOSTLY covered in the sete post. which I understand is a bit long lol so I'll try and give the sparknotes version here. he was getting kinda miserable at honda! winning felt too routine... the way he frames it is that he didn't feel like honda particularly appreciated his efforts and thought it was mostly just their bike doing the trick, not the rider. he talks about it in this autobiography excerpt - he felt like nobody was really getting enthusiastic about his victories anymore, that it was just expected of him, and honda didn't really give a shit if it was him or someone else doing the winning. throw in the press who were also giving him a tough time in early 2003... it just wasn't fun anymore. valentino needs stimulation, he needs challenges, he wants to feel like he's part of a team and he wants to feel loved by that team (and love them in return). it's partly an ego thing and partly just... a question of passion. winning felt too easy and it felt like it had lost his meaning - like it was just a job

and y'know, yamaha did actively court them. which even valentino at the beginning was deeply sceptical of... even though he already felt dissatisfied with honda over the winter of 2002-03, switching to another manufacturer just felt like competitive suicide. he was also being courted by ducati - and even though it doesn't seem like he seriously considered that, until quite late in the season it looked like he might go any of three ways. iirc ducati was willing to throw a particularly obscene amount of money his way lol. but in the end, valentino felt that ducati would be much like honda in their disconnect from its riders and their refusal to listen to them (gosh, could someone not have read his own words back to him in 2010). yamaha was willing to build their whole team around him... and it was also just a special challenge. it'd be something new!! valentino isn't really built for easy domination I reckon, like he just has a trigger in his brain every 2-3 years that starts making him a bit restless idk

and yeah, I always think watching full seasons is well worth it!! there's some seasons that really live and die by the complete storylines, the sense of tension and build-up - especially the first half of 2003, 2004, 2006 and 2008 don't work anywhere near as well without context I reckon. and obviously I'm a massive casey fan... though I will warn you that for reasons entirely unrelated to casey, there is a massive drop-off in average race quality between 2006 and 2007 lol. I'm actually intending to go back over the winter break and fix up my casey race recs list because it was the first I did and quite casual when compared to the later ones - I thought I could do that one without consulting my notes, which in retrospect was a bit high on the hubris and I feel like I want to do that one justice. casey's actually already a really fun presence in 2006!! it doesn't show as much in the results because he'd often drop back or crash, but you see quite a lot of him - including the first few fights with valentino. he has a very pedro-like rookie season if you want a cheap and easy comparison... results are a bit worse on paper but the vibe is quite similar, including the spectacular early season form that trailed off for various reasons. but I do have a lot of fondness for 2007, even if it has some absolute howlers. qatar, mugello, catalunya, assen, donington and estoril the highlights as I recall. still wish we'd gotten casey/valentino with a continuation of the 2006 engine regs and just like. dogfights galore featuring those two... but on the plus side, I suppose laguna 2008 wouldn't have hit quite as hard if it hadn't been such a contrast to everything else happening during that time

[isfjmel-phleg]

Who is Amarantha?

Today, October 4, is my OC Amarantha's birthday.

Bio

Amarantha Margeth Melbray is the daughter of Levico (L. D.) Melbray, author of the popular Morrick Hopeley detective stories, and his wife Edmara, nurse to King Talfrin's son, Elystan. The nature of Edmara's job makes it difficult for her to be at home consistently, so Amarantha has been raised primarily by her father. She developed an interest in art at an early age and has been encouraged to cultivate this talent. Her greatest aspiration is to become a famous artist, specializing in portraiture, and she is given a chance to work toward that future when her mother's employer, Queen Bethira, grants her a scholarship to a distinguished girls' school for the arts.

Upon arriving at this school, however, Amarantha learns that her scholarship has been suddenly and unexpectedly revoked. With nowhere else to go while her father is on a lecture tour, she joins her mother at the palace, where she reencounters her old nemesis Elystan. Amarantha has for a long time been deeply jealous of the boy who monopolizes her mother's attention and affection, and their meeting doesn't go well--she ends up slapping him and incurs the wrath of his mother. That night, Amarantha's mother wakes her up and hurries them onto a train, but she vanishes before she can explain, and Amarantha wakes up in a remote moated castle, lost, confused, and trapped. But she's not alone--Elystan's there too! Can she find answers about what happened and find a way out? Is Elystan worth joining forces with in this adventure? Is there any hope for her scholarship now that she's offended the royal family?

Why I Love Her

This child is intense. Everything is Serious Business, especially art. She has one plan for her life, it's her glorious purpose, and she has no backup plans. At age twelve, she's already got Opinions about what portraiture should and shouldn't be. She's constantly struggling with reality's failure to live up to her grandiose expectations. She's trying so hard to win her mother's attention back (maybe if I accomplish something impressive enough, maybe if I'm accommodating enough, maybe if I'm responsible and undemanding enough...) but she feels as if she can never get more than crumbs, and she's deeply resentful beneath the compliance. She's a judgmental, jealous, petty jerk who thinks she knows and understands other people far more than she actually does--but also a naïve child who hasn't lost her sense of wonder and tendency to get caught up in fancifulness. She needs friends. She's going to get friends. She needs growth. She's going to get that too.

Description

Visitors to the Melbray parlor who encountered Amarantha seated silently on the sofa, her hands folded, typically received the impression that she was a quiet, mannerly child. It usually took a while before they noticed her peering at them with prominent brown eyes like an insect who had weighed them in the balance and found them wanting. The bow at the base of the brown braid wrapped around her head sprung from the back of her neck like a pair of wings. Her round face and small nose and mouth gave her an otherwise doll-like countenance, but nothing could soften the intensity of that gaze.

Further Info

There is a list of random OC facts for her here, newly revised and updated.

Appearances

Prequel scene for Book 2

Short dialogue between Amarantha and her father (before Book 2)

Revised Book 2 Chapter One

Early Morning Tea (set immediately after Book 2 Chapter One)

Revised Book 2 Chapter Two

Revised Book 2 Chapter Three

Revised Book 2 Chapter Four

Revised Book 2 Chapter Five

Revised Book 2 Chapter Six

Picnic in the Clock Tower (later in Book 2)

Tell Me Where You Live (sketch)

Speaking to a Housemaid (sometime in Book 3)

Portrait of the Monarch as a Young Woman (sometime in Book 4)

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 10

Hello! I do apologise for posting this a day late, my friend comes round most Fridays so I have a tendency to be distracted. Anyway, we're on Chapter 10, the finale of Part 1!! I never thought I would get this far (even though the story has barely started lol) so I just want to thank everyone who has supported so far, even if it is only through likes, I cherish every single one. Now unfortunately, I will be taking a small break before posting Part 2, but it won't be long - the latest I will post is approximately June 16th, if not before then! I will also be opening requests during my break, so keep an eye out for when I do, because I will be limiting spaces. Apart from that, I hope you love Chapter 10, and I will see you all soon! Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 2360

Warnings: Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Part 2 (Coming soon) >

PART 1: Chapter 10 -

DIE. But first, food.

Jentacular (Definition): Of or pertaining to a breakfast taken early in the morning, or just about anything related to breakfast.

It wasn’t long before we were sat down on some comically small chairs, much to Bilbo’s dismay as he watched us try to fit our legs under the low table, knees bending at odd angles.

“I do apologise for the arrangement; we don’t get many visitors from beyond the Shire.” He explained as he pattered through to the kitchen, setting the kettle back on the fireplace hob to reheat after our prolonged wake up. “Let alone those of yourrr….” He gestured up and down whilst trying to come up with a polite word.

“Height?” I suggested.

“Yes! Height. I can’t say I’ve seen much of your kind around here, besides the odd traveller passing along our borders.” He told us, before beginning to trail off. “Also that wizard with the fireworks…..”

“Gandalf?!” Kay spurted eagerly, suddenly attentive. It seemed the excitement was getting almost too much for the both of us.

Bilbo looked almost taken aback at Kay’s sudden change in demeanour, his hand hovering whilst grasping a tea towel as he stared, before returning to pick up the hissing kettle.

“Well—yes.” He replied, coming over to the table to fill up three cups with steaming tea. “I take it you know him?”

For a moment my eyes darted between him and Kay, my mouth open slightly as I came up with a convincing response.

“Well, no, not really. Sort of just..,” I rambled as I waved my hand around slightly, trying to think of a convincing answer.

“—He’s quite popular!” Kay interrupted. “Where we’re from, actually, most people we know, know of him.”

“I see.” Bilbo frowned slightly, turning back around to return the kettle and hang up the tea towel. “Well, I haven’t seen him round these parts in quite some time, but his fireworks I most definitely remember.” He mentioned fondly, his voice trailing away slightly as he entered what I figured was the pantry.

I hummed in agreement, picking up the cup of tea with my bandaged hand and testing the temperature. Before I could take a sip, though, a thought reached me, and I twisted in my chair to face Bilbo who was just exiting the pantry with the rest of the breakfast arrangement in his arms. I scrunched my face at the painful jab I got from my ribs, reminding myself to keep my injuries in mind, before going back to ask my question.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve just remembered, I.. don’t think we got your name?”

Kay subtly gave me a strange look, her eyes asking me what I was doing. I gave her a reassuring glance.

Bilbo froze, face looking as if I had just insulted his mother, but within a second, he had launched the arrangement he had brought through onto the bread board on the kitchen side.

“Terribly sorry!” He exclaimed, whipping back round. “My name is Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End!” He took a deep breath, brushing imaginary dust off his robe. “I do apologise, it seems last night has had a bit of an effect on my formalities.”

I gave him a smile. “Oh it’s alright, you taking us in last night was plenty enough. You… basically saved us, well what was left.” I half-joked, gesturing at the two of us. “So we sorta owe you our lives.” I explained with a light laugh, whilst Kay nodded in agreement.

“Oh—I—well, I only did what was necessary.” He replied bashfully, his ears now an even brighter red than before. He finally sat down, wrapping his own hands around his cup of tea. “Speaking of names..” He nodded his head between us with raised eyebrows.

“Oh! I’m Kay.” Kay placed her hand on her chest with a wide smile. Bilbo then looked at me expectantly.

“Kate.” I stated with a warm grin.

He leant back, satisfied, though I could see him mouthing the names to himself, seeming a little confused as he narrowed his eyes slightly in thought.

“I must say, I’ve never heard such names before. And they both sound awfully similar…” Bilbo’s brows furrowed even more as he switched between our faces. It seemed that he would have trouble telling our names apart.

“We can explain them to you later.” I waved it off in an attempt to reassure him through his confusion.

He quickly shook himself out of any prior perplexment, nodding before standing back up and finishing the breakfast preparation.

It wasn’t long before the table was covered from top to end, mouth-watering food piled up that reminded us almost of an English Breakfast. After spending almost three days without any proper food, we filled our stomachs with what we could, making sure to share our thanks with Bilbo, who now had permanent pink ears from the compliments, especially when we started to throw his home into the mix.

Swallowing the last of the remaining food on my plate, I felt myself begin to sweat slightly at the uncomfortable feeling my ribcage gave me. The agonising ache I had tried to deal with all morning seemed to worsen as the chewing, swallowing and uneven breathing unsettled everything. I decided to ask something that had been on my mind since I ran my hand over the crusty mud now solidified on my trousers, but also as a means to distract myself from the uncomfortableness, because right now it was all I could think about.

“I don’t suppose you know of any places we could get clothes, or materials for clothes?” I managed to gasp out. Kay eyed me, a slight bit of concern showing on her face as she watched my uncomfortable expression.

Luckily it seemed Bilbo hadn’t noticed, as he made sure to finish his toast before he answered. “Well, I doubt there’ll be anyone for quite a few miles who will be able to lend clothes that fit you straight away.” I sighed slightly, looking down at my dirty clothes. “But!” I looked back up as a lightbulb went off in his head. “Gladiola Greenfoot, just down the hill, has a knack for spinning together an outfit for any occasion, considering the constant growing of her seven kids. You’ll have to pay her, and go down to get measured as well, since I doubt she’s ever sewn for big folk.”

I gave Kay a weary look at the sound of payment.

“That’s the thing. I don’t think our currency works here, let alone whether or not we have enough.” I tried to explain.

Bilbo took in the sight of our sullen faces (though mine mostly wasn’t about the money) and sighed slightly as he racked his brain for a solution. But he knew Gladiola enough to know she wouldn’t go out of her way to make a new wardrobe for two strangers for free, considering she had several miniature mouths to feed. That was until he watched as a thought come to the mind of, what was it, ah, Kay? She straightened up slightly, her eyes darting around until she leaned forwards over the table.

“What if we… oh I’m not sure.” She murmured uneasily, before leaning back on her chair dejectedly.

“Nooo, what is it?”  I encouraged, me and Bilbo now with our full attention on her as we waited eagerly.

She looked between us, unsure about her idea. She toyed with the fork in her hand before speaking.

“I mean, it’s asking a bit too much, but we don’t really have anywhere to go for a while, and since we can’t pay in money, we could, you know…” she looked up at Bilbo nervously, “pay in work hours?”

“Like chores?” I asked almost excitedly, whilst watching Bilbo’s for any expressions that could give away his thought process.

“Yeah, like, we could work for free for a while in exchange for clothes. You know, labour for labour.” Kay explained with a shrug of her shoulders.

It was now Bilbo’s turn to stare at the table, his thumb rubbing at his bottom lip in thought.

“We could do chores for Mrs Greenfoot in exchange for her making clothes, and if it’s not too out there, we could do chores for you in exchange for staying here for a bit? You know, considering we have absolutely no idea where we are or where we need to go.” I offered, though unsure, thinking we may have asked too much too early.

Bilbo hummed as he continued to stare into space as he processed the possibilities.

“I know it’s so all of a sudden,” I tried to reassure. “But we’re only asking since we’re sorta desperate for a place to stay.” Kay nodded along as she kept an eye on the fact my eyes were now becoming droopy. I saw the worry on her face and blinked a few times to try and snap out of it.

Finally zoning back in, Bilbo looked between us.

“I suppose I could do with some help around the house.” He murmured to himself, causing us to straighten up in anticipation. We both glanced at each other anxiously and I felt my good leg bounce as much as it could in the small space it was given as we watched Bilbo tap away at the table with his fingers, whilst his face varied through different expressions. Finally, he looked up, startling slightly at the sight of us staring with wide expectant eyes as we waited. Though it wasn’t until my bouncing leg accidentally jolted the table that he found the words.

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t have the room, nor am I the busiest hobbit in Hobbiton.” He pondered. Then with a stern face, he pointed between us. “As long as you don’t cause any trouble—”

“—We’ll behave!!” I cut in almost immediately, my hands gripping the edge of the table as I felt my chest burn at the sudden motion. “We promise, we’re the least troublemaking people you’ll ever meet, Mr Baggins!”

His eyes darted across my scratched up face as I gave him the most convincing doe eyes that I could, my dark brown irises baring intently into his forest green ones. With a sigh, he seemed to relent from his doubts as he relaxed back in his chair.

“Alright then.” He breathed with a half wave of his hand.

Kay immediately cried out in relief, before resorting poor Bilbo to another round of compliments whilst stating her many thanks. I leant back in my chair with a huffed laugh, tilting my head towards the ceiling in an attempt to stretch out the tension that had begun to build up in my neck. Looking back down at the two sat in front of me, I slouched slightly in my chair as a wave of both relief and fatigue swept over me.

“You won’t regret this Mr Baggins.” I stated as a tired smile made its way onto my face. “We may have only met today, but we’re gonna be the best chore-doers you’ve ever seen.”

He barked out a slight laugh. “Well I don’t know about that! But I guess you have time to live up to that claim.”

The excitement soon began to calm down, and it wasn’t long before Bilbo was out of his seat and taking his plate and cutlery to the sink across the room. Kay soon pushed her own chair back, and I watched as she went to reach for her own plate, picking it up.

My eyes followed as she went to reach for her cutlery next, that was until she stumbled slightly as what seemed to be a wave of dizziness hit her. As quickly as I could, I stood up, snatching the plate out of her hand and haphazardly throwing it back down onto the table before using the same hand to grab her wrist in an attempt to stabilise her.

She looked up, blinking rapidly as she tried to focus her eyes on her surroundings as I eased her back onto her seat. “You still have that concussion, remember?” I explained, before letting out a sharp hiss as my hand flew to my side, taking the deepest breaths I could as I sat myself back down.

Bilbo whirled around from where he was across the room as soon as I spoke.

“Concussion!?” He exclaimed, almost panicked as he hurried over. He looked at me, quickly spotting my pained expression. “Ho—How injured are you two!?”

“Pretty badly.” I answered meekly. I watched as further horror crawled into Bilbo’s expression as I listed off what we had endured, though purposely failing to mention that the worst wasn’t exactly from the fall we had by his house.

“Wha—Well, why didn’t you say so earlier!?” He sputtered as he practically dragged us through the house to the parlour where he plopped us down on some very comfy looking armchairs. We both observed him as he began pattering about again, quickly washing up what he could before hurrying off to what we supposed was his bedroom. Within minutes he was marching back out again, though he was now dressed for the day. And I admitted that he certainly wore clothes that matched his societal status. He was dressed as if we had gone back in time to the olden days of the English countryside, embellished in a finely made cream tunic tucked into a set of forest green trousers held up with suspenders, and topped with an ornately embroidered golden waistcoat.

We craned our necks as our eyes followed him to the front door, where he hastily threw on a blue overcoat. Swinging the door open, he went to step outside, but hesitated. Twisting on his heel with his finger pointed upwards, he glanced at his with his mouth open slightly like he was in thought. His pointed finger then was aimed at us as he spoke.

“Wait here.” He ordered. “Help yourself to the leftover tea, but do not overdo it or move too much.”

And much like our first encounter with him this morning, he was outside in a flash, the ends of his coat billowing behind him as he swung the door shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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< Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Part 2 (Coming soon) >

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[mitsuributmexican]

Who You Belong To. Yandere Reno x Fem! Reader Smut.

