#burning crossroads

[estbela]

Look! I even created a moodboard for The Fic.

I also regret everything.

Random thoughts (that I swear that in some manner relate to the fanfic)

This came to me in a dream, or rather, a daydream, during physics class.

The only magical creature I've ever seen Ro depicted as was obviously the vampire, so I decided that Ro ought to be literally anything else. And I like the concept of the iele, so this happened.

writing is fun but you better watch out for The Consequences (the consequences being sleep deprivation and if you already have a cold, like me, to worsen your cold somehow. Again, i regret everything)

I love putting Bulgaria through The Horrors. :]

This might have a continuation, it might not. I have...rough ideas in which I continue to put our protagonists in Situations. :)

You know shit's fucked when Serbia is the more well-adjusted individual (kind of).

The iele have a wikipedia page and mroe info about them on a lot of other places besides wikipedia if you wanna know more about them! :]

This might be badly written and slightly OOC at parts, so apologies for that. Idk Im kinda new to writing.

...that's it! :D

[lightdancingwords]

Crossroads of the Heart - Part One of ?

Pairings: CJ Braxton x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: Y/N is a psychology major assigned to shadow CJ at The Stand, unaware he's the one who basically saved her life four years before. CJ is unaware that she's the one who left a notable impact on him over the phone four years ago. As they navigate the work at The Stand, they develop a spark that demands revelation and connection.

Word Count: 3,145

Tags/Warnings: Angst (so much angst), depression, mentions self-unaliving (sorry!), passing of parent

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Evidently my muse won't shut up, so here we go! A new story in a new setting! I hope you all enjoy!

Note: The poem is obviously from Taylor Swift's "Snow On The Beach"! I do not claim it, only used it for the sake of the story! In fact, it inspired a bit of this series!

Dividers: credit to @saradika-graphics

Chapter One: Four Years Ago

“The Stand, teen helpline, how can I help you tonight?” CJ said automatically as soon as he picked up the phone ringing by his desk.

Y/N hesitated. Did she actually dare to speak? Did she dare to try and get help? The silence stretched out, and she wasn’t sure how to begin.

“I—I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she finally said.

“It's okay,” CJ said. “Let’s take a breath. Why did you call?” The soft tone was comforting.

Y/N closed her eyes tight, trying to articulate her messed up feelings. She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “Um… l-last year, my mom died. And today was…” She couldn’t even say it.

“The anniversary?” CJ said gently, having a suspicion of what she was driving at.

“Yeah,” she whispered into the phone. “It’s also my birthday.” The tears began to spill unhindered. “Yay… happy birthday, right?”

“Birthdays can be tough,” CJ said empathetically. “Especially if it reminds you of a loss. Do you have any plans for the day, maybe distract yourself?”

“N-not really,” she admitted.

“It’s okay. Sometimes the best distraction is just talking to someone. You’re not alone—you’ve got me,” CJ said, giving a small smile, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“No offense, but you’re paid to do this,” she replied. “Doesn’t quite make it altruistic of you.”

“True, I am paid to listen,” CJ said, “But it still doesn't mean I’m just going to be going through the motions. And I’m sure I’m not the only one at The Stand who actually cares about a little more than a paycheck.”

Y/N winced. He was trying to be nice and she just kept wrecking it. She sniffed again and whispered, “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” CJ said, still talking in a soft and soothing tone. “I won’t try to guilt you for feeling the things you do, and I’m not going to expect you to be over your mother’s death immediately.”

“You’d be the first then,” she said bitterly. “My father already remarried.”

CJ could tell she’s holding back some bitter feelings. “I'm assuming he did it quite quickly?” CJ sighed.

“Yeah, pretty much.” She sniffed, wished she could stop crying. “Tried to get me to come to the wedding and I didn’t want to. Instead of talking to me, he… he threatened my college fund. Because god forbid Henry L/N actually bother to talk to his daughter. Or grieve with her. Or even just… or even wish me a happy birthday.”

CJ couldn’t help but to feel a little bit of anger towards her father for how he behaved towards her. “Sounds like he's a real piece of work,” CJ said. “No wonder he had to go and remarry immediately. He probably can't deal with being alone.”

That actually got a chuckle out of her. “God, no. He’s absolutely helpless when it takes to taking care of anything.”

“Let me guess,” CJ said, giving a small chuckle as well. “Your mom did all the housework, cooking, grocery shopping, and general upkeep.”

“She even fixed the cars,” she said, and there was a tinge of awe and respect for her late mother.