CW/TW: fem reader, yandere tendencies, public sex, humiliation, begging, mentions of kidnapping, jealous and possessive Reno, hints at a round two if ykyk, Reno is kind of mean, fingering, one instance of spanking, I wrote this for my friend.

You couldn’t even tell how long it had been. Since he’d taken you. Every time you’d ask how long it had been, he’d simply dismiss it, asking you why you’re so concerned. In the time you had been with him, you’d slowly but surely gained more freedom. After what you believed to be a few months you no longer had to be tied up. And eventually you were given free roam of your new home.

Lately, Reno has been taking you to work with him. There had been some bad things happening around your area so Reno would rather have you with him so he could protect you. It was a win-win situation in his eyes. You got to be with your husband all day and be safe, and he got to show you off and be with you almost 24/7. Of course, going to work with him every day meant meeting Rude as inevitable. 

You two had often been alone with each other, and eventually formed a close friendship of the sort. Reno had never really noticed, so it didn’t bother him. Yet, that is. Rude had a tendency to flirt with you, playfully, that is. He did respect that you were in a relationship with Reno and did not want to intrude upon it. 

However, one unlucky day he had seen the two of you and your “flirting”. You had been walking down some stairs and Rude had held his hand out calling you “m’lady” and offering to help you down. You had giggled and taken his hand down the stairs, unaware of your husband seeing this from afar, boiling with anger. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more. Beat the shit out of Rude for touching what’s his. Or fuck his pretty little wife and her pretty cunt to let her know who she belongs to.

The latter was the most convenient right now. After Reno was off work and would have usually called you over to go home, he tracked you down and grabbed your arm with all his force, making you walk with him. “Oh hey Ren- hey what’s wrong?” you exclaimed. Reno didn’t answer, simply walking faster.  He kept walking until you reached an alley right outside Shinra Headquarters.

He pinned you against the wall, putting a hand behind your head to avoid injuring you. “Reno what the f-” before you could speak, Reno smashed his lips against yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. This went on until he felt you were out of breath, pulling away as a trail of saliva connected your lips. “Don’t play dumb, princess. I saw you with Rude today. Really think you can get away with flirting with someone else huh?” he hissed. “B-but we weren’t actually flirting we were just jok-” “Save it. You could’ve just stayed by my side and waited around for me like a good little wife, but you can’t do that apparently. If you can’t understand that you belong to me when I tell you, hopefully you’ll understand when I show you... and everyone fucking else.” Reno said.

His response confused you until you realized what he meant, feeling yourself get wet in the slightest. “Wait, you’re serious? But everyone will see.” you whimpered out. “And that’s the point dollface.” Reno whispered into your ear. Wanting to make this as quick as possible, you turn your back against Reno and press your hands against the wall. You hear something unzip and feel your panties being pulled down and your skirt being lifted up right after.

Your hopes of getting this over with quick are crushed when rather than feeling his cock enter your hole, you feel two fingers slide in. You hiss at the cold sensation and let out a breathy “fuck”. With his available hand, he smacks your ass harsh enough to leave a mark. “No swearing sweetheart~ just trying to get your hole ready, no need to be so impatient.” Reno stated. He sure took his sweet precious time prepping you. And you wanna know when he decided to finally thrust into you?

When everyone was getting let off work. As people start pouring out Shinra HQ, Reno’s thrusts get harder and faster, with you closing your eyes tighter and tighter and biting your lip even harder. With no warning whatsoever, Reno bit into your neck, making you yelp out. Your little yelp caught the attention of some people, making them turn your way. “Close your eyes all you want honey but that won’t make the people watching us go away.” he says after he had bitten into you just deep enough to leave a mark. 

As more people began to stare at you, you eventually hear giggles and people’s reactions to the sight in front of them. You eventually feel yourself being brought to your climax. “R-reno, I’m gonna cum!” you whimper out. “Oh really? Before that can happen, I need you to tell me something.” He says. “What is it?” you said with shaky breath. 

“I need you to tell me who you belong to.” he said. You gulped and took a deep breath in. “I-I belong to you Reno.” you said. “Louder. I can’t hear you darling~” Reno said into your ear, licking your earlobe right after and earning one of many whimpers from you. “I belong to you Reno.” you said, only a little louder. “One more time princess, I promise I’ll let you come if you say it louder.” Reno coos. Mustering up any and all dignity you had left you obeyed him.

“I belong to you Reno!” you basically shouted, earning even more stares. You heard a chuckle before Reno sped up even faster. “That’s my good little slut.” said Reno, as you felt your cum spill out. After what felt like the longest few minutes of you panting with your arms and legs shaking, Reno pulled your panties up and pulled your skirt back down, putting his cock back into his pants and zipping them up. “Now you’re gonna walk with me back home with my cum and yours dripping down your pretty thighs and act like nothing happened, got it?” Reno demanded. “Yes.” you said, nodding your head. 

Reno took hold of your hand and walked you out the alley, people who had seen the whole show barely containing their laughter. You looked down at the ground as you walked, your face beet red and tears threatening to spill out your eyes from embarrassment. He noticed this and made it known he knew. “Aww are you embarrassed? Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to get back at me for everything when we get home, okay?” he said, giving you a kiss on the spot he bit you. Both of you were in for a long night.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Same universe as the one where LXC kills JGY on a boat to not-Japan. JRS-centric as he grows up in the Nie clan and deals with his reputation as an inbred son of a traitorous bastard.

so I don't think I've ever written a fic in which LXC kills JGY on a boat, and definitely not one where JRS is a character? I mean, I've written a lot of fics, so possibly I did and I forgot, but I'm pretty sure about this one.

That being said, I don't think I've gotten any Jin Rusong prompts before so I'm reinterpreting this to be a prompt for a fic about JRS growing up in the Nie clan. Fic below!

ao3

-

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang reminded himself. Risk is proportionate with reward. Your spine should be made of steel, just as your saber is.

He licked his lips, thought of his brother who had loved him, and threw himself forward with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, gongzi!” he blubbered. “Can you help me? I’ve gotten completelylost, I don’t even know where to begin ��”

Xue Yang blinked at him, the lids of his eyes moving slowly like a reptile.

“Maybe you know where my san-ge is? Lianfeng-zun?”

The feeling of immediate threat lessened. It seemed he’d gambled right, and the rabid dog that was Xue Yang could still be controlled by reference to Jin Guangyao.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could just give me some guidance on where to find him,” Nie Huaisang said, lowering his voice confidentially. “I’d be sure to pay you back! If there’s anything you want –”

“Do you have any snacks?” Xue Yang asked.

Nie Huaisang, who had come prepared based on the rumors he’d painstakingly collected, produced some dragons’ beard candy.

“Not bad,” Xue Yang said. “Okay, sure.”

Nie Huaisang smiled, and even meant it.

-

“Hey, good-for-nothing,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang turned to look at his least favorite but nevertheless highly useful source of information in Lanling Jin. The fact that Xue Yang had no idea that he was functioning as such just made it more satisfactory. “You like kids, right?”

Nie Huaisang blinked. “Yes?” he hazarded, not so much because he actually did – he’d never had strong feelings about children one way or the other, though perhaps he was being presumptuous in thinking that the reference did not involve goats – but because that seemed to be the answer Xue Yang was looking for.

Xue Yang wrinkled his nose in distaste, though not, Nie Huaisang thought, at him.

“Theoretically,” he said, and he wouldn’t know ‘theoretical’ if it hit him in the face, “if there were, I don’t know, a whole bunch of them hanging around somewhere without parents, you’d be able to do something about that, right? Especially if they had a talent for cultivation?”

It took only a moment to piece together what must have happened to lead to such a question, given the ruthlessness of the cultivation world and of Jin Guangyao in particular, and Nie Huaisang marveled briefly at the idea that Xue Yang might draw a moral line in the sand over something. Presumably he felt some kinship to the children, being similarly utterly infantile, amoral, and fond of sweet things.

“Oh sure!” he said, playing up the brainless idiot who didn’t know to ask questions. “My sect is always recruiting, you know. We took some losses in the war and, well, I feel like adult cultivators aren’t really all that interestedin joining ever since I took over…”

“Because you’re a waste of space,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang pouted at him. “Whatever, the important thing is that you have space for kids. Orphans. Think, like, a whole orphanage getting shut down or whatever – anyway, not important. You’d take them back to Qinghe, right?”

“Oh, that would be so wonderful!” Nie Huaisang clapped. “That would suit everyone, wouldn’t it? They don’t have to worry about the children, and we get new disciples. I should tell san-ge – no, on second thought, he might be too busy –”

“Definitely too busy,” Xue Yang said quickly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to accomplish something yourself? You could casually show him that your numbers went up at the end of the month instead so he gives you the credit, without explaining that it’s kids making up the increase.”

“That’s a great idea! He’ll be much more impressed by that, I should definitely do that. Where is the orphanage?”

“…uh, in the forest. The back forest.”

You couldn’t come up with a better lie?

“You already brought them here?” Nie Huaisang asked, batting his eyelashes. “You’re so nice, Xue-xiong! I’ll go tell my second in command to go deal with it right away!”

-

It was in the fifth round of kids getting picked up – small cultivation clans being massacred and there was nothing Nie Huaisang could do about it, because there was either no evidence or else Jin Guangyao had come up with some motive to justify his actions and, inevitably, Lan Xichen would be there behind him, soothing over tempers and providing explanations because he believed him, every time – that something unusual happened.

“Sect Leader Nie,” one of his most trusted subordinates murmured into his ear. “There’s a problem.”

Nie Huaisang found a reason to leave the party early, a reason to go to the rendezvous point, and, once there, found the reason for the problem.

“Oh, hey there,” he said with a smile fixed onto his face by sheer force of willpower, crouching down to make himself seem less intimidating. Not that he was ever particularly intimidating, though given the rage coursing through his veins right now, he thought he might be able to pull it off if he tried. “What a lucky chance! It’s so funny, finding you here, Songsong. How are you?”

Jin Rusong wiped his eyes and looked tearily at him, recognized that the person asking was his Little Uncle Nie, and threw himself into Nie Huaisang’s arms with a howl.

This was pretty typical – Jin Rusong wasn’t much of a crier, but when he did he definitely took Nie Huaisang as his model, something all the other adults in the cultivation world had a tendency to give Nie Huaisang dirty looks over.

The only problem here, of course, was that Jin Rusong was dead.

Or, rather…he was supposed to be dead.

And if Jin Rusong was here – here, in the rendezvous point where Xue Yang put those of his prospective victims that happened to be a little too young for even him to stomach killing, at least without the personal grudge that had driven him to slaughter the Chang clan in its entirety – that meant only one thing.

Jin Guangyao had ordered his own son to be murdered.

Through demonic cultivation, no less, which was a pretty nasty way to go. There was a reason everyone implicitly countenanced Jiang Cheng’s vendetta against demonic cultivators no matter where they were, even when he ignored all territory lines and forgot to not ask for permission – the things a demonic cultivator gone bad could do were just so much worse than what anyone else could that they couldn’t risk any delay in dealing with the problem.

Well, shit, Nie Huaisang thought, even as he comforted Jin Rusong, petting the toddler’s back to try to get him to calm down. What do I do now?

-

“There has to be a reason,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “He’s not rabid. Songsong was his son!”

“Sect Leader Nie, we can’t find anything that might explain it.”

“Look harder. I don’t care how minor it is, I want to know everythingto do with Songsong. Every little detail – every person who saw him – every medical report, every compliment, every good grade –”

“He placed last in one of his classes,” one of his spies volunteered.

“What?”

“He placed last in one of his classes. About two months before his ‘assassination’, and shortly before his father started collecting evidence against the other sects that were in his way, which he later used to ‘prove’ that they had been involved in the alleged murder.”

“He wouldn’t kill his son for failing a class,” one of the others objected. “The kid’s barely more than a baby. What’s he expecting, genius from birth?”

“He’s a genius himself. Why not?”

“If everyone inherited everything directly from their parents, he’d be a whore.”

“He’d be a Jin. They’ve all got that nose, every one of them…”

“I heard he’s having the other Jin bastards killed. All of them, even the women…”

Something snapped in Nie Huaisang’s hands.

They all turned to look at him.

“Investigate Qin Su,” he said, looking down at the mess of wood and paper that had once been a fan. “Come to think of it, she has a Jin nose, too.”

-

“I don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want you to go, either,” Nie Huaisang said, feeling tired and also much more in sympathy with his poor older brother than he’d ever been while Nie Mingjue had been alive. “But you disobeyed me, and that means we don’t have a choice. You have to go.”

Nie Songsong looked down at the ground, his lip quivering. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You did,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have to own your decisions, Songsong. You can’t take them back once they’re done, no matter what the consequences. Not even if you feel bad, but definitely not because you feel bad for having to pay for what you did.”

“But…”

“No, Songsong. You cannot be in the Unclean Realm when – when he’s here.”

Nie Songsong hung his head.

“He’s not your father anymore,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know that, right?”

Nie Songsong nodded.

Nie Huaisang sighed and held out his hands, and his arms were full of a teary-eyed child a moment later.

“He loved you once,” Nie Huaisang murmured into his child’s hair. “I love you now. I wish I could give you more than that – I wish I could give you an answer, tell you why he didn’t love you enough to keep from doing what he did. But I can’t. All I can do…”

Is what I’m already doing.

“You’re enough, er-ge,” Nie Songsong whispered back. “You’re enough. I promise.”

-

“When will I get to go night-hunting?”

“You go night-hunting all the time,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “You’re a fraction my age, and already my height, my weight, yet you wield a saber like my brother was around to raise you properly. You’re ruining my reputation, you know; now no one will believe that my incompetence comes from how short I am…”

“Not night-hunting with the rest of the sect, er-ge,” Nie Songsong said, rolling his eyes. “With other juniors!”

“Not long now,” Nie Huaisang said, looking down at the paper beneath his hands. It was all finally coming together. “Not long now. Just give er-ge a little more time to finish taking care of matters for da-ge, and you’ll be able to go night-hunting with anyone you like.”

-

“Er-ge! Are you all right? You look so pale…”

“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang whispered. “Songsong – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry –”

“What happened? Are you injured?” Nie Songsong demanded, already starting to pat him over, looking for wounds. “Er-ge, what’s wrong –”

“Your mother’s dead.”

Nie Songsong’s hands stilled.

“I told her about your heritage,” Nie Huaisang said, his lips numb. He’d never tried to hide it from Nie Songsong, although he’d introduced the subject very gradually and only once he thought that he’d be able to handle the revelation. “About your father – your grandfather. What they did. I wanted her to be angry at him, to turn against him, to distract him…instead, she killed herself.”

“Er-ge…”

“I shouldn’t have told her. If I knew –”

“Er-ge.”

“I should have brought her in earlier – told her about you surviving – I kept her from you for years –”

“Er-ge!”

Nie Huaisang looked at the child he had raised as a little brother the way his older brother had raised him, a father in everything but name, and who he had the constant feeling of having failed.

He wondered, as he always did, whether his brother had felt the same about him.

“Er-ge, it’s all right,” his little brother, his adopted son, said, and took his hands in his. “It’s all right. You tried, remember? Time after time, you tried to talk to her, but every single time you concluded that she would’ve told her husband instead of trusting you. She would’ve ruined everything. If she did that, I’d be dead all over again, and you with me.”

That had been what Nie Huaisang had concluded. That was why he’d never told her.

But…

“She’s your mother.”

“And you’re my er-ge. As long as you don’t die on me, too, it’ll be all right. Okay? It’ll be all right. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He’d already done so much, caused so much chaos and strife, and yet this moment – this was the step too far.

This was the first time he realized that he wasn’t sure he believed that it would be worth it anymore.

But by now…what else was left to do? There were no ways out of the plan he’d made himself; he’d designed it that way on purpose, because he’d known that if there was a way out, that snake would find a way to slither through it. He just hadn’t thought that he would be the one looking for it.

It didn’t matter.

He had to keep going.

His older brother deserved it, even if the younger one didn’t.

-

“I represent the Nie sect,” the young man – just about their age, though shorter than either of them – said with a smile. He seemed kind, gentle and polite, easy-going, but Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui looked at each other, and then at Jin Ling, who just scowled. “Can I come in?”

“Were you even invited?” Jin Ling asked in bitten off words. He was still bitter about some of the things that had happened in the Guayin Temple a month before, and of all them the one he was most bitter about was his second uncle’s retreat into seclusion – they were all upset about that.

“But it’s a discussion conference,” the young man said, blinking in confusion. “We’re a Great Sect. Why wouldn’t we be invited?”

In the face of such profound ignorance, there really wasn’t very much they could say, and eventually Lan Sizhui stepped forward with a smile, welcoming the young man – Nie Songsong, he introduced himself – into the Cloud Recesses.

Everything seemed fine for a little while. Lan Sizhui was able to talk to the people in charge of arranging juniors into finding another place for Nie Songsong to stay, although it would be a little delayed – Nie Songsong assured them that there was no issue – and as recompense they even showed him, at his request, a few of the main landmarks.

And then they turned around and their guest had disappeared.

“I knew he was up to no good!” Jin Ling exclaimed.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Lan Sizhui told him.

“I’m with Jin Ling,” Lan Jingyi said. “He seemed so nice and understated – just like you know –”

“Don’t talk about my little uncle,” Jin Ling hissed at him. “I know it’s true, but just – don’t, okay?”

“We should find where he went,” Lan Sizhui decided.

It took them a while, but in the end they found him in the most unexpected place: in the rooms their sect leader had chosen for his seclusion, sitting on the bed with Lan Xichen’s head on his shoulder, sobbing as if his heart had been broken.

“What are you doing?” Lan Sizhui exclaimed, unnerved even out of his own habitual politeness.

“I came to greet my uncle,” Nie Songsong said, his manner just as gentle and polite as it had been from the beginning, although it was now evident that he was as stubborn as a rock and not easy-going at all.

“Your uncle?” Lan Jingyi gaped. “How can he be your uncle?”

“You’re Sect Leader Nie’s son!” Jin Ling accused.

“I’m Sect Leader Nie’s little brother by adoption,” Nie Songsong corrected. “It’s through my father that he’s my uncle – and you my cousin, I suppose.”

“Your – father?”

“Oh, yes. My birth name, you see,” Nie Songsong said, “was Jin Rusong.”

-

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself?” Lan Sizhui asked. “Given that everyone knows – well –”

Nie Songsong finished the character he was writing and put down his brush. “Wondering if you should let it be known that you were born with the surname Wen?”

Lan Sizhui jerked in surprise, then flushed. “How did you – that didn’t come out in Guanyin Temple.”

“No, I knew it before,” Nie Songsong said. “My er-ge is very clever, you know.”

“Yes, I suppose I do...why do you call him brother? Shouldn’t he be uncle, or – or –”

“Uncle is probably right,” Nie Songsong said. “But he raised me like a son, just as his brother did for him.”

Lan Sizhui looked down at his hands.

“Why did he publicly reveal your background, knowing that you were still around?” he asked again. “Everyone will know. Who your father was, all those terrible things he did, his relationship with your mother –”

“Why shouldn’t he? He did do all those things, and he did have that relationship with my mother.”

“But what about you? What about your reputation –”

“Are you planning on sweeping Wen Ruohan’s grave?”

Lan Sizhui stared at him.

“He’s your grandfather, isn’t he?” Nie Songsong looked calmly back at him. “Who he was, all those terrible things he did –”

“That’s nothing to do with me!”

“And the crimes of my father are nothing to do with me. My er-ge gave me his surname, just as Hanguang-jun gave you his, and for the same reason – to cut us off from the sins of our original family.”

“I suppose that’s true. But – no one knew about you, just as no one knew about me until I told them, and I only told them because they were my friends. Why’d you tell us? Aren’t you worried we’d tell more people?”

“Of course I am,” Nie Songsong said. “I hope you don’t, of course, but you would’ve found out regardless – second uncle wasn’t exactly subtle in his grief. And I had to tell him.”

“Why? To bring him out of seclusion?” Lan Sizhui hesitated. “Do you care so much for him?”

“Of course not. The last time I met him, I was a small child, and my father was just about to order me murdered; that’s not much of a basis to build a relationship. But having him lock himself away like that, as if he were in mourning…it hurt er-ge. And I won’t let anything hurt my er-ge. Anything, or anyone.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“I understand,” Lan Sizhui said.

“I’m glad you do,” Nie Songsong said, and then smiled. “I would’ve had to escalate to threats next, and I’m given to understand that I’m too short to really pull them off properly.”

Lan Sizhui snorted. “I think we’ve all learned that that’snot true.”

-

“Should we talk about this?” Jin Ling asked, arms crossed over his chest and glaring.

“What do you want to talk about?” Nie Songsong replied.

“How about the fact that your father tried to kill me?”

“Sure. Can we talk about the fact that you got all of his affection for years and years after he tried to kill me?”

Jin Ling blanched.

“I wonder if he would’ve gotten me a dog, too,” Nie Songsong mused. “I was too young for that when he ordered his demonic cultivator to feed me to fierce corpses and have my body ravaged until it was barely recognizable…but sure, let’s talk about how he tried to kill you.”

“I was talking about Sect Leader Nie!”

“Well, then, you should have been more specific. Sect Leader Nie’s my brother, not my father.”

“He’s a whole generation older than you!”

“My little uncle, then.”

Jin Ling flinched. “That’s worse. Go back to calling him your brother.”

Nie Songsong shrugged. “Would it help if we fought?”

“…what?”

“It makes me feel better, sometimes. Besides, I may be short, but I’m pretty good with the saber. I bet I could match your sword…maybe not your arrows. But I’ve always wanted to try.”

Jin Ling looked at him suspiciously for a long moment.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Sure. Why not?”

-

“I really hate that you’re kind of cool,” Lan Jingyi told him.

“I am so cool,” Nie Songsong said, and passed him another jar of wine. “Want to see my spring book collection?”

“…yes please.”

-

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Lan Xichen said to Nie Huaisang, who shrugged. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t trust me to help.”

“It’s only what I should have done,” Nie Huaisang said, not for the first time. He’d said it so often these past few days that it felt like a new refrain, an alternative to the old I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. He preferred the original. “I was his little uncle, remember? I held him on his first month party. How could I do any less?”

He did not say that Lan Xichen, who could be classified as Jin Rusong’s older uncle, had done much less, but from Lan Xichen’s expression, he’d taken it that way anyway.

“You never…” Lan Xichen hesitated. “Did you ever have any – concerns?”

“That he’d turn out an idiot? No. I figured he’d be in good company, with me.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, you meant whether I was worried that he’d grow up longing for his blood family over his adopted family and turn against me in favor of his real father?” Nie Huaisang asked mildly. “No, not really. The memory of your father ordering you to be mauled by fierce corpses and to make sure your face is destroyed so that there’s a reason to refuse to let your mother see the body, as it would only upset her, is a fairly effective panacea against things like that.”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, though he looked sick all over again at the reminder of how considerate Jin Guangyao could be when it came to those he thought of as people, and how monstrous he was towards those he didn’t. “No, just – your brother always took such a hard line against the Wen sect…”

“Because they were raised with the philosophy that they were superior to the rest of us and my brother purposefully made himself into the symbol of their fallibility, thereby making himself and all the rest of us the primary target for their traumatic realization that they’re just as weak and vulnerable as everyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “Our Nie sect cultivators were always especially targeted whenever we were captured – our survival rate as prisoners of war was less than half all the other sects, and it wasn’t just because we were usually more injured when we got caught. Even the civilians surnamed Wen would pull out knives and try to stab us in the back if they had half a chance! We were in a blood feud with them, er-ge. You don’t put down blood feuds just like that, not even if you want to. That’s not how it works.”

Lan Xichen nodded slowly, thoughtful.

“Anyway, Songsong is mine now,” Nie Huaisang said. “Just as Lan Sizhui is your brother’s, and Jin Ling Jiang Cheng’s. Can’t we all just agree to not care about the rest?”

“I suppose we have to,” Lan Xichen said, bowing his head. “Huaisang…did you ever think about what happens now? I mean – what should we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled humorlessly when Lan Xichen looked at him. “I’m not joking. I didn’t know what to do when I got Songsong for the first time, er-ge, and I don’t know what to do now, either. I just wanted to see justice done for my da-ge, and I did, and for the rest – I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” Lan Xichen said. “I don’t know, either.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang thought. Spine as steel as your saber.

“Would you like to come visit the Unclean Realm sometime?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “Perhaps we can figure out what we don’t know together. If you like.”

“…perhaps I will,” Lan Xichen said.

[andvys]

Longing (part 2)

Warnings: angst, Ellie is very mean in this one, self doubt, reader feeling worthless

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader, mentions of Dina x reader

A couple of weeks went by since the dance and you started to warm up a little to Ellie, you were still your usual self just a bit nicer. Ellie enjoyed this side of you, she thought about Jesse’s words, maybe there was a chance that you actually liked her at least Ellie hoped you did.

The weather got significantly colder. Ellie and Jesse were currently riding on their horses, through the snow. She noticed he was a little closed off today, not talking much, he seemed sad.

Once they got to the cabin they planned on taking a break in, they got off their horses and walked inside. Jesse checked if the place was safe. Making sure no one got inside.

Ellie sat down on the couch watching him curiously, trying to read him. She wondered if it had something to do with Dina, those two did have the tendency to break up only to get together again a few weeks later.

Jesse could feel Ellie’s eyes on him, sighing he sat down next to her.

“Dina broke up with me last week.” He said, looking down at his hands. Ellie wasn’t surprised at this.

“And you’ll get together again.” Ellie laughed. “You guys break up all the time, I give you guys two weeks until you’re back together.” She said patting his shoulder.

Jesse started shaking his head at that. “Yeah I don’t think so, she’s been spending time with (y/n) lately.”

“So? They’re best friends.” Ellie said, looking at him, confused as to why it was a problem that you and Dina were hanging out.

“Best friends who used to date.” Jesse said.

“Wait what? (Y/n) and Dina? I- wh- how?” Now she was even more confused, when did that happen? She never heard about that. Already feeling jealous without knowing the details.

“That was a long time ago. I mean they weren’t official or anything but yeah they were kinda dating I guess but that was before you came to Jackson.” Jesse said.

“And now you’re worried about (y/n) taking Dina away from you?” She hated to ask him this.

“We aren’t together anymore so she wouldn’t be taking her from me but I saw them together yesterday and she was hugging Dina and it looked like they kissed too.” That hurt. Ellie always dreaded the day you would meet someone and fall in love but why did it have to be Dina. Of course it had to be her, Dina was gorgeous and you’ve known each other forever. Of course you would choose her.

Ellie felt dumb, how could she ever consider that you could feel something for her, hating herself for believing Jesse when he told her that you probably had feelings for her, a few weeks ago. Clearly you didn’t and you were just waiting for the right moment to swoop Dina away. She hated you for making her feel this way, not that you were aware of her feelings but still. She was angry at you, why have you been this nice to her the past few weeks? She was hoping your change of behavior towards her was a sign that you liked her, she was so happy but now she was mad and angry.

“I’m sorry Ellie, I know you like her.” Jesse said getting up he walked towards the small window in the kitchen area, looking out.

Ellie looked down, thinking about this whole situation. She dreaded the next day already. You were paired for patrol together and at first she was excited for a whole day alone with you but now she was anything but excited.

The next day you were waiting for Ellie, standing outside in the cold by your horse, you were trying to warm your hands by rubbing them together. Finally seeing Ellie coming your way, you got on your horse waiting. She came up beside you with her own horse.

“Hey Williams.” You gave her a small smile.

“Hi.” She gave you a curd nod, looking away quickly.

Finding it a bit weird, she’d usually give you at least three sarcastic comments before you even got the chance to say anything. You tried to not think into it too much. She was probably just tired, it was pretty early.

After about an hour of patrolling, you heard the dreading noise of clicking behind one of the buildings you were riding by. You and Ellie gave each other a look, staying quiet you both got off your horses.

Quietly you walked towards the sound with Ellie right behind you, motioning her to stay quiet you counted the infected, there were about six of them. You could easily handle them.

“There’s six of them.” You whispered, looking back at her. “You take the ones on the side I’ll take the ones in the middle.” you ordered.

“Alright.” She gave you a nod before tip toeing closer to them to get a better shot. Not looking where she was going she accidentally kicked a glass bottle away, the sound alerting the clickers. “Ugh fuck.” Ellie grumbled, annoyed at herself.

Getting both of your guns out of your thigh holsters, you quickly shot two of the clickers that came too close to her, grabbing her arm you ran back trying to keep distance from those ugly things. Ellie shot one clicker with her rifle. Leaving three now, she put a few bullets into the other two, leaving the last one for you, she gave you a cocky smirk. Rolling your eyes at her you kept eye contact, shooting the last one without looking at it. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes making you smile.

“Nothing better than killing some infected in the morning.” Ellie snorted at that.

“Yeah right.”

Starting to walk back to your horses you rounded the corner of the building only to have a single runner attack you, catching you off guard. You fell down with it on top of you trying to keep it from biting you.

“(Y/n)!” Ellie screamed running towards you kicking the runner off you, shooting it a few times. “Oh my god, are you okay?!” She grabbed your hands pulling you up. Putting her hands on your face she studied you.

“I- yeah it didn’t get me.” Looking back at her, you noticed the worried look on her face.

“I’m fine Ellie, I’ve had worse, it just caught me off guard.” You reassured her.

“Alright let’s keep moving.” She said, taking her hands off your face, avoiding looking at you.

She got back to her horse, with you right behind her.

After a few hours you decided it was time for a break. You went into one of the safe houses, Ellie wrote your names into the journal.

Getting your backpack off, you sat down on the chair by the table, putting your head in your hands you sighed.

Ellie sat down opposite of you. “You okay?.”

Looking up at her you studied her face for a second “yeah just a little tired, didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh why’s that?”

“I stayed at Dina’s place.” Right. She didn’t even want to think about what you were doing. Ellie felt herself getting angry again, she decided to change the topic real quick before she’d say something she’d regret later on.

The rest of the patrol went by smoothly and you just got back to Jackson, both bringing your horses back to the stables.

“So what are you doing today?” You asked Ellie, walking out once you gave your horses off to the stable workers.

“Not much you?” Hoping your answer wasn’t going to be Dina related.

“Dinas coming over.” Of course.

Now she was really annoyed, she huffed rolling her eyes. You noticed that, confused about her reaction “is something wrong?” You asked.

“Nope everything is perfect.”

“Stop lying, I noticed the annoyed look on your face back at the house already when I mentioned Dina.”

Ellie stopped walking, looking at you.

“Jesse told me about you guys.”

Confused, you didn’t know what she was talking about.

“What do you mean?” You asked her.

She let out a laugh.

“He saw you and Dina kissing.” She said aggressively.

“I- what?!” Why did Jesse say that, you did not kiss her. He must’ve misunderstood something.

“I didn’t kiss Dina.”

“Yeah right, you think I believe you over Jesse?”

“What has gotten into you? Even if I did kiss her what’s it to you?” You were getting angry now, you were accused of something you didn’t do and even if you did why did she treat you like you did something horrible.

“Jesse is my best friend and he’s hurt cause Dina broke up with him probably because of you.” She started walking away.

“Oh my god, this is ridiculous.” This made her turn around looking at you.

“No you are ridiculous no wait- actually you’re a home wrecker that’s what you are. You were just waiting for them to break up didn’t you? Right when Jesse is out of the picture you go and swoop Dina away not even giving them a chance to figure things out.” She said angrily, this really wasn’t her. You have never seen her like that.

You couldn’t believe her, she didn’t even give you a chance to talk. Shaking your head you turned to leave not wanting to hear any of the crap she was throwing at you. Clearly she was in a bad mood and she decided to take it out on you.

“You’re just a distraction you know that right?!” Stopping at her words you turned around, even though there was nothing going on between you and Dina you still wanted to hear what she had to say to you, wanting to know what the girl thought of you.

“You’re a distraction and a replacement for Jesse just like you’re the replacement for me with Joel. Do you really think Dina would want you? Or that Joel had some sort of fatherly feelings for you? I was gone so he filled in the gap with you.” She threw these words at you without even considering the damage they would cause.

You looked at her with a hurt expression. Already feeling the sadness coming back up. But Ellie was far from done.

“No one wants you (y/n), no one fucking wants you and no one needs you. Do you really think that anyone would choose you if they could have anyone else but you?!” Ellie told herself to stop but she couldn’t, she was so angry at you even though you did nothing wrong. How could she tell you that no one wanted you when she was the one who wanted you the most.

You stood there taken aback by her. No one has ever hurt you like that just with words, not even your own father and you always thought he was horrible. No. This side of Ellie was horrible. What have you done to her to deserve this? You could feel your bottom lip trembling and your eyes were filled with tears, blinking them away.

“You-.” Not letting her hurt you more you interrupted her.

“Shut. Up. Literally shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I never kissed Dina there’s nothing going on between her and I. Even if I had feelings for her, which I don’t. I would never act on them, Jesse is my friend I would never get between them and hurt him. I’m not looking to replace anyone. Like you just said no one wants me so how I could I replace anyone in the first place?” You said, angrily wiping your tears away.

“How could you accuse Joel of replacing you with me when you were the one who abandoned him? You were like a daughter to him and you left him for whatever stupid reason you had. This man would’ve done anything for you and you just pushed him away from you. Do you really think anyone could replace you? Let alone me? Be a little bit more grateful for the people that care about you and start appreciating them before they get taken away from you and stop focusing on unimportant things Williams.” Not giving her a chance at saying anything you glanced at her one last time before walking away, leaving her standing there alone. Feeling the tears streaming down your face, you rushed home. Ellie really hurt you. You two have never been on good terms but she has never said anything this hurtful towards you, especially not like that.

Ellie watched you leave. Realizing all the things she just said to you, she ran a hand down her face sighing “fuck.” She wiped a single tear away. Regretting all the bullshit she just threw at you she knew she fucked up, real bad.

Once you got home, you shut the door, leaning against it you were breathing heavily, sliding down you started crying even harder.

Replaying Ellie’s words in your head, you were reminded of your father. How he always made it clear that you were unwanted, you were nothing but a burden to him, he left you damaged but having Joel and Dina helped you. They made you feel like you were important, like you deserved to be loved but Ellie just crushed all of that. She made you doubt yourself again, leaving you feeling worthless.

You know that if it was anyone else telling you this you’d tell them to go screw themselves but Ellie had a different effect on you, having her hurt you like this hurt you more than you wanted to admit. You didn’t expect this day to turn out this way. Thinking back to how excited you were in the morning to actually spend some time alone with Ellie you almost started laughing, knowing how Ellie actually felt about you hurt bad.

You could never look at her the same again, she made her hatred towards you pretty clear today. You two have never been close but you felt like it was getting a little better lately. How wrong you were. Where would you go from here?

[ironmandeficiency]

I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

[blitzturtles]

Title: Childhood (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up (Probably General?)

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: “Is that--?”

“Yeah,” Bruno breathes, running his fingers over the worn leather. There’s a picture carefully taped to the center with his family name burned into the leather underneath.

Notes: Had to get in a prompt for Bruno Week, so I went with 'Childhood'.

-

Bruno sits on the floor, surrounded by boxes of various shapes and sizes. Ever since moving into the mansion, he’s been slowly picking through his old things, trying to decide what is or isn’t worth keeping. It’s taken him a lot longer than he expected, considering his tendency to just throw things in storage and forget about them.

“What’cha doing?” Abbacchio asks from the doorway.

Bruno glances up from the pile of miscellaneous junk dumped out from the most recent box. “Thought I should finally… consolidate, I guess.”