“It sounds like your mom was quite the woman,” CJ said, “I’m sorry for your loss, and the... unfortunate change in your relationship with your father. That can make things complicated.”

“It… it wouldn’t be so bad if my father just pretended to care. He doesn’t even do that.” She let out a long sigh. “He wants me to study business so I can excel and all that crap.”

“Sounds like he’s just planning his next inheritance,” CJ said, “What about you? What do you want to study?”

Rachel was silent for a moment. “Um. This is going to sound dumb.” She cleared her throat. “I want to be a writer.”

“A writer? I think that sounds great!" CJ said quickly, giving an encouraging little laugh. “Don’t let your dad convince you to do something that's just going to make him look good. You should be able to decide what path is best for you, not just something that makes your parent proud of you.”

“I don’t even know I’m any good,” she said, protesting weakly.

“Well the only way to find out is to try,” CJ said with a soft smile, “Are you currently trying to pursue writing? Or is your dad pressuring you not to?”

She hesitated again. “I…” She bit her lip. “You know the college newspaper? The Explorer?”

“Yeah?” CJ said, recognizing the name of the student-run local newspaper. “What about it?”

“They’re having a contest.” She picked at a piece of lint on her blanket. “I… didn’t tell my father but I sent in a submission for a poem. I find out tomorrow if I win.”

“Well,” CJ said with a soft smile, not wanting to get her hopes up just in case. “I hope you win. It sounds like he’s not been very supportive of your writing—did he just tell you not to pursue it at all?”

“Basically, he said I should live with my feet on the ground and not in the clouds,” she said with a scoff.

“Well, I think he’s wrong,” CJ said quickly. “You should be able to chase your dreams, and if he doesn’t support you, I’m sure there’s tons of other people out there who would love to take his place. I bet you’re a wonderful writer, and I wouldn’t be shocked if you win.”

“You don’t even know what I wrote,” she argued half-heatedly. “How could you be so sure of that?”

“Well, I just have a hunch,” CJ said. “You’re articulate, and I’m sure your poem is full of emotion. Do you mind telling me what your poem is about?”

“It’s about what seems to be impossible, like snow on the beach. Seeing something so special and rare and incredible,” she said timidly, feeling a bit embarrassed to tell him about it.

CJ was intrigued by this, and he could appreciate the poetic quality. “That sounds like an amazing subject,” he encouraged. “When did you write this poem? I’m sure you’ve worked hard on it.”

“It was something I worked on for the last few months,” she admitted. “I kept trying it over and over. I sent in the final draft just hours shy of the deadline. I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“Well, I think your hard work shows,” CJ said. “I just have this gut feeling that it’ll be good enough—and even if it’s not, you can always just keep improving. You know what they say: Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

She chuckled. “I could easily counter that supposedly God built the world in six days. But I get your point.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure about how long it took for the world to be built,” CJ said, amused at her remark. “But what I meant was, you can’t create something amazing instantly—you have to just keep working on it. And from the way you’ve described this poem, it seems like you’ve put your heart and soul into making it.”

“I did,” she said softly. “My mom was the dreamer. She was an amazing artist. Actually duplicated the look of the stag from Bambi. And she did it from memory.”

“That sounds like quite the talent,” CJ said, impressed. “Did you ever take after her? Do you do any art?”

“I can do Hangman stick people really well,” she said by way of answer.

CJ gave a little chuckle in response to her answer. “So what are your plans for tomorrow?” CJ asked. “I assume you’ll be checking to see if you won the contest?”

“Definitely that,” she said. “They announce the winners in the morning edition so I may just be up with the birds at why-six-o-clock and run to the nearest newsstand.”

CJ chuckled at her description. “Just hearing you say that makes me think even more that you’re going to do really well. What are you going to do if you do win?”

“Um, you mean besides faint?” she asked.

CJ gave a small laugh. “That’s one way to react, I guess,” he said. “If you were to win, would you consider continuing to pursue writing and submitting other works for contests in the future?”

Evidently that never occurred to her. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t even think that far.”

CJ gave a soft smile. “Well, I think it’d be great if you did,’ he said. “Whether it’s writing poetry, essays, short stories—whatever takes your fancy, I think you should consider submitting for more contests. I bet you’d do really well.”

She smiled faintly. “Maybe.” She paused, then said, “I guess I just didn’t think beyond just making it past today.”

CJ seemed to take notice of the hint of sadness in her voice. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know being stuck in the present is something a lot of people go through—it’s easy to fall into the mindset of just surviving every day.”