Abbacchio hums as he steps into the room. “Need some help?”

“Probably,” Bruno admits with a sigh. “I just keep looking at it all, and…”

“Want to pack it back up and stick it back in storage?”

“You got me,” Bruno says, sheepish.

“You’ve been doing the same thing for years. It was bound to catch up to you-- is this Fugo’s--”

Before Abbacchio can finish, Bruno’s already snatched the stuffed strawberry back. “Shh. If he finds out I have this, he’ll burn it.”

Abbacchio snorts, “You’re a sentimental bastard.”

Bruno shrugs, but he doesn’t outright deny the accusation. They both know it’s true.

“Most of this is going to end up back in storage, you know,” Abbacchio toes through the pile in front of Bruno with his boot until something catches his eye. “Hey, what’s that?”

“What?” Bruno’s expression shifts from a scowl aimed at Abbacchio to confusion faced toward the pile of what looks to be mostly old clothes. It takes him a moment to spot the bound leather book, and it isn’t until he picks it up that he realizes what it is. He hasn’t seen it in so long, that he’s long since thought it lost.

“Is that--?”

“Yeah,” Bruno breathes, running his fingers over the worn leather. There’s a picture carefully taped to the center with his family name burned into the leather underneath. He can’t help staring at the photograph. The quality leaves something to be desired, but the people in the image look happy. What, with the man and woman pressed together with a small toddler held between them. The kid has bright blue eyes and a toothy grin, and he’s utterly indifferent to the way his hair is whipping in the wind.

“I bet you were a menace,” Abbacchio says as he moves to sit beside Bruno. He leans against him, bumping his shoulder lightly.

“You have no idea,” Bruno answers with a hint of a smile. He flips the book open and pulls a face when the first image that greets him is far less photogenic. Abbacchio bursts into laughter beside him after getting a look at the newborn version of his partner.

“You look pissed.”

“Is anyone happy to be born?”

“Probably not,” Abbacchio admits, but he busts up into another round of laughter as he gets another look at the picture.

Bruno reaches over to playfully shove him. “See if I let you look at the rest.”

“Alright, alright,” Abbacchio holds up his hands in surrender, “I’ll be good.”

“Liar.”

“Guilty,” Abbacchio shrugs.

Bruno rolls his eyes and turns the page. The next photograph is of his mother, holding him on her hip. She’s laughing with an expression more open than he actually remembers seeing on her face. It’s not hard to see why, considering the smear of blue icing across baby Bruno’s face. It’s clearly an image from his first birthday party, where he had apparently been allowed to try the cake. Or, perhaps more accurately, face-planted into it.

He expects Abbacchio to start laughing again. Instead, he finds the man staring intently at the image with a look of awe.

“Leone?”

“Sorry,” Abbacchio answers after a moment, “It just occurred to me that I’ve never seen any of these before, and I didn’t think I would.”

“Oh,” Bruno breathes. He hadn’t thought about that. Hell, he’d thought the book permanently lost to time, never to be seen again. Apparently, he had just packed it tightly among old clothes. Probably the best cushioning he could think up at the time. He can barely remember the last time he held the album in his hands. It used to hurt to even look at it. To know that so much of it contained pictures of his mother, but it’s easier now that he’s older. Now that he isn’t so bitter and hurt. It helps to know that his papa made it for him.

Abbacchio reaches out to squeeze his knee gently. “C’mon, show me more of those big, blue eyes that have us all suckered.”

Bruno huffs a laugh, “It’s not my fault you all are so easily done in.”

“You really don’t have enough appreciation for what it’s like to be on the other side of you,” Abbacchio answers with a fondness in his voice. He nudges Bruno again and nods toward the album.

The next few pages are full of photographs from various parts of Bruno’s toddler years. They’re mostly mundane, everyday type of photos, including the dreaded bathtub picture that Bruno can only roll his eyes at, while Abbacchio is beyond delighted.

And then the bob appears for the first time. Bruno’s all of five years-old and already fascinated with zippers when he cuts his own bangs. It’s a complete mess, one that his mother has to fix for him. Ultimately, his bangs end up shorter than he wanted, but the look obviously stuck for the most part.

“I can’t believe you’ve had a bob this long,” Abbacchio marvels, turning the album this way and that, as if it might give him more insight into whatever had been going on in little Bruno’s head.

Bruno shrugs, “I think it looks nice.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing that. I can’t imagine you any other way, but most people don’t stick with the same haircut they had at-- what, six?”

“Five.”

“Ha, yeah. Exactly,” Abbacchio shakes his head, but there’s a fond smile on his face as he hands the book back to Bruno.

The next picture, mercifully, sees Bruno’s hair at a better length. Properly cut this time, but definitely still in a bob. His bangs are parted down the middle, a look his mother insisted on, and one Bruno didn’t have enough of an opinion on at the time to argue against. It fits, in a way. It matches his age better.

He turns the page again to see himself holding up a fairly small fish, but there’s a grin on the little version of him that could have split his cheeks in two. He huffs an amused breath and flips to the next page.

“Wait,” Abbacchio catches the corner of the page that Bruno’s on and turns it backward. “What the hell happened to your teeth?” He asks, going back and forth between the two photographs. In the one with the fish, Bruno has all of his front teeth, top and bottom. In the next, he’s missing three on the top row and two more on the bottom. There can’t be more than a few months between the two pictures, and yet.

“Oh,” Bruno laughs, “I uh… didn’t listen to my papa when he said not to run on the docks. I took a fall into the water, but not before I kissed the peer.”

Abbacchio winces in sympathy. “That sounds awful.”

“It would have been, but I had just caught my biggest fish to date,” Bruno pauses to indicate the fish in the first photograph, “Of course, it got away when I fell in the water, but I was too excited to care.”

Abbacchio huffs, “That’s too fucking cute.”

“It wasn’t at the time, I assure you. I was covered in blood, and papa panicked.”

“I can imagine,” seeing the aftermath is impressive enough.

Bruno laughs softly as he looks back at the image. He can only imagine what his papa must have felt at the time. With his child soaked in blood and saltwater. Bruno must have been a mess at the time, but he can remember how the grin never wavered from his face. Not while being cleaned up, and not while being scolded (either time, by either parent).

“Shit, Bruno, are you okay?” Abbacchio asks beside him, abruptly pulling him from his thoughts.

Bruno blinks in confusion, then again as he notices his vision has blurred. It takes a third time for him to realize that tears have built in his eyes, and he laughs again as he wipes them away. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can-- we don’t have to keep looking,” Abbacchio reaches out with his thumb to gently swipe under each of Bruno’s eyes.

“No, no, it’s fine. Really,” Bruno offers him a somewhat shaky smile. “They’re good memories. It’s just been awhile.”

“Yeah,” Abbacchio’s voice is quiet, a near whisper. “I’m sure they are.”

Despite his own protests, Bruno closes the album with a gentle snap as the pages come together. “Maybe I should make one of these,” he muses without looking down at the book in his hands.

“That would be a good idea,” Abbacchio pauses, “But leave me out of it.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be the star.”

“I hate you.”

“Do you?”

“If only,” Abbacchio says with a put-upon sigh that only gets another peel of laughter out of Bruno. Chuckles quickly turn into giggles as Bruno catches a glimpse of the exaggerated look on Abbacchio’s face, and he laughs until he’s crying for a whole different reason.

“Alright, alright,” Abbacchio interrupts, but he can’t fight his own smile. “Let’s clean this up and go take awful, humiliating pictures of your hoard of children.”

[itsclydebitches]

I ask you because you’re good at articulating your thoughts but why do you like BB? I just wanna know the hype behind this ship, I’ve seen people outside the fandom either say they’re waiting for it to be canon to get into the show or they claim it’s the only good thing about it.

Hey, anon! Ah, getting a lovely compliment about articulating thoughts while I sit here struggling to articulate my thoughts lol.

Okay, I want to start by saying that I personally like Yang/Blake about as much as the majority of the ships I have. Meaning, the 95% of fictional characters I enjoy seeing as a canonical couple and/or imagining as a potential couple, excluding the 5% that I get really, really into. I've got OTPs and I've got casual ships. BB is the latter. Why is this important? Because I think BB has been under an extreme amount of pressure over the years, with that pressure only increasing as time goes on and that... kinda sucks. They represent the growing demand for explicitly queer relationships. They're tied to a webseries and a fandom rather infamous at this point for its heated, controversial content. They're a part of an era where fans are more focused than ever on canonical status, whereas back in the day you just enjoyed ships for the hell of it, regardless of their chances of getting together on screen. It used to be that people unironically adored ships for characters who had never exchanged a single greeting. Nowadays, you need a ten page essay explaining why the ship is supposedly The Best. Blake/Yang is bound up in all of that, resulting in a community that, yeah, hypes things up to an arguably unnecessary degree. We've reached a point where this couple supposedly makes or breaks the entire show; it's either the greatest ship to every grace the small screen, or it's the ruin of the entire franchise. In reality, Blake/Yang is just... a ship. Like any other ship. Some people like it. Some people don't. It should be far more casual than it is. Which isn't to say fans aren't justified in being invested in the politics of the queer relationship — I am — or even just emotionally invested in a ship they really enjoy, but rather that I think the hype is due more to these external factors than the relationship itself. Blake and Yang arguably aren't unique in what makes them an attractive couple. Are they important in terms of that representation for an American webseries? Yes. Are they exceptional in regards to these two character types being shipped by a fandom? Not by a longshot. I could give you hundreds of ships that look just like Blake and Yang.

And that for me is part of the appeal. I like many of the same sorts of things in my ships. One of those is the "opposites attract" setup, where we have the brash party girl coupled with the quieter bookworm. They balance each other in a number of significant ways, from fighting styles to their backgrounds. And, for fic purposes, that balance can also provide great conflict for them to work through, resulting in a stronger couple down the line. Going off of that, I enjoy that they're already partners at the (near) start of the show. The different definitions of "partner" is always fun, but beyond that — and despite the before mentioned shipping of characters who have never interacted — there's a tendency to pair of the duos who have already been paired up by the story. There's a sense of inevitability about it (fate, perhaps?) alongside the practical benefit of them getting a lot of screen time together. There's a reason why Blake/Yang and Ruby/Weiss got popular, with the former arguably surpassing the latter only because of its likelihood of becoming canon. We reached a point where the show is actively pushing Blake/Yang in a way they never did Ruby/Weiss — their coding is far stronger — and that creates a snowball effect: popular ships keep getting more popular the more attention they're paid; you pay the popular stuff more attention. Round and round we go. But I also enjoy their awkward flirting and tender moments, no matter how many problems might be attached to those in the story's context. I like how they tease and push one another — even if, again, the story has largely failed in that regard. They have a lot of good potential, shall we say, which is all a fan ever needs. Whether you're analyzing one of their clearly coded moments, or just running with the balanced color scheme — Yang has purple eyes with Blake wearing purple, Blake has yellow eyes with Yang wearing yellow — there's a lot in the show to connect them together, making the already easy job of shipping even easier.

Blake/Yang is a solid ship. They just also happen to be a ship bearing most of the weight of their show. I've made the comparison before, but it's not unlike Dean/Cas becoming the cornerstone of Supernatural. You reach a point where the story itself is such a mess that the most popular pairing becomes the supposed answer to all these problems: it's either the saving grace, or the reason for the show's destruction. It'll either save RWBY or function as the explanation for its downfall. Yang/Blake is heading more and more in that direction, either built up or torn down to an extreme degree as it tries to bear that weight. But honestly? I don't think it's any better or worse than those hundred other ships I could toss out. Ignoring the f/f rep, they're a pretty classic setup, a dime a dozen, and the important takeaway is that there's nothing wrong with that. There's a reason pairings like Blake/Yang got popular in the first place. Saying "I've seen it before" isn't a bad thing because fans like familiarity. But it simultaneously means they're not the best thing since sliced bread. They're neither the devil nor the angel the RWBY community has made them out to be.

So basically, my own casual enjoyment aside, I don't think the external factors propelling the love/hatred for the ship means the ship itself is actually that astounding or horrific. In a better written show, a less controversial show, setting aside those fans who have Yang/Blake as their first OTP and are pouring all that intense love into it, etc. I think the ship would still be popular... but we wouldn't be in this "it's the only good thing about the show"/"this was the show's downfall" territory. Pretty much every large fandom is going to develop that one, popular ship — just look at how fast Loki/Mobius happened — which shows that Blake/Yang is not unique in regards to getting the majority of a community's attention. It's just that other shows are solid enough to let ships be ships, without expecting any one ship to prove the show's worth. Or herald its downfall.

[hutchhitched]

What You Deserve, What You Need, What You Want

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 109: Dialogue prompt: “I deserve better than this!” [submitted by @xerxia31]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the seventh of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Better get myself in gear to finish the last two before the next round starts!

  “I deserve better than this!”

 Katniss nods and pats her sister on the back. “You do, and you should say it.”

 “I just did. You clearly weren’t listening.”

 Prim grins at her sister, and they continue scrubbing the walls of the house Prim and her husband just purchased. Katniss really can’t believe her little sister is married, especially at the young age of 22, but Prim has always been the one who’s gotten what she wants while Katniss…

 Well, if anyone deserves better than this, Katniss thinks it might be her.

 “When’s your husband getting here? I thought he wasn’t going to make us do all the work. That’s clearly not the case as evidenced by my arm that’s about to fall off.”

 Letting her limb drop, Katniss sits down heavily on the hardwood floor. It’s stripped and rough, ready for a good sanding and polish to make it glow like new. Right now, though, it’s rather anemic looking with blonde wood that seems old and faded. Or maybe that’s just how Katniss feels about herself. Old and faded, always in the shadow of her baby sister who everyone’s continuously adored and coddled.

 It’s not that Prim’s ever taken advantage of it either. She’s as sweet and kind and generous as they come. It’s just the phenomenon that things have a tendency of working out for the younger Everdeen sibling that Katniss would envy if she didn’t love her sister so much. Still, she’s tired—drained from working hard and scraping by, exhausted from the mental toll of keeping everything together for so long when she shouldn’t have had to, and weary from hoping and wishing and being disappointed repeatedly. It sucks, and it’s not fair, but that’s reality for Katniss and Prim Everdeen.

 Except Prim isn’t an Everdeen anymore. She’s married now with her husband’s name, and Katniss is the lonely older sister who hasn’t dated anyone for the past six years. If she sees one more person look at her with pity, she might have to scream.

 “Ah, there’s my gorgeous husband now,” Prim says, her face beaming at the sight of her man. “Hey, honey. Missed you.”

 “Missed you, too,” comes the reply, and Katniss cringes as she climbs to her feet. It’s not her ex-boyfriend, but it’s close enough. Rory Hawthorne is the spitting image of his handsome older brother who happens to be the last man Katniss let get her naked. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since she’s gone to bed with someone. She’s hurtling headlong into her sexual prime, and nothing. Not a potential to be found.

 “Well, if it isn’t Catnip Everdeen! As I live and breathe.”

 Katniss turns slowly to see Gale Hawthorne standing in the door, framed by sunlight and looking like a moody Greek god. Her body betrays her, and she can feel her reaction course through her veins. She forces herself to play nice and nods in his direction.

 “Oh, come on,” he teases. “I can’t get a hug and a kiss from an old flame and my current sister-in-law? We’re family now. Where’s the love?”

 Katniss stands woodenly as Gale embraces her and kisses her on the cheek. It’s awkward as hell, but Gale’s never been able to read the room well when he’s already made up his mind. She tenses as a ruckus sounds outside, and it’s not long before a handful of men pour into the house. They’re all tall and varying stages of broad, and every one of them is dressed as some version of a cool-kid-construction-worker.

 “What are you? Part of a new boy band? Performing covers for the Village People?”

 Rory steps between them. “Hey! Truce. This is my house, and you’re upsetting my wife. Knock it off.”

 All the men hoot and holler, catcalling Gale and, by extension, her except for one who slinks along the outside of the room. He seems embarrassed by the toxic masculinity, and he brushes his hair off his forehead in a riot of ashy blonde curls. Katniss likes him immediately.

 “And I deserve that,” Katniss says in a stage whisper to her sister as she nods her head. “Who’s he, and why haven’t I been introduced?”

 Prim calls to the room. “Calm yourselves, boys. Meet my sister, Katniss. Katniss, these are the guys. You know Gale, and these three are Thom and Darius and Rye. The one over there is Rye’s brother Peeta. He’s the well-behaved one. Maybe you can help him today. You don’t deserve any of these other guys. They’ll only make you question your life choices and swear off men for good.”

 Katniss waves at them all, showing her annoyance at their behavior in her tight smile. Giving each of them a wide berth, she crosses the room and approaches Peeta. “Nice to meet you,” she says, and he flashes her a smile that, in tandem with his cerulean blue eyes, makes her knees weak. Oh yes, she definitely deserves better, and he just might be it.

 “Nice to meet you, too, Katniss,” he answers in a voice that makes her want to strip down and let him have his way with her. His voice isn’t just sexy; it’s absolutely scandalous.

 She swallows her arousal and asks as casually as she can, “You need any help? I hear you’re the only one here who won’t sexualize me.”

 He chuckles, and she contemplates selling her soul to the devil for a shot with him. She’s never been attracted to someone this intensely in such a short amount of time. It’s actually quite unnerving for someone like her who’s fairly shy and quiet and aloof.

 “Well, I can’t promise I won’t fall for you by the end of the day, but I’ll do my best.” When he winks at her, she vows to make it happen. She has no idea how, but she’s got a few hours to figure it out.

 They spend the afternoon together sanding and painting. If she brushes against him multiple times, he doesn’t seem to mind. When he brackets her in his arms as she holds a section of drywall, she leans back against him. His chest is hard behind her, and she breathes in his scent. He’s a glorious combination of clean sweat and cinnamon from what must be his aftershave. He laughs at her jokes and entertains her with stories of his own. She’s never been great at making friends, but it’s so easy with him. At one point, she catches Prim’s eye as the afternoon slides into evening, and her sister winks at her.

 As the sun sets, things wind down. One by one, Rory and Prim’s friends say goodbye and make their respective exits. Gale seems to want to linger, but Rory and Prim remind him they’re spending the night at his place and insist they need showers before they treat him to dinner. He’s not very happy about it, but her ex-boyfriend leaves after giving her a suspicious look that makes her want to stick out her tongue at him. Katniss promises to lock the door behind her when she leaves, and then she and Peeta are alone with the house quiet around them. There’s a sudden strain between them that makes her squirm. After the ease of the day, the isolation is a little awkward, so she figures she might as well ease the tension with a lame joke.

 “Well, now that we’re alone…” Peeta chuckles and gives her a lopsided grin. She worries her knees will give out as the power of it hits her, so she leans heavily against the newly spackled section of the wall.

 “I had a really nice time working with you. When Rory asked me to help today, I didn’t think—” He breaks off and ducks his head as his face and neck redden.

 Laughing at his bashfulness, she asks, “You didn’t think what? You’re awfully cute with pink cheeks, by the way, so you might as well go ahead and tell me.”

 “I didn’t think I’d be matched up with someone so pretty.” She ducks her head, not used to flattery. “I just had a really, really good day. I was due for one or two of those. Really needed it.”

 “Well, I’m glad I could give you what you needed.”

 The air’s charged with electricity, and she raises her eyes to look at him. His are hooded, pupils dilated, as he stares at her. She has the sudden realization that she’s alone with someone she barely knows, and he’s looking at her like she’s a snack for him to devour.

 “I wonder,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I wonder if you could.”

 “If I could what?”

 This isn’t supposed to happen to her. She’s never been this lucky in anything and definitely not this fortunate in relationships. Yet, somehow, he’s here with her and seems to want what she’s just realizing might be possible. He walks toward her slowly, licking his lips as he does, and stops so close that she can feel his body heat.

 “If you could give me what I really need.”

 Her throat’s dry, and she gives a tiny squeak when she tries to speak. He lifts his hand to brush away the stray tendrils of hair that escaped from her braid as they worked. His fingertips sweep lightly across her cheek, and his thumb strokes along her bottom lip. She wants to suck on it.

 “I thought you promised not to fall for me.”

 “Oh, no,” he argued. “In fact, I think I promised exactly the opposite—that I couldn’t promise not to. Now, the question remains. Can you?”

 “Give you what you really need?”

 “And will you?”

 “I’d like to try,” she whispers. “I really would.”

 “I think you’re the type that really tries.” His voice is husky and deep, and she shivers when his breath ghosts across her neck. “In fact, I think you’re the kind of woman who believes in trying multiple times until she’s sure everyone is perfectly satisfied. Am I right?”

 Katniss squeaks again, unable to answer right away. He strokes her arm slowly, brushing up and down and grazing the side of her breast. She’s positive he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

 “Satisfaction’s the goal,” she finally croaks.

 He crushes into her then, his body full and tight against hers as he pushes her into the wall and kisses her like a man possessed. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect. His tongue sweeps along hers, massages and plundering so deeply she can only gasp and respond in kind. He’s everywhere—his scent, his arms and hands and chest, his soft moans catching in the back of his throat, heat leaching from his skin. It’s too much and not nearly enough. It’s overwhelming, but she wants every speck of it.

 There’s an old couch in the back room, and Peeta lifts her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carries her to it. He lays her out on it without breaking the kiss and settles in between her legs. Bucking upward, she whimpers at the friction. He’s solid and heavy, and she basks in the weight. Anxiety bleeds from her, and she sighs into the kiss.

 “Katniss,” he whispers, her word a sermon of longing and awe.

 “I don’t ever do this,” she answers, her eyes closed and breath uneven. When he makes a move to pull back, she threads her fingers through his hair. “No, don’t stop.”

 Peeta grunts in response and sucks the spot at the hinge of her jaw. His hands are all over her. Long fingers, massive palms, and blunt fingernails that knead, warming her skin and pushing her closer to the edge. He rucks up her shirt, and she shivers as he slides down her body and laves at the skin there. When his hand runs up the bare skin of her inner thigh, she moans lustily and considers begging him for more.

 “Take this off,” he requests, his tone polite and gentle, but there’s an underlying authority that makes her want to obey. He helps her to upright and watches as she tugs her tank top over her head. When’s she free, he caresses her torso before reaching behind her to unlatch her bra. Squirming under his scrutiny, she’s vulnerable, but he takes care as he fiddles with her waistband and then shoves her shorts down her legs. She’s left with nothing but a scrap of peach silk between her legs. “You have no idea the effect you have, do you? No clue how crazy you drove me all day today in your little bitty clothes. Are you a tease, Katniss, or are you that unaware how beautiful you are?”

 “I’m not—”

 “You are, and tonight you get what you deserve. What you need. What you want so much you don’t even know how to say it, but I know because I want it, too.”

 His hand is between her legs, his fingers brushing aside the fabric, his thumb pressing on her clit, his palm cupping her heat. She can’t think, and that’s exactly what she wants. She deserves to feel good; she needs someone to help with that, and she wants it to be him.

 “Please.” The word echoes in the air between them, shimmering with longing.

 His face is between her legs, buried in her pussy, licking and sucking at her swollen lips. She twists under him, desperate to get away at the same time she wants to grind into his mouth and let him make her break. She cries out, overwhelmed at how quickly she’s wet. Her shins are on his shoulders, her legs bent so he can lick deeper into her, and she can’t do anything but enjoy it. She’s helpless to resist him, not that she’d want to try.

 She doesn’t. He’s too good at it. His mouth is fire, devouring her like it’s his only job—to be put on earth and eat her out. Not only doesn’t she last, it’s shockingly fast. When he curls his tongue into her and then sucks her clit so hard she sees stars, she arches and allows warm honey to ooze through her. Thrashing under him, she doesn’t try to stay quiet or still. There’s no way when he’s so good at this anyway. When she melts into the cushions, he sits up and grins at her with a wet chin and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 “These panties are completely ruined,” he murmurs and tears them in two. When she groans, he pulls them free and trails them over her heated skin. “You feel that? Sopping wet. That’s all you, sweetheart. All of that wetness is you telling me how good I make you feel. I bet we can both keep going, though. Don’t you think?”

 She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nods and then watches in appreciation as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it over his shoulders. Miles of smooth, honeyed pink skin is bared for her, and she licks her lips eagerly. He stands and unbuckles his belt, putting on a show for her. Cheeky and a tiny bit cocky, he shifts his hips until he springs free. He’s hard and long and thick and ready, and she wants it.

 “Flip over,” he says. “Get up on your hands and knees.”

 She does, quivering in anticipation and hisses when he spreads her cheeks and rubs his cock against her. It’s torture not being able to see him, but she can hear the tear of a foil packet before he’s pressing against her, his blunt head probing her entrance. Impatient, she rears back, but he holds her hips firmly, easing into her and stretching her around him.

 “Such a tight little pussy,” he grunts. “Perfect, and so fucking wet. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me everything. Let me give it to you. Take what you deserve.”

 She wails his name. She needs him inside, and he has to move. He has to. She’s going to die if he doesn’t. She’s never been good at dirty talk, but he pushes a button that lets it pour forth. Her requests are filthy, lewd, and debased, but he fulfills every single request.

 She can’t remember the last time someone fucked her quite like this, but that’s what this is. He’s in charge, and she’s merely along for the ride. He thrusts upward and lifts her knees off the couch with every stroke. Scrambling for purchase, she clings to the back of the couch. It’s rough and dirty and quick, and she screams when he reaches around and rubs her clit furiously. Her arms give, and he holds her aloft as he slams into her repeatedly.

 She crests another wave when he finally comes, pouring into the condom while her walls grip and flutter around him. They fall into a tangled heap with him slumped over her. Sweaty and panting for breath, she can’t move. He’s still inside her, hot and spent but not quite soft. She never wants him to move again.

 “You never do this, huh?” he finally groans. “You sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

 Katniss giggles, the action so unfamiliar that it startles her for a minute. But then she’s laughing, filled with mirth and relief and something that seems a little bit like hope. He joins her, his baritone melding with her treble tone to form a glorious harmony. Finally, she regains control and shifts her head so she can kiss his forehead gently.

 “You’re right, and you should say it.”

 “Can I get your number? I’d kinda like to see if you know how to date. I bet you’d be really good at that, too.”

 Katniss grins and sighs with happiness. “I can give you my number, but you don’t need it to ask me on a date. Just do it. I’ll say yes.”

 Peeta grins lazily and strokes her back. He trails his lips across her cheek to her mouth and kisses her softly. “Will you go out with me?”

 “Yes,” she answers firmly. “Is tonight too soon?”

 “Tonight can’t get here soon enough.”

[janiedean]

I feel bad for all the nice J*nsa shippers who like their ship for whatever reasons (tropes, pretty art, aesthetic appeal, whatever) and know it's not canon but get associated with the misogynistic Dany hating crowd who act like Jon being attracted to Ygritte is J*nsa foreshadowing because red hair (I guess Jon should fuck Edmure Tully too? Omg give me Dark!Jon getting revenge on Catelyn by seducing her brother!) Tell me something. I'm new to the fandom but was J*nsa popular before the show? And I've heard something about the OG J*nsa shippers being alienated by the new shippers who insisted it had to be canon and acted like the series is called, "A song of J*nsa #danysux." I don't find that hard to believe because I know people who are now ashamed of calling themselves J*nsa shippers. Like, at this point, it's not only rival shippers who hate it. Even Gendrya/Braime/Jon stans/etc have started disliking that ship. You know your fandom is a problem when people who have nothing to do with Jnsa have a problem with it.

me: reads this ask

me: iwastheregandalf.gif which I can't find now but

okay anon buckle up because I am sadly well-equipped to answer this ask but before I do lemme tell you dark jon seducing edmure to take revenge on cat is LITERALLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD but *clears throat* ALL RIGHT THEN.

disclaimer: as anon says I have no issue with like the shippers mentioned by anon in the beginning and ngl I agree, I have ABSOLUTELY ZERO FUCKING STAKES in the j*nsa vs j*nerys war and the only het jon ship I gaf about is jon/ygritte and we all know where that ended up I just... have been here since 2011/adwd was over and all the fic around was just for the books under secret lj communities and asoiaf qualified for yuletide and I have... seen... things.... and I actually have like uh had... beef... with some people in there and I know things bc ppl who hated those others told me stuff so anyway *sigh* buckle up anon I'mma tell you the story of jon shipwars through the years

in order, the old gods help me here, under the cut bc this is long as fuck

when I got into fandom also given what numbers were on ao3 one ship was popular and it was sansan. no like sansan was lit. the only asoiaf ship on ao3 with more than 200 fics. jb had twenty when i checked first. jc had like around 100-ish because of the show but sansan dwarfed anything. I posted the first jon/ygritte fic on the ao3 tag and the fourth throbb fic and like the others were all reposts from lj kinkmemes. nothing was popular before the show except for sansan when it comes to huge numbers bc grrm doesn't like fic and it was all hush hush until the show made it impossible to control and that ship was the one with a huge enough fanbase it actually had numbers, so like... j*nsa wasn't popular in the way nothing else was popular until it got screentime on the show

now, that stated, j*nsa had a... fair amount of fic for a rareship which was mostly book-based and from og shippers that were there from before the show and liked it for what it was but literally none of them thought it was gonna be canon, like it wasn't huge or anything but it had a small but dedicated fanbase who did their own thing and thought it was fun/liked the idea but that was it

that fandom had their own niche of hcs that they cultivated and shit except that like... at the end of S5/beginning of S6 there was a surge in shipping for... well obvious reasons bc it was obv sansa was getting to the wall and that would have been all nice and good but a) it was the time puritanical shipping was starting to take root and the 'shipping sansa with sandor or tyrion is hella problematic' rhetoric had started to circle coming from sans*ery shippers mostly but I'mma not open that fucking can of worms here, b) while the ending of S5 had more of a theon/sansa spike, the j*nsa stuff started getting big

now here we have to mention my villain origin story ie: j*nsa fandom had this one stan whose name I won't make because honestly it's been years and if she's still around I don't want her to remember I exist who was a bnf, wrote for... the website that created the whole larry/carol thing etc who was really fixed on this thing that j*nsa was actually canon and started writing extremely popular meta about it. now you're gonna ask how do you know, I know because this person once wrote a meta named 'why robb stark is a dick' and I told her that it was really fucking bad meta and she took it so badly she kept on trash talking me on her blog/her podcast (I was apparently the insane robb stark fangirl l m a o good lord) and like that was when some sane ppl who argued with her informed me in pvt that she was basically harping on the CANON thing when they'd have been okay with like... it being crackshipping and that she was basically cultivating a hoarde of followers who were harping on them/the ogs and basically ostracizing them;

I would like to add that this person - before her tumblr got 'accidentally deleted' and remade it therefore deleted most receipts for, er, her so-called meta which included stuff like ned and cat raised sansa as a sexual object and only wanted to sell her like cattle - had at some point started a round robin fic thing where... some of the characters mocked openly said stuff that some of the og fans had said specifically targeting them and people in that side basically went harassing anyone who didn't agree with that specific notion

now never mind that this person basically coined an entire term to describe ppl who liked white guys and excused all their wrongdoings out of my conversation re robb basically lying about everything I said as if I didn't have the receipts and tried to sell shirts with it and it didn't work and like then she got kicked out of her own website because she was telling her commenters disagreeing pretty shitty insults (considering I was called psychotic for disagreeing with her that time I don't doubt it) I think at some point she stepped back from fandom bc idk wtf she's up to these days and I don't want to, but basically at that point the dam was broken and there was a bunch of puritanical shippers harping on anyone who didn't agree with j*nsa is canon endgame stuff

this also includes an incident when those ppl were like... passing themselves as throbb shippers and ended up trying to tell t*hramsay shippers off the theon tag based on moral reasons and I ended up arguing with all of them (and they were all from that crowd) which in turn landed me in contact with other og j*nsa shippers who were like detached from that fandom bc those same people harassed them away as well ssooooo fun

anyway when S6 happened everyone was high on it and whatnot but I wasn't gonna begrudge them that I mean... you shipped it for years, canon is delivering you, good for you, but then j*nerys happened

god j*nerys happened

aaand basically...... I mean personally I was there like are y'all seriously arguing about the best incest jon ship out there but like basically the j*nsa endgame side was like AH JON IS PLAYING DANY SEE IF IT DOESN'T HAPPEN, the j*nerys obv got defensive af and both sides were sort of alternatively shitting on jon/ygritte anyway and depicting any other romantic rship jon could have as abusive™ and during S8 it just got worse and like I tried to stay out of it but basically from what I'm seeing now idk how the j*neryses are doing but on the j*nsa one it's ah jon's gonna play dany anyway and she's going to go insane like in the show so SHOW TRUTHING EVERY OTHER WAY and like again denying that sandor exists or that tyrion exists and like I barely touch my corner (sansan) but I ended up arguing with j*nsa/th*nsa people on twitter who were antis and is2g it was white-hair inducing and I know for sure the sansa/tyrion shippers were harassed to hell and back throughout so FUN

and even if the show didn't go there now since everyone there banked on the jnsa endgame thing and admitting you're wrong is like... not a thing, they still haven't let go of it and attach to that ship any shred of evidence which honestly is grasping at straws half of the time (like... the sansa/alysanne parallels like guys please no) and which is why every other ship is starting to get fed up, attaching canon proof of stuff from other ships onto theirs see that batb argument and jb is platonic but jonsa is not nvm taking all the sansan stuff and throwing it on j*nsa but then denying that sansan has canon evidence (like guys I had to read sansa touching his shoulder when saying gregor wasn't a true knight wasn't meaningful and we were seeing things please) and blah blah blah

this also goes hand in hand with the fixation on like... villanizing dany at all costs and like is2g I have zero investment in dany or her storyline I don't even remember it and I don't particularly care abt her either way and sure af I'm not for j*nerys endgame but like.... some stuff I read is completely excessive esp when fixing on how she's a completely mad tyrant who's gonna have to be put down and like... guys no

(also there's some srs stannis hate in that corner which I honestly don't get why they even care abt stannis but I had to read stuff like ppl don't recognize that dany and stannis are the real villains in this saga and like........ idek)

I think most of the og shippers are gone or don't ship it openly bc they don't want to be attached to the drama but like I also think they're pissing off everyone else bc like... I mean a bunch of them also were down with sansa being paired with other ppl as long as it meant a good ending for her except those ppl were... like everyone but the ppl she has actual contact with in canon which meant that at some point sansa/gendry was a thing and like.... you can imagine why arya/gendry shippers & arya stans were fed up, and there's also this tendency to behave like sansa is the center of the entire saga which like these books is named a song of jon snow basically can we pls make peace with it and personally I've had it with both j*nsa and j*nerys people since they started with that dumbass JON/YGRITTE WAS AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP rhetoric but I'm also fed up with the total ignoring that sandor exists/depicting us as delusional and honestly I also was by proxy fed up from the harassing of the sansa/tyrion shippers soooooooooooo

there were also instances of 'well theon is an acceptable choice other than jon bc he can't threaten her' which... i mean we all know what that meant and I'm not even commenting it bc it's one AM and I have no force to but I don't have to explain why it's not a progressive take now do I

there were also metas about how cousin incest being legal in half of the world means that jondany is a worse incest and j*nsa doesn't count as such and I was basically there like guys please just fucking own up to it but honestly I chose to forgot where I read that and I couldn't find the link if I tried

tldr: no one wants to admit that it's not gonna be endgame which considering the amount of fic they have on ao3 is imvho useless bc they have more content than like.. anything I ship that's not jb or that's actually like canon *cries in joncon/rhaegar but I mean renly/loras is canon and has less fic than them* so idk what's the problem with enjoying that instead of insisting it's gonna be canon when not even the show validated it while show truthing anyway when the only show truthing that can be truthed is the small council made of minorities and possibly jon eventually fucking off with the wildlings but not like that but like most people who thought it wasn't gonna be endgame had left/were made to leave by the time S7 rolled by and at this point since wow isn't out yet everyone is fandom-grasping at straws to find stuff to discourse on and we're here beating dead horses *shrug*

so that's... how it is but I would again like to point out that I don't judge ppl on their shipping, I don't particularly care about this entire feud bc I only ship jon with ppl he's not related to in whichever way and I try to stay out of this mess bc I don't really care to argue with ppl who have already decided to bend canon to whatever they want and will have to realize that it's not what grrm wrote at some point but like I have a very good memory and the above rant is as objective as possible also bc again I don't literally have a stake in that race I just think romantic/endgame j*nsa is not a thing and that ppl should stay in their lane and not harping on other ppl who ship whatever in general but especially when their ship is the most popular thing in fandom in the first place /two cents