“It’s… it’s been really hard.” Did she dare tell him? Should she? It would change everything for her, even as far as her whole life.

CJ could tell that there’s more going on here, but given that it was her decision, he was not going to force her to tell him anything just yet. “Can I ask you a quick question?”

“Um. Sure.”

“Does anyone else know about this poem you sent it?” CJ asked.

“No… just you,” she admitted.

“Can I make a request?” he said.

Rachel blinked. “Sure… I guess.”

“Since it seems like you care a lot about this poem…” he started to say. “Would you mind reading it to me?”

That surprised her. “You want to hear the poem?”

“If that’s okay with you,” CJ said. “I’d love to hear the poem you've been working on.”

After a long moment of astonishment, some rustling of papers could be heard. Then she took deep breath.

“One night, a few moons ago I saw flecks of what could’ve been lights But it might have been you Passing by unbeknownst to me Life is emotionally abusive And time can’t stop me quite like you did And it’s like snow at the beach Weird but fuckin’ beautiful Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful You wanting me tonight feels impossible But it’s coming down, no sound, it’s all around I searched the aurora borealis green I’ve never seen someone lit from within Burning out my periphery It’s fine to take it until you make it Til you do, til it’s true”

CJ was completely immersed in the poem. It’s not his usual fare—usually the poems he heard from the helpline were full of hopeless feelings and misery, nothing like the more optimistic tone of this one. It’s almost like it was meant to be read out loud—it had the perfect rhythm and flow.

“Wow…” he finally said, his soft smile growing wider. “That was incredible.”

Rachel found herself blushing, glad he can’t see her through the phone. “Thank you,” she said shyly.

“Honestly,” CJ said earnestly. “If you do win, I hope you stick with writing poetry. It makes me happy that there are still some people out there who want to try and see the world through a brighter perspective.” He paused. “Is it really okay if I ask another question?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said in regards to the first part, about continuing poetry. “And um, sure, ask.”

“Are you open to my honest opinion on the poem?”

She hesitated, then went for it. “Yes.”

“Well...” CJ took a deep breath, hesitating on how he should phrase what he wanted to say. “I know you said you were trying to get it right, but I just wanted to let you know—I think that it’s perfect already. It doesn’t need to be edited or made better—it’s already flawless.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I… wow. That… that was really nice of you.”

“It's honest,” he said. “And I just think that you should know that.”

She smiled shakily, then glanced down at her lap. “Can… can I tell you something?”

CJ’s smile widens, giving an encouraging nod. “Of course, I’m all ears.”

She cleared her throat, deciding to be fully honest. “I… I didn’t know what was going to happen w-when I called The Stand. I was… just in a bad spot and scaring myself.”

CJ didn’t let on the fact that he could’ve guessed that, considering the state she was in when she first started talking to him. “Well, I’m glad you called—even if you didn’t know it was going to help you. But are you still in that bad spot? You said you were frightening yourself—what do you mean by that?”

There was a long, quiet pause. “I… I was thinking of… of ending it.”

CJ can’t help but feel concerned and a little shocked when he heard that. “You were considering...” He trails off, not being able to say it.

She sniffed and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah…. I even… I even got a bottle of… something.”

His body tensed a bit when she said that. “Can I be honest with you?”

“…yeah,” she answered softly. Hesitant as to what he would say.

He took deep breath. “That really terrifies me. I don’t want that to be a path that you go down, because that’s the path where the light gets shut off forever—and it sounds like you have so much light left to show the world. What made you think about ending it?”

The tears came at once, flooding her vision. “I was just…” Her voice shook, thick with emotion. “I was just so tired of hurting. I’m all alone here at the college and… it just feels dark.”

CJ was heartbroken to heard her like this. He knew that there were probably many more students like this out there—lost, sad, and alone. He’s experienced plenty of dark days himself, though never quite to this point.

“I know the feeling," he said solemnly. “I know the feeling when it feels like it’s just going to hurt forever, and when it seems like the walls are closing in around you.”

“That’s why I called,” she whispered over the phone. “It felt like I was drowning.”

“Well, I’m glad you called,” CJ said quickly. “Because if you didn’t, you might have actually gone through with...”

He trails off, not wanting to say the words out loud like she did, not wanting to put the idea in her mind.