[meichenxi]

*rant commencing*

ok guys let’s sit down and have a think about the way we talk to kids, particularly neurodivergent ones, and the weight it carries

the other day, I opened up to a friend about something really hurtful my best (and only) friend said to me when I was fifteen. It was a moment of emotional intimacy and the first time I had brought it up seven years later and, once again, I got laughed at and told I was too fucking sensitive

and ok maybe yeah I was a ridiculous child. I’m a ridiculous adult, that shouldn’t be surprising. But this hurt and hurt and hurt and I was trying to think about why this in particular and not anything else was so painful

so here’s the situation. at fifteen, like many smart kids, everyone thought the world was open to me. Ok I had no social skills to speak of and was ostracised by teachers and students and family, but I was an optimistic kid, and in a disaster of a home situation (involving kidnappings and court cases and running away and being out of school for a year and a brother starting drugs at 12 and living in a shelter and basically just a LOT) I was always the smiley helpful one. and apart from being defeated by very simple mechanisms like idk drawers or biscuit packets, I picked things up quickly. I took GCSEs early and extra and tutored others; I was a regional competitive swimmer in breaststroke and open water; I taught myself the flute and got into an international touring youth orchestra without lessons; I won a poetry competition for adults in primary school; I played competitive netball and was a long distance runner; I drew and sold my art; I wrote shitty novels and started making conlangs and was interviewed on bbc world about it; I loved performing and was invited to join a theatre company when I left school; and my biggest passion in the entire world apart from Tolkien was martial arts. And the best thing was for my parents - one of whom was disabled and didn’t work and the other who was a cleaner - is that I worked two paper rounds and tutored younger children and earned all of the money for it myself. blah blah blah. I was your mum’s friend’s kid. 

well, I’m a disaster adult, so you can probably guess that none of that lasted for very long. and there are gazillions of people here with exactly the same story. 

the point in question, though, was when I was fifteen and thinking about sixth form (the last two years of school in the UK) it was becoming clear alarmingly fast that you weren’t allowed to just keep doing everything you loved. at some point you had to make a choice. 

but how could I give up swimming for music? Or music for languages? Or languages for athletics? Or athletics for theatre? or, actually, all of them but one???? how did people just know what they had to do with their lives? how did they choose? 

the problem was, I said to my friend, I know I could do well at any of them, so how was I supposed to choose? (tactless and a stupid thing to say and also just not true but I was fifteen and simultaneously disgustingly cocky and cripplingly insecure) And he laughed and said, well, fuck you then. 

oh noooo. poor meeeeeee. I’m so fucking good at things what do I dooooo

I haven’t stopped thinking about that comment for seven years. Every single time I think about wasting my potential, every time I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that I’m not being productive or useful and hating myself because I’m upset that I can’t do something right away and I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about - I think about that comment. I’m lucky. It’s alright for some. 

because, actually, being expected to know what to do with your life aged 15 is a fucking terrifying thing. we were kids at fifteen being told to make decisions as if we had all the facts, as if we weren’t also being blindfolded and spun around in circles until we couldn’t stand. Do you do what your parents say? what you think you want to do? what your teachers say? do you just stay in education even though it’s not for you because your dream is stupid, or because you don’t have a dream like everyone else seems to? are you supposed to have a dream?

*it’s NOT a stupid thing to worry about*

particularly when? well, when your entire self worth equates to the things that you output, the things that you do. so just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of all of these wonderful, dazzling, damaged, crazy kids with big dreams and big hearts, kids that are struggling right now and kids that are our future, and imagine that you’ve been told since you were old enough to read or speak or walk that you’re just so very clever

isn’t it just wonderful how clever you are? isn’t it just great how we never need to worry about you? you’re such an easy child, it’s a blessing. always so considerate, so thoughtful, never making a fuss! isn’t it just fantastic how well you do in school? I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a child who went to all of those nasty parties. you’re so dedicated

raise your hand if you were only ever told you were good. raise your hand if you were never told you were kind. 

so, what happens? you take a child, and you tell them for its entire childhood that they’re clever. You don’t tell them that they’re creative, or hard-working, or dedicated, or driven, or helpful. You let them know that it’s ok that they’re weird, because they’re going to be successful. what do you think parents say to their kid who’s crying because she has no friends and she doesn’t understand what the other children are thinking and why they would hurt each other like that? even good parents, the very best of them, say things like: you’re just more mature than they are. it doesn’t matter. keep your head down - you’ll show them. 

your child, in the best case scenario, has access to her hyperfixation that makes the world big and bright and beautiful. she’s a bit weird, but it’s kind of cute. anyway, she’s good at it. and as long as she succeeds, conventionally, and you get to brag, then it’s ok that she’s a little bit unconventional.

and then things to break, just a little. and then, aged eleven, your child is having an asthma attack in the classroom because she got so anxious she couldn’t answer a maths question she couldn’t breathe. it’s ok, her parents tell her the next day. you’re just not good at maths - that’s alright. you don’t have to be good at everything

your child, because she’s perceptive, begins to realise that things don’t get better as you get older. people are just as cruel at 12 as they are at 7, and they’ll be just as cruel at 15. and then one day, as a bad joke because she doesn’t really understand humour, she writes a fake text to her dad from someone’s phone in legalese that actually has a secret code hidden it in that she knows her dad will crack right away because he’s brilliant. she thinks it’s hilarious. her father thinks he is being threatened, and spends the next week in meltdown, bedridden and burnt-out. and when she owns up, he turns and snaps at her, and says as if you could write something like that. an ADULT wrote this, not a fucking child

and suddenly, that cleverness they kept talking about? they don’t even understand that. 

suddenly, no one sees her at all. 

she needs to learn to be like the other kids. to be like a fucking child. and while she’s learning, she doesn’t speak for a year

that happened to me, but take your pick - I’m sure you don’t have to look far to find examples of your own. 

My point is this: if you tell a child for their entire life that the only thing that is worthy of being loved is what they achieve, if every time they do something they love you tell them oh, you could be a famous writer! you’re so talented! rather than saying that you loved listening to their story, if you only praise them when they’re good and quiet and convenient and tell them that as long as they succeed, it doesn’t matter if they don’t have friends or if they’re miserable, and THEN you tell them to choose ONE THING and drop 90% of everything that makes them who they are - 

what the hell did you THINK was going to happen??

because here’s the first thing. for many kids, whether that’s because of neurodivergence or age maturity or whatever, hyper fixations and hobbies aren’t just things they like to do. THEY ARE LIFELINES. they’re the things these kids go to when they’re hurt, angry, upset, because they make sense. for many kids, especially but not always girls, they are able to camouflage themselves and mask tendencies of neurodivergence because they’re ‘good students’. at a family gathering once, my mum, so frustrated at my inability and lack of desire to talk to any members of my extended family, snatched my German grammar book and locked it in the boot of the car. knowing that I escape and read it in the toilet was the only thing keeping me going, exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed. I vomited on the grass.

and here’s the second thing. you tell us from an early age that they only way we’ll ever be acceptable to the rest of society is if we succeed. autistic kids are fine, as long as they’re international maths olympiad champions. adhd kids are fine, as long as they’re famous athletes. if you’re obsessed with musicals that’s ok, as long as that obsession leads to a well-paying job as a successful writer on Broadway. 

and then you tell us that we only have one chance at that success? and this decision determines the rest of our lives? and that we had so much potential when we were kids, and we better not waste it now? that not everyone is so lucky to be able to choose between so many things?? 

because being asked to choose between these things isn’t being asked to choose a hobby. when the only way anyone else defines you positively is by your success in one area, that becomes your entire identity. 

so no, we’re not being too sensitive when you ask us to pick and choose what career, or what hobby to take forward. you’re not asking about hobbies. you’re asking us to choose what kind of person we want to be. you’re asking us to choose the most impactful way we can give back to the world, because we can’t waste those god-given talents. you’re asking us to figure out, still a child and hopelessly lost, what our purpose on this planet is. and you’re looking at us as if the ways that we survived all of these years, the things we clung to for comfort, are things we can just cast aside without further thought

ask me now, and I’ll tell you that’s not the way things work. we have second chances and third ones and tenth ones, we can be different things to different people and we can do different things at different parts in our lives, and be successful in different areas. life isn’t a fucking flowchart. and I’m still trying to come to terms with all the things I could have been, and my freak-outs about ‘wasted potential’ are so clockwork I could plan my calendar around them, but I’m beginning to understand that life doesn’t end when you’re twenty, or when you haven’t written a best-seller by eighteen. you have time.   

but at fifteen? at fifteen, that question broke me. 

do you know what you can do instead? you can show a little thoughtfulness. you can be kinder, and lead by example, and praise your kids when they’re kind too. when your son runs to you and shows you what you think is a better picture than you - a stick figure artisan, if you say so yourself - could ever create, you can actually just say you really like it. you can ask him if that’s him and daddy and the dog on a cloud. describe the picture back to him, and engage with this thing he’s made from his imagination - tell him the clouds he’s drawn are so big and fluffy and white, and ask if there are giant spiders living there. you know how to shut a child up? tell them yes dear, it’s wonderful. don’t be that person. promote your kid’s creativity - ask questions, have fun, play with this thing they’ve made - and not destroy it

when your daughter comes to you and shows you a song she’s written, don’t tell her she’s so talented or that she could be a musician one day. just sing along. ask her why she wrote it, and what she was thinking of when she did. ask her if she could make it different for two people singing it at the same time. 

and if your child just really, really loves maths? let them do maths. it’s ok if their interests are stereotypical - as long as they love it and it’s fun, supporting them is wonderful. the best present my father ever got me was five hours of tutoring - an introduction to linguistics!! - when I turned twelve, starting on my birthday at 8am. I had never felt so understood and so loved. 

as much as these simple things can destroy someone’s life, can stop them talking for a year, you have the chance to be that one voice of kindness that is a friend where a young person needs it most. 

for me, this was the Bus Lady. I never knew her first name because I forgot immediately and was too embarrassed to ask again, but we got the bus together for two years right before I applied to university - she was a trainee teacher at my school. she saw that I missed tutor group and sat in the corridor every morning writing, and that I ran laps for an hour every lunchtime instead of sitting alone. but she came and sat with me one morning and asked what I was doing; I was developing a new shorthand and told her so warily. 

she didn’t raise her eyebrows or say wow, that’s...that’s amazing. instead she frowned and looked at me skeptically and said ‘But why would you do that? There are plenty of functional shorthands out there - what does your shorthand have that they don’t? Tell me about it.’

I had no idea what to say

this was the first time anyone had actually ENGAGED in any capacity with what I was doing. and just like that, just by treating me seriously and asking valid questions and pointing out inconsistencies, I was a person who happened to have an idea that was in some serious need of questioning, and not a freak

there’s no way she remembers that interaction; she’s been a teacher now for year and probably doesn’t even remember who I am. But I had been this close to not going to university, to not bothering, and she made me stop, and wait a moment

she will never know the difference that that conversation and two months of kindness on the bus from a stranger made in my life. 

so let’s be kind to each other, please. let’s be forgiving. let’s challenge each other and let’s engage with kids with special interests and listen to them talk. and so to any educators or teachers or parents or even other kids, I want to say - let’s treat our words seriously and with respect, like we treat our children, because they have immense capacity to hurt, because they can be used for good. 

to any other fifteen year olds in a similar position, I just want to say: none of us here on tumblr have properly sorted our lives out, but I promise you it does get so much better.

you’re not too sensitive. you’re not a freak. you’re not only acceptable because you succeed. I know if you’re masking you feel you have to and it’s for survival, and I’m sorry, because you shouldn’t have to. and you should never, never have to think that you ‘have it good’ or that you’re lucky and are not allowed to hurt. there’s always some one who has it worse, and you can’t stop beat yourself up about that. fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. if you have gone through trauma, if you have unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally ill and some of it stems from this, I am so very very sorry. but you will be ok, even if you can’t write for a couple of years, or even if things change. you’ll get there. speaking as someone who is now writing for the first time in six years, drawing for the first time in longer, it’s scary and new and weird, but you will come out the other side. 

and you do work hard. and you are creative. and you are loved. and you are so very, very kind.

*rant over*

[jaskiersvalley]

Thank you so much for your amazing writing!! I love all the ficlets and fics you have posted in your tumblr. Would you believe me if I say that everyday I log into tumblr to see if you have posted anything else? I have been in quarantine in my house for a month (government issued quarantine) but you always get me to smile. So thank you!! And keep on!! Ps: i love the fics in which you make jaskier interact with the rest of the wolves causing and initial panic as they are not used to affection.

I really hope quarantine has treated you well, Nonnie and things are easier wherever in the world you are!  It make my little heart soar to know that my writing has brought a smile to your face. May this next little fic for you give you a little more to smile about today. I really hope you enjoy it!

As far as travelling companions went, Geralt was quite pleased with Jaskier. Minus his annoying tendency to chatter, to constantly play music and be a general pest. There wasn’t anything special about him, except for the high notes he could hit when given enough incentive. He obviously hadn’t seen enough of the world, given how constantly cheerful he was, happily bounding along after Geralt into all manner of fights. Which was downright unfortunate when Geralt ended up facing off against a leshen and miscalculated. Distantly, he could hear Jaskier’s shout and Geralt had just enough time left to feel guilty at making Jaskier witness his death and also probably be slaughtered by the leshen. But as his mind turned to the shame and indignity of such a stupid death, Geralt slipped from the land of the living.

He really didn’t expect to blink his eyes open to see Jaskier peering down at him, lute in hand.

“Ah, I was wondering when you would deign to wake up. Come on now, the day is wasting away. We have contract to claim the reward on then I want to sing in the tavern for a dinner. I have a new song I need to try.”

Geralt sat up with a groan and looked down at his stomach. His clothes had a large gash in them but underneath it, his skin was pristine, not even a scar to show some evidence of accelerate healing.

“I died,” he grunted.

“Yeah, but you got better.”

That made zero sense but Jaskier was already off, strumming his lute and humming, obviously not interested in having a conversation. It was possibly for the first time in his life.

After that incident, Geralt paid more attention and he began to see a pattern. Wherever Jaskier went, meadows blossomed, vases perked up, there was even the incident with the kitten and the crying children. After Jaskier declared that an adult ought to have a look, the kitten was running around and the children cried no more. Only, Geralt had seen enough dead things to know that the kitten had most definitely not been alive three minutes earlier.

“Are you a necromancer?” he asked without any preamble, once they had settled on their bedrolls for the night.

“No.” While the answer was the truth, Jaskier still sounded hesitant.

“But? I know you brought that kitten back to life. And me, after that incident with the leshen.”

“Okay, technically I’m not a necromancer. I’m just-” Jaskier scratched the back of his neck and looked down before mumbling, “kind of on really good terms with Death.”

Once again, it made zero sense so Geralt just stared at Jaskier. It did the trick because more words came forth.

“I sort of died and didn’t realise it, was a bit too busy composing. Well, Death heard my song and liked it. Like, really liked it. Now, I just have to play a song and ask Death and, well, you’ve seen what happens. Plus, Death likes it when I’m happy so I can work little things like flowers and the sorts without their input.”

Trust Jaskier to charm Death. Geralt was half tempted to start smacking his head against the wall because he actually should have expected it. Jaskier was too pure to be a necromancer.

“Okay,” Geralt said because there was nothing else to say really. And so, they continued along their travels. Winter saw them in Kaer Morhen with the other wolves and Geralt had all but forgotten to mention Jaskier’s otherworldly friend who helped out.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. Sure, Lambert was ecstatic that his cactus had survived, even bore a flower a few days after their arrival but that was just strange. Vesemir’s herb garden seemed to be exceptionally bountiful. The only thing that was strange was the way the witchers could sense the opening of a portal every now and then but by the time they got to it, all they could see was Jaskier, strumming at his lute and singing something bright yet mournful, occasionally downright macabre.

One by one, the witchers figured it out, or at least thought they did. Geralt had to reassure his family that Jaskier wasn’t a necromancer, they would have been able to detect the sharp burn of such magic. But proof came when, one morning, Eskel entered the great hall, face crumpled with grief, the body of a goat in his arms.

“It’s Li’l Bleater,” he said, voice shaking ever so slightly. “I don’t know what happened.”

Lambert had skidded around the corner and marched up to Eskel, pulling him into a hug as soon as the goat’s body was gently laid down. There wasn’t anything he could rally say to make it better.

“He was in his pen, safely locked in.” Eskel was trembling a little but there were no tears. “I don’t know what happened to him.”

Jaskier padded closer and suddenly Geralt knew what was going to happen. A hand darted out to stroke over Li’l Bleater’s head before Jaskier settled to pluck a few chords on his lute, starting into a slow song.

“Now is not the time for this, bard,” Lambert spat, turning to snarl at Jaskier and his insensitive ways. “This is Eskel’s- Oh fuck me.”

On the ground Li’l Bleater blinked awake and kicked to get back up onto four legs. Letting out a soft bleat, he trotted up to Eskel and butted against his leg.

It was the moment Vesemir entered the room and he frowned, looking between Eskel and his goat. “How many times have I told you, no animals in the keep. I haven’t had to tell you that since you were fifty.”

The secret was out about Jaskier though and he had to, once again, explain how he might have become buddies with Death. Nodding with a frown, Vesemir obviously had a few concerns.

“So Death only ever brings things back to life for you. Never the other way round?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened in realisation and Geralt had to snatch the lute from his grasp as a mutter of “Valdo Fucking Marx” left Jaskier’s lips.

“And who else knows about this ability you have harnessed?”

Looking at Jaskier, it was obvious there was someone else. However, he was reluctant to say who and betray their confidence. It didn’t matter though because a week later, a portal opened in the courtyard where the witchers were practising while Jaskier strummed at a new song. Of all the people, it was Yennefer who walked through it, a body slung over her shoulder.

“Again?” Jaskier asked with a sigh but he diligently played a new song for Death as payment. On the floor, Stregobor gasped to life. “Try and keep him alive for more than two weeks this time, I need time to compose songs worthy enough.”

Nodding her thanks, Yennefer gripped Stregobor and disappeared through another portal without a word. Three sets of yellow eyes turned to Geralt who looked just a little shell shocked. He was definitely going to be more careful around Yennefer after that, he did not want to end up on her wrong side.

[ratisnotcrying]

Juno Steel and how to pretend you’re fine

Summary: Juno hasn’t had a bad day in a long time. Okay, maybe he has, but not a bad-bad day, not a self-sacrifice-and-gun-fights bad day, not a what-if-I-crash-my-car bad day. He especially hadn’t had an I-need-to-hurt-myself-and-I-don’t-care-who-I-take-with-me kind of bad day.Except today. Today felt like all of those wrapped into one and multiplied by a thousand.

Prompt: “What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?” from prompt-dealer (i think)

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel 

Warnings: canon typical suicidal thoughts/ suicidal tendancies, mentions of car crashes, intrusive thoughts, previous minor character death

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: this is cross posted on ao3 - please lmk if i need to add any tags 

~~~

Juno hasn’t had a bad day in a long time. Okay, maybe he has, but not a bad-bad day, not a self-sacrifice-and-gun-fights bad day, not a what-if-I-crash-my-car bad day. He especially hadn’t had an I-need-to-hurt-myself-and-I-don’t-care-who-I-take-with-me kind of bad day. 

Except today. Today felt like all of those wrapped into one and multiplied by a thousand. 

The old Juno would have given in. He would have entertained the idea for all of no time at all and then dived in head first with his eyes wide open. Juno-now (he wasn’t a new Juno, he was just… now, here) still entertained the idea, hell, he might even wonder why he wanted to do whatever it was. But he wouldn’t do it. Probably. 

He definitely wouldn't hurt someone else, no matter what he did. 

~~~

It had started after the last job, which had gone quite spectacularly wrong. 

Juno and Peter hadn’t gone in expecting an easy job - stealing a painting off the wall of a crowded ballroom was obviously going to be difficult - but that had gone off without a hitch, had gone off easier than the last time they did such a heist. No, the real issue came when a different thief had tried to steal a vase and gotten caught. It wasn’t even a nice vase, definitely not nice enough to die over. 

It had turned into a messy hostage situation, Juno’s HCPD training and his own career as professional hostage kicking in as he tried desperately to find a way to get everyone out. 

You can’t save everyone, Juno.

Three civilians and the thief had wound up dead, and more injured than Juno’s guilt ridden brain could count, and by the time he and Peter were back on the Carte Blanche, Juno could barely speak for the shock of what had happened. Neither Buddy nor Peter said anything when Peter debriefed with no input from Juno. 

Buddy did, however, decide to put off selling the painting for a little while, giving everyone some time to relax. This is where Juno’s bad day had started. 

~~~

In the timeless limbo between jobs, it was easy to lose yourself: Rita in her streams with Jet; Buddy and Vespa in their wedding plans, and Peter and Juno in each other. Juno couldn’t help the feeling he was losing himself alone. 

He knows he should have said something to Peter, or Rita, or even Vespa if he was desperate, but he was too busy trying to convince himself had it under control. 

His mind had been racing in loose circles, chasing empty thoughts and half-memories of every time Juno had fucked up, every time he had let someone die, every time he had almost let someone die. 

Benten. Yasmin. Alessandra. 

His head felt heavy with it, weighing him down into a feeling he thought he had long forgotten, numbing him so he couldn’t feel his way out. All he could find in the mess was the handy how-to he had written himself. 

How to pretend your fine when you absolutely, totally are - by Juno Steel

~~~

He had been doing a good job, if he did say so himself. Even if he and the rest of the ship knew that was a lie. 

Rita had been hovering more, not smothering him, just letting him know she was there; Jet never mentioned when Juno came and sat silently with him for a few hours, handing him tools when he asked. Buddy had outright told him that if he wanted to talk then she would always have time, ‘always, darling, just say the word’. Even Vespa had been a little nicer - their typically aggressive banter becoming more like a strangely aggressive therapy. 

And Peter. Peter was Juno’s anchor. He always was. 

But he could only pretend for so long.

~~~

Tonight, Juno wanted to drive - being inside was not helping, and so, from one moment to the next, Juno found himself behind the wheel, Peter in the passenger seat. It was late and Juno couldn't remember what planet they were on anymore. 

The car’s single head light shone dimly on the road in front of them and Juno stared blankly through the windshield, muscle memory alone stopping him from crashing. 

He used to do this, he used to drive for hours, let his numbness fill the car till he forgot he was driving and drifted mentally, drifted physically… 

He wanted to drift today. He wanted to feel weightless. 

The repetitive splashing rounds of the wheels sent Juno spiralling again, an endless list of people he had failed circling through his mind over and over and over again and goddammit he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, he needed it to stop, even if just for a second.

“What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?”

~~~

Peter had noticed the shift in Juno immediately after the job. He had seen his smiles become more strained, his eyes were hazy and unfocussed, movements slowed - as if he was drifting away, moving through a time Peter wasn’t quite in. 

He stayed close to Juno, and when Juno suggested a drive, Peter thought maybe this could be a good time to talk to him. But Juno had said nothing. They had been driving for hours. The suns had set and Juno didn’t seem to be heading home anytime soon, so Peter was about to speak, about to ask Juno what he could do. 

“What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?”

Peter was silent for a second, not quite sure he had heard Juno properly. Juno didn’t even seem aware that he had spoken aloud, nor did he seem to remember Peter was even there. He’s almost certain that the car was speeding up. 

“Juno, can you pull over please, love?”

The car swerved slightly, Juno startled at Peter’s voice, and Peter reached out and grabbed the wheel, pulling them back onto the road, “Juno, you need to pull over.”

The car slowed and, after what felt like a lifetime, came to a stop, a small cloud of dust flying up from under the wheels. 

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be fine.” Juno’s hands were gripped tightly on the wheel in a way that could have only been painful.

“Why don’t we get some fresh air, and then we can talk?”

Slowly, even slower than in the past week, Juno climbed out of the car and sat with Peter on the bonnet, staring up at the sky. 

“I should be fine,” he said again, “I’ve been fine and now… and now I'm not fine!” Juno choked on a sob. God, he hated being vulnerable. 

Peter considered this for a moment, “I know this is going to sound cliche, dear, but you don’t have to be okay. You’re allowed to be sad and angry, and-”

“But I am always angry, Nureyev. Always. I am angry at myself because I keep letting people get hurt and get dead. I’m angry at my mom and I’m angry at every goddamn person I meet and I don’t even know why half the time. There’s just- there’s just rage, and I can control it, better than I could before, but I dont- I dont know if I want to anymore. I just want to let go.”

“Why can’t you let it out, Juno?”

“I’ve done that before. Blind rage is how you get got,” Juno very carefully didn’t look at Peter when he said, “Letting go is how… letting go is how I nearly got myself. I’ve come so close to leaving this place, finally getting some damned rest. I don’t know what kept me here.”

Peter tried not to be too shocked at the almost wistful tone Juno used - they could talk about that another day, for now Peter just prompted, “You’re still here?”

Juno laughed humourlessly, “Yeah, that’s because I always got stupid lucky, and one day that’s gonna bite me in the ass. It was always other people getting got, never me,” He laid back against the windscreen, legs kicking softly at the bumper, “God, I’ve killed so many people.”

“Did you, though? Did you kill them all or did you blame yourself for not being able to do the impossible? Did you blame yourself for not being able to save every single person you met - a task which, I might add, is quite impossible, love.”

He shook his head and kept staring at the stars, looking for answers in the constellations. Peter laid next to him. 

It was a few minutes before Juno broke the silence, “Can we stay here a little while, before we go back?”

Peter would’ve stayed there all night if that’s what Juno needed. 

“Would you tell me a story, Juno? Maybe about someone you saved?” 

Reluctantly, Juno began to tell Peter about an eccentric real estate lawyer and her exploding, tuna-brick-loving cat, absently tracing patterns on the back of Peter’s hand. 

They laid there for almost an hour, but the cool night was interrupted by Peter’s comms beeping twice, signifying a message. 

Is everything okay darling? You’ve been gone a while.

As good as it can be right now. We’ll be back soon. 

“Who’s that?” Juno mumbled sleepily, his gaze shifting to Peter. 

“It was Buddy. Perhaps we should head back to the Carte Blanche.”

Juno nodded, sliding off the car but stopping short halfway to the driverside. 

“Would you like me to drive, dear?.”

Juno looked like he wanted to protest, like he wanted to tell Peter that he wouldn’t actually crash, but instead he just nodded and tossed the keys over the car. 

~~~

Peter knew that they would have to talk properly, they had to talk about Juno trusting him and the rest of their family; they would definitely have to talk about Juno’s allusions to his… more self destructive tendencies. For now, though, Juno dozing on his shoulder, the night road leading them home, would be enough to put both of their minds at rest for the night.

[littlefreya]

Bad Reputation

Synopsis: Henry and his girl can’t get enough from one another. They keep finding themselves in rather sticky and lusty situations while other actors are present around them. 🤭

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, exhibition kink, public display of affection, dirty language, slight fingering, daddy kink.

A/N: This is by request made for thigh riding! I see this as a slight sequel to  Putting up a Show and Good Girl just because in my mind they are the same couple. Many thanks again to the marvellous @agniavateira​ for doing the beta! Masterlist is here.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! Thank you for reading as always :)

PR fucking nightmare - that’s what our managers call us. 

They thought it would go away after our first year of dating. But the sad truth is, Henry just loves to touch, and I’m a hot-blooded woman who loves to fuck shit up. Three years in being married and the line is so goddamn blurry by now; I am never quite certain which one of us initiates it, nor do I even care. 

I see my bear sitting sprawled across the red leather sofas, legs spread open as he can never keep them shut. I know I’m terribly biased but that black tuxedo suit sure as hell looks great on his strong figure, especially with the crooked bowtie and the beard he’s been growing for his new movie role. 

And as if the bad boy vibes and big dick energy he sends everywhere wasn’t enough, the half-empty Grey Goose bottle on the round golden table next to him and the slight sweat that covers his forehead is a red flag that we are definitely getting into trouble tonight. 

Bring it on. 

Armie is sitting right next to him, telling him about some scheme by the gesture he is making with his hands. But I can tell Henry has other things on his mind. I can feel his eyes looking at me even when I am standing far away. Our gazes meet, he offers me a mischievous smile, showing off the large dimples of his cheeks. This is what I call a wet, slippery invention. 

I blush and look away. I mean, I have Rebecca Ferguson holding my forearms. That woman makes me want to invite her into our bedroom, but Henry doesn’t like sharing, not even with women. It doesn’t matter how much I’d pout and beg, he likes me all to himself, and he loves it when others can see that I am his. 

It’s always his hand between my thighs, riding up higher, thumb tickling at my clit teasingly. We sat through an entire acceptance speech with him working me hard. If anyone looks closely at that video on Youtube, you can see the exact moment when he hits the spot.

Sorry, Leo, I wasn’t smiling because you won. 

This is us being subtle. Hotels and parties, however, are a different story. We already had a manager quit on us because we made sure the entire floor hears what we are doing through the night. 

Rebecca kisses me on the cheek, the gorgeous Swedish redhead is already tipsy, and I’ve had my second glass of wine. She’s in a red satin dress, her impressive breasts showing through her cleavage. I also spot a few freckles on her chest. It makes me pout and look at Henry, who shakes his head in refusal. 

“Where is your hubby anyway?” she asks playfully, and I point in the direction of where he is sitting. Armie is just getting up, leaving Henry alone. He pours himself some more vodka, fills the glass with ice and then takes a sip with a lustful gaze. That’s probably my cue to keep him company and take that glass away.  

That video when he told everyone to get naked will forever be online. He also has a tendency to start making impressions of others when he is flustered, and I can’t contain my laughter when that happens.

“He’s too drunk to get up.” I sigh, shaking my head while he makes playful, sad faces at me. I shrug and take my phone out my purse, seeing two text messages from him.

Henry: “Where are you, babygirl?” Henry: “I want to squeeze that ass.” 

I text him back “Armie’s? Go for it. Can we have Rebecca, pleaaaaase?” 

He reads my reply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in complete refusal. 

“Not. sharing. you. Do you want me to spank you in front of all these people?” 

Rebecca is oddly enough very touchy-feely, her hand sliding down my forearms while she speaks about how wonderful Henry is, and how fun it was to work with him on MI6.

“He’s not like all the other ones, he is an actual friend,” she explains to me, her beautiful green eyes lighting up. 

“I know, that’s how he got me, pretended to be my friend for years.” I chuckle, remembering the times we were still just friends. If you look at videos of us from interviews and photos from events from the time we worked together, you’d think we’ve been dating already. He always touched me subtly, his eyes staring at me intently when I speak. And of course, no one cracks him up the way I do.

But Henry waited 5 years for both of us to be single at the same time to “kidnap” me during a walk with our dogs at the forest, where I’d literally be unable to run away. He did that so he can tell me he’s been in love and growing in love with me ever since we met.

I smile at the sweet memory. I held my tears when that word left his lips.

“I’ll come to say hello later, I’m starving,” she says and rubs her belly gently. I nod and lean forward to kiss her, deliberately kissing her soft, red-painted lips for Henry to see. Us girls, we really don’t mind.

As I turn to face him, he is already frowning. He’s not amused by my vexing behaviour. I give him my best angelic posture, batting my lashes and holding my hands together while my head is tilted to the side. In that pale blue and silver dress, I might look like some saint right now, but my darling knows I’ve come from south to heaven.

I make my way to him, walking slowly, a smile both in my eyes and between my cheeks. I can feel the fire burning in my chest, the sight of him is dashing, those thick thighs ever so inviting. He spreads his legs even wider, the bulge in his groin made only for me. He has his pinky finger pressed between his teeth while checking me out.

My body heeds his calling, I’m tingling wet. 

I stand in front of him, my cheeks warm as if this is a first hook up of some sort. Henry rises his beautiful blues to stare straight into my eyes. The beaming lights in the hall make his sweaty skin glow in neon pink and gold, his eyes flashing bright as the different colours dance across his face.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask, gesturing at the glass, noticing the half-empty bottle. I hope not too much, I expect to be rammed tonight when we return to the hotel. 

He shrugs, putting the glass away without bothering to finish it. He is British, and boy, he can drink a lot. He is not as half as flustered as a different guy would be, but yes, he is certainly quite drunk. Enough to give me that look of his-one eyebrow rising up-while his eyes drink in my dress, cleavage, ass, and that slit that runs from my legs to my thighs.

My friends asked me if Henry is an ass or tits man, to which my answer was “he is ‘all of me’ man.” 

“Gotta love women's liberation.” He speaks in a deep, low voice, gesturing at my provocative dress. 

“Come to daddy.” He demands, holding out his hand for me to come and sit on his thigh. To which I am more than happy to comply.

I spread my legs, moving to straddle his muscular thigh. There is a burning sensation at my core as my pelvis meets his taut muscle. My body always reacts to his touch. Henry’s hands immediately take my face, thumbs stroking at my cheeks.

“Why do you tease me, beautiful?” he murmurs, his fierce gaze tracing my face, always taken by me, memorizing every freckle and flaw as if it’s the first time we ever sit so close. God, he makes me feel so beautiful even in my ugliest of ugly days.

I lean forward to get even closer, my ass riding up his leg and my hands reach out to tug at his white buttoned shirt. “Oh, Henry-Bear, it’s. So. much. fun.”

Someone sits right next to us on the big red sofa, saying a friendly hello. We answer at the same time, without breaking eye contact. We never bother looking who is the actor, producer, or whatever who moved to bug us. Too lost in our own little mist of admiration. Henry’s fingers descend from my face to my neck, fingers skirting down my neck sensually. 

“You know what I love about these ceremonies and parties?” he asks as he leans closer to whisper in my ear and then places a wet, lingering kiss on my shoulder. His chin pushes the straps of my dress away, letting it fall on my forearm as if by accident. I let it glide, shivering as the coarse hair of his beard marks my flesh.

“I get to show you off while you’re wearing these outrageous dresses and everyone knows I am taking you home to fuck you until sunrise.”

I chuckle lustfully, my tongue pressed between my teeth. “Last time we didn’t even make it home remember?” I hum gently, feeling his rough touch on my breasts. The tip of his thumbs circles my nipples, teasing them to harden through the thin fabric of my dress. I wouldn’t give a fuck if Henry had me topless right now and sink his fangs in my tits for everyone to see. But he is far too selfish, I was made for his eyes and his eyes only.

He settles for a “chaste” show, laying a kiss beneath my chin and then pressing his face at my cleavage, inhaling the scent of my body lotion before nibbling at my breast through my dress. His breath smells like vodka-sweet and spicy at once.

“I remember, Cumberbatch saw the whole thing,” he answers, his hands holding my ribs, slightly guiding me to move my body on top of his thigh in ghostlike movements. I am searing hot, my mound feels as if it’s seconds from catching fire. I am certain he can feel it, his blue eyes now hazy and dreamlike as they watch the pink tint that runs through my neck to my cheeks. 

“Fuck me, daddy, I am so horny!”

My whisper comes out as half a cry, weak and desperate. My body is a void, it suffers without his touch, it aches when we’re disjointed. I hope we’ll never stop feeling this way toward one another. 

“Ride me, babygirl.” he urges me, raising his thigh up higher, so I’ll slide down closer. The friction makes me lose sight for a moment. My vision blurs as I throb wet and hot onto him. Good thing his trousers are black, otherwise, everyone would be able to detect the wetness I am leaving on his pants. 

I can’t reject his decree, my body needs him. 

“You like it when they watch, don’t you?” he asks me with a slightly slurred voice. His hands glide down to squeeze my ass, assisting me in dancing on the rock-hard muscle of his leg. I am grinding slow and rough, shifting my weight forward, my right hand reaching his other thigh, clawing at him with growing pleasure.

Everyone is looking at us, I am sure, some embarrassed and perhaps even appalled. How puritan of you Hollywood. These people formed their own religion and hidden sex clubs. But I am convinced many enjoy this facade and discreetly salute us, some probably holding out their cameras.  

I roll my hips up and clench my inner thighs, whimpering as my body begins to tremble.  

It doesn’t matter who is staring while I ride him so passionately, seeking my pleasure with urgency while Henry’s hands support me, saddling my hips and pulling me toward him. We don’t see anyone else. We’re locked into one another, the way we always did, just like when Henry had a girlfriend, when we were “just friends” when I dated that asshole. We’d walk into a room, and it was just me and him, hearts and chest bursting with love.

Every moment we couldn’t have one another was stolen from us, we now fight to own it back.  

“I’d sit you on my face in front of everyone, but I think Gretchen would kill us.” Henry half whispers against my throat and then licks up my neck as I lift my chin to the ceiling with gaping lips. He has his hand between my legs, drawing at my centre and sneaking between the slit of my dress to finish the job. 

“Fuck!” he teases my clit, his middle finger travelling at my seams. My entire existence shudders. The bass of the music blasts through my chest, my eardrums throb, and my eyes see all the colours of the neon at once as my cunt implodes with orgasmic bliss. Henry steals my gasp into his mouth, his hand pressing my cheeks, crushing my mouth with hunger. 

Who could ever hate us for our expression of true love?

I gasp feverishly, holding onto him as if I’m about to fall. Henry’s lips are on my temple and then my cheek. Pressing against me and not moving away. He envelops me in his big arms, a clear statement to all our viewers that I am his and he is mine.  We both move our heads to see who's been sitting next to us this entire time.

Alec Baldwin and Jake Gyllenhaal. They pretend not to stare, at least Alec does. Jake gives us a wide, knowing smile. Everyone else has also been staring as I hear the whispers and gasps. 

“Really? They did that again!?”

We bump our foreheads together and snicker with delight. Like we ever gave a fuck about being caught. It��s not the first time, won’t be the last. We just can’t get our hands off of each other. 

“Better call Gretchen now.” I tell Henry, hanging my arm around his thick neck. 

“Before or after I fuck you in one of the back rooms here?”

[masjestickingdom]

With the Purple, Soft Hair

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Slight angst, fluff, one shot

Summary: A year of solid friendship and no advancements were made--until one night, you start to see your special friend in a different light.

Note: School has been killing me, but here’s a story I just had to post. Hope you enjoy it!

____________________________________________________________________________

    There he was, the man of your dreams. Oh, how lucky you were because, of course, he had his arms around another girl, namely your close friend. His soft chocolate orbs stared deeply into your friend’s hazel ones, whispering silent messages of love and appreciation. He towered over your short friend, a feature that made her even more irresistibly cute. Worst of all, he had no idea of your existence.

    “Still haven’t talked to him?” a voice spoke behind you, pulling you away from your quiet manner. “I’m telling you, if you don’t make a move now, he’ll never know you.”

    The empty seat across from you was soon occupied by your project partner-turned-friend, Jaehyun, blocking your view of the lovely couple at the other picnic table.

    “It’s too late,” you muttered under your breath before you took a gigantic bite out of your meatball sub.

    Your deeply purple-haired friend looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the giggling lovebirds.

    “So Mark’s going out with one of your friends and he’s also my friend, but he still doesn’t know your name?” he said, averting his eyes to your lousy state. “That’s pathetic, you know?”

    You continued eating, unfazed by the usual bluntness you had gotten used to. He scoffed at your messy style of eating as you dropped a few pickles here and there onto the torn plastic wrap.

    “This whole picnic idea is pathetic,” you mumbled through your half-full mouth. “You were all like, ‘Hey, it’s a nice day today. Let’s go eat lunch out there!’ but this is just plain cruelty.”

    Jaehyun sent a short-lived apologetic smile your way and stole the lost pickles, which you didn’t really like in your food anyway.

    How you and Jaehyun became friends was a wonder. You two were simply partners for a business project, but somewhere along the way, he started growing more sarcastic. He also grew fond of teasing you whenever he could, which was a 180-degree different side of him when he had first introduced himself to you with his killer soft smile and dimples that would make any girl swoon. You had to admit, you had a crush on him at first, but his increasingly frequent sarcastic remarks turned you off. By the time your project ended, you and Jaehyun were practically inseparable; you went to festivals together and watched newly released movies at the comfort of your aunt’s house, which she let you live in since she was primarily living in the countryside, not in the city.

    Jaehyun was your wingman and you were his wingwoman: whenever either one of you wanted to catch another person’s attention, you would use each other and send ridiculous hand signals. Oftentimes, you would pretend that he was a social media influencer and asked for his autograph. It was a silly act, you both admitted, but it worked in the shallow society you lived in. But Mark Lee was a different case. He wasn’t one of those guys you were infatuated by momentarily. No, he was the man you loved for three months and counting.

    “How am I supposed to get over him?” you sighed after chomping down your sub, something Jaehyun never failed to be amazed at.

    With his eyebrows raised, he instinctively wiped the sauce staining your chin with a napkin and asked, “What do you mean ‘get over him’? Why do you have to get over him?”

    In a matter-of-a-fact tone, you replied, “Even if they break up, I can’t have him. It’s the rule.”

    “Well it’s a stupid rule.”

    It was a stupid rule, indeed, but you knew that if any one of your friends dated your past exes, you would go livid. If only you had no moral consciousness...

    There went another round of a laughing fit behind Jaehyun. You couldn’t care less about what the two were laughing about; you just wanted to be the one laughing with the black-haired prince, the one with the luscious hair that stopped at the rims of his round glasses.

    “I wish I could touch his hair,” you murmured, enviously watching your friend brush her fingers through his soft locks of hair.

    “You can touch mine,” Jaehyun offered, tilting his head towards you. “I conditioned it yesterday.”

    Your nose scrunched up in apparent disgust. “Your hair was touched by so many girls that I don’t want to.”

    “Hey, we both had our fair share of people touching our hair,” Jaehyun said defensively as he backed his head. “Besides, I bet my hair is the softest hair out of anyone in our department.”

    “No wonder all the girls keep touching your hair,” you said quietly before tackling your other bitter-tasting sub. “That girl Diane kept raving about it to her friends, and we all know that Diane has the softest hair.” 

    “Excuse me, my hair is way softer than hers,” Jaehyun said with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth frowning. “Besides, that’s just a rumor. Anyone’s hair is better than hers. Even your hair is softer than hers.”

    Pushing your soda further away from you to make space for your elbows, you waved off his last statement. “Speaking of Diane, what happened to her? I thought you guys were gonna push through.”

    “There was nothing to ‘push through’. I just wasn’t interested.”

    You rolled your eyes. “You’ve been saying that for months.”

    And he batted his eyes innocently. “Well no one has caught my eye for months.”

    “You're telling me that you, Jung Jaehyun, master of getting girls, have finally stepped down your reign?”

    Your unfamiliar friend simply shrugged. “I guess I want something serious.”

    “Not with your tendency to quickly dismiss girls you won’t.”

    Then he looked at you dead in the eye. “I’m looking for the right person.”

    “And who would the ‘right person’ be like?”

    The romantic spring wind softly blew past you, making you shudder, with your bare arms exposed. Jaehyun fixed his gaze on the sky, the wind brushing his hair in all the right places, and then on you. You stared at him in return, anticipating a serious answer.

    “Someone with nice hair.”

     There was no smiling, no laughing, no nothing. He was serious. But you didn’t even have the time to react to the honest comment because your eyes busily widened when they caught your friend’s who waved at you excitedly. At your troubled expression, Jaehyun turned around and sent a small wave towards the couple.

    “Great, now they’re coming over,” you grumbled, watching the couple take their time approaching you and Jaehyun. “We could be talking about something funny or intellectual, but, no, we’re talking about stupid hair.”

    “Okay, we both know that you’re not funny,” Jaehyun said openly.

    You had the urge to slap him with the pickles you had, but the growing feeling of anxiety and nervousness overtook all of your thoughts. They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming. A warm pair of hands wrapped around yours, causing you to avert your pathetic gaze at your half-eaten sub to the brown eyes of your sarcastic-turned-caring friend.

    “Calm down, won’t you? You won’t make a fool of yourself,” he said, trying to comfort you. “You’ve already done that today when you started snoring in class.”

    That was deserving of a glare and the following: “You suck at this.” But before you could say anything else, a chirpy voice chimed, “Hey, guys!” And the butterflies broke loose. When your friend officially introduced you to Mark and vice versa, the rhythm of your heart grew faster and faster, but all you could do was muster a small, weak smile to the man who secretly made you smile to yourself in the back of your business classes whenever he would say something with a simple smile or made Jaehyun or another one of his friends laugh at one of his lame jokes. Your heart was fluttering, and there was nothing you could do but smile.

    “Is something wrong?” your friend asked, concerned for you and your pale face.

    “She’s just having a bad time digesting her food,” Jaehyun lied, rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

    You silently sent a glare his way.

    “Yes, that’s the only explanation there is,” you said through your teeth and pulled your hands away from his.

    “Oh, for a moment I thought you two were going out with the whole hand situation,” your friend said, laughing. “Well that’s too bad because Mark and I were wondering if you guys wanted to go eat at a new 60s-themed restaurant around the corner.”

    Your stomach felt queasy as if it was tied up in knots. Even though you kept your gaze strictly on your friend, you couldn’t help but use your peripheral vision to take a sneak peek at the wonderful human being standing next to her. At that point, Mark had taken off his glasses and left them hanging on the collar of his green hoodie. You couldn’t believe how lucky your friend was to snatch away the younger boy you had your eyes on for way longer. If you could only go back in time...

    “We’ll go.”

    Those were the two words that got you to look at Jaehyun like he was crazy, earning you a not-so-innocent smile from him, and got the two of you sitting across the real couple at a nicely cushioned booth in a fast food diner on a Thursday night.

    You were fiddling with the material of your shirt, not having once looked at Mark’s direction since the moment he stepped into the restaurant. There was no way you could look at him at all his glory when your friend was sitting right across from you, talking endlessly about some class you could care less about. 

    “And the professor actually made that a freebie since he totally..."

    The rhythm of your heart slowly steadied, but your hands still felt clammy. Do I look okay? Do I seem boring? Do I look like I’m someone fun to talk to? No, you hadn’t even opened your mouth. You had been on double dates before with Jaehyun, of course with your date being someone else, and they were usually a blast. But with your longest crush sitting diagonally from you, casually munching on his fries, you were about to faint.

    “Seriously, Margaret literally shot her bubble tea out of her nose..."

    Is there something on my face? Did I not powder enough? Did I come too bare-faced? Do I at least look presentable enough? A strong but delicate pair of warm hands slipped into yours, stopping your train of thought. You cast your eyes upon your trustworthy friend and were immediately calmed down. He leaned near your face and whispered, “Don’t worry. You look beautiful tonight”, sending shivers down your spine. When he pulled away, he kept his eyes on you with the most caring, affectionate look he had ever had and caressed the back of your hands ever so gently, sending another wave of the tingling sensation.

    The evening moonlight shone through the life-sized window and illuminated his perfectly proportioned face. A rush of warmth spread throughout your cold body, your heart slowly picking up its pace again. What was this surfacing feeling, this exciting and pleasant fondness? You were entranced by not only his beauty but also by his soft, passionate gaze. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at you that way, or the time he had ever looked at you with such warmth. He sent you a smile that matched his eyes before prying his eyes off of you, effectively beginning your silent desperate plea to have him have his eyes only on you but also effectively having the comfort and homeliness in your heart linger.

    “Okay, I know your lover boy is next to you, but we’re right here.” Pulling you out of your trance, your friend sweetly smiled at your lost expression when your eyes landed on her. “I asked if you wanted an ice cream brownie sundae.”

    With the image of Jaehyun still marked in your head, you mindlessly nodded. A light chuckle left the lips from an unexpected person. For the first time that night, you had your eyes on Mark.

    “When did you guys first meet?” the younger boy asked with curiosity settling in his eyes.

    The question had you startled. You hadn’t prepared for a question like that. Did you need to come up with some fake romantic story or not? You had no idea.

    “Our professor had partnered us up,” Jaehyun spoke. “And she had my attention with her adorably weird mushroom t-shirt.” You heard your friend sigh in awe of the recount while you listened attentively. “After time had gone by, the feelings were platonic, but after going out with other girls and having her help me with them, I realized that no one knew me better or got my heart beating faster than she.”

    Every single word had you anticipate the next. Every word that spilled out of his mouth sounded too good to be true, but they all sounded sincere. And the chance to meet the eyes of your steadfast friend came again. You heard your own heart beating. There it was, that longing gaze that drilled into your soul.

    “But I didn’t think she had interest in me.”

    His eyes darted back and forth, searching for a response--any response. You wanted to believe that he was speaking the truth, if those words were, in fact, his own feelings, because if he wasn’t, what you said next would have been very foolish of you.

    “I did.”

    The moonlight shone even more brightly and you didn’t have to look at Jaehyun to see it. The night whisked away with tales and laughter, your friend doing most of the talking. By the time everyone was ready to leave and Jaehyun and your friend were using the restroom, a newfound feeling of content sank in. Your new black-haired friend quietly drummed his fingers on the surface of the smooth marble counter, lightly bobbing his head to The Beach Boys playing in the stereo system. You admired his wonderful features and was reminded of his amazing personality. How someone could be as perfect as him yet still be a complete dork was unknown to you. And so were the feelings of strong yearning. They vanished into the starry night.

    “‘Help Me, Rhonda’ is pretty good, isn’t it?”

    At the sound of your voice, the younger boy casted his gaze upon you. A delighted smile appeared on his face as he said, “Now that would be an understatement.”

    You laughed softly and joined him with his head-bobbing session, adding your feet by rhythmically tapping every second. When the other two came out, casually disrupting your quiet groove, you and Jaehyun naturally parted ways with the real couple. As the two of you headed for the beach to catch the last day of a firework event, the breeze carried on the tranquility of the night. Each step you took was light--you weren’t even reading into Jaehyun’s actions that night. You were simply content. Watching the brightly-colored fireworks crisply crackle, your hand bumping into Jaehyun’s every so now and then, you wished that feeling would last forever. When you pointed at your favorite pattern of fireworks and laid your arm to your side, instead of your knuckles bouncing off of Jaehyun’s, it was enveloped by the warmth of his hand. His eyes weren’t watching the fireworks anymore: they were concentrated on the serene waves of the glossy ocean. You stared at his impenetrable gaze.

    “Did you,” he began to say, “did you really mean what you said back there? That you had an interest in me?” 

    He kept his gaze steadily on the waves. It was as if he didn’t want to see your reaction, yet was waiting for an answer. You squeezed his hand lightly. 

     “I did.” 

     The sound of the fireworks faded, taken over by the calm, chilly breeze. Jaehyun’s tender eyes met yours. Instead of being overwhelmed by the affectionate gaze, you returned it and with a smile. So there you two stood, staring at each other wordlessly with such attraction no one could deny. You watched Jaehyun’s eyes flicker down to your lips before retreating back to your eyes. Little by little, he inched closer to your face, no longer holding your gaze, but staring at your lips. And little by little, your heart picked up the pace, but you knew you had to break the elephant in the room, so you pressed your forehead against his and gave yourself a moment to say, “Jaehyun, we’re friends.” 

     And with your foreheads being the barriers to any other sort of skinship, he let out in a low, hushed voice, “Is that all we can ever be?” 

     He took your hands in his and swung them in small circles. Once the last bit of the fireworks ended, you called out his name so softly that it came out as a whisper, and you saw the sincerity and quiet desperation that filled his eyes. You slowly freed your fingers and let them under the purple strands of Jaehyun’s hair, smoothly combing through them. Then you let your hands linger onto his face, tracing his masculine features. 

     “You’re right,” you breathed out at last, locking your eyes with the patient man. “Your hair is the softest.” 

     The both of you broke into goofy grins, not long before you closed the gap of the space that was left in between. 

... 

     The increasing chatter as you stepped out of your philosophy class and into the large hallway was fitting for the new semester, with the incoming freshmen buzzing with excitement and nervousness. It was at that moment when a pair of relatively large hands slipped into yours. You didn’t even have to spare a glance to see who it was--the sides of your lips instantly tugged upwards. 

     “Ready for that date?” a now tinted purple-haired guy announced. 

     A smirk found its way to your lips as you said, “Let’s go kick some ass.”      

     You and your four-month old boyfriend were on the way to a double date with Mark and your friend at the annual carnival downtown. The adorable couple laughed, had their hands all over each other, and whispered to each other, but your eyes were only glued to the man you loved, the man with the soft, fainted purple hair.