“The thing is—I know you’re in a really dark spot right now,” he continued softly. “But it really seems like you have the potential to do incredible things if you hang in there. You’ve got to give yourself another chance, just like this poem.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she admitted shakily. “It just feels really lonely and dark. I don’t have friends here. Hell, even the guy I’m crushing on doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

“Yeah, it does sound like you’re in a pretty bad spot,” CJ admitted, sympathizing with her about the lack of friends. “And you’re saying you have a crush on a guy but he doesn’t even know who you are?”

“Yeah.” She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “He’s in my English 203 class.”

“And what’s so special about him that makes you have a crush on him?” CJ asked, trying to understand.

“He’s… he’s got this smile that seriously lights up a room,” she said hesitatingly. If she knew she was talking to the very guy she was crushing on, Y/N would’ve fainted. Or screamed and hung up.

“And he’s in your English class? He must be pretty smart then, right?”

“I think so anyway,” she said. “He’s got this self-deprecation thing going on, as though he feels he isn’t.”

CJ laughed at this—it sounded a lot like his own way of coping. “I get it,” he said with a sympathetic laugh, though he didn’t reveal that that’s how he saw himself as well.

“And he’s got a nice smile as well, and he’s smart?” he continued, trying to imagine who could fit this description so perfectly.

“Yeah… and really nice. He’s usually the first to jump up and help if the professor asks for it,” she said. “I like that. He’s not even doing it to butter her up either.”

“And he’s kind? It sounds almost like you’re not even talking about a college student, but some angelic being,” he teased, his curiosity growing as they discuss this unknown man. “Like something out of a fairy tale.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious why you have a crush on this guy—he sounds like the full package,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said with a despondent sigh.

“Listen,” CJ said gently, “maybe he doesn’t know you like him. He could be crushing on you too and you both aren’t aware of it.”

She let out a soft laugh. “You mean like a rom-com?”

“Yeah! You never know.” He smiled a bit. “You’ve got a lot going on for you… don’t give up, please.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, sniffled, and wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” she said shakily, her voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” CJ asked, his voice low and soft. “For listening. I know it won’t fix everything, but… it helped me,” Y/N whispered. “Thank you.”

CJ felt his heart clench. She sounded like a sweet girl who was just in a bad spot. If it hadn’t been against the rules, he would reach out to her outside of the helpline, be a friend, hell, maybe even date her because she sounded so incredible.

“You’re very welcome,” he whispered. “If you ever need to talk to someone… we’re here. I’m here.”

Y/N smiled tremulously. “I’ll remember that.” She took another breath. “Thank you, again…. G-goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

The line went quiet. CJ hated himself so much in that moment. He didn’t get her name. He didn’t know who the guy in English 203 she was talking about, her crush. He… didn’t even get her phone number.

The next morning, he went out and grabbed a copy of The Explorer to see if the girl won. He saw her poem, Snow On The Beach, as the winner. But no name. They only put her initials. He cut it out, framed it no less, and kept it by his desk at The Stand.

Absurdly, for the next four years, he would obsessively answer every call, wondering if it was her. He never forgot her.

And when Y/N came into The Stand for her practicum, he didn’t know it was her—and she didn’t know it was him.

To be continued….

Tag List:

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series! Or you can use my tag list!

[post-it-notes7]

Thinking about how you put mir Dragato and mir Falspar on opposite sides regarding shattering. The- the drama-.. Dragato seemed sympathetic enough towards Falspar regarding his cracks. But I'm just imagining one of the few people Falspar trusted with that information hurting him by not understanding "why don't you just get over it?"

Aha, good catch there anon. Mir Dragato doesn't understand why Mir Falspar won't just tell him about it, they've established trust between one another already, haven't they? Mir Falspar, on the other hand, knows exactly why he can't. He's alone in his thinking; it's unlikely anyone will understand, much less Mir Dragato, and admitting that will only add insult to an already raw injury. Better to keep it under wraps. Better to pretend nothing has changed at all. Better to shove Mir Dragato away and let him find someone, or something else.

[gothicprep]

I think the most depressing thing that’s happened in my life over the past couple of months is watching an otherwise intelligent friend descend into paranoia and conspiracy. maybe ex friend now, because I don’t feel all that inclined to talk to him these days, but it’s still sad to be a bystander to this who can’t help even if you try to intervene.

[nevarran-hahren]

VEILGUARD SPOILERS

I'm level 31 currently, attempting to fight a level 50 boss and starting to wonder if all those smaller boss fights that I was way under-leveled for but beat by the skin of my teeth should've been a warning to slow down lol

[oatmilk-vampire]

Residential crossroads stop sign, burned and melted, revealing just the word "top" remaining.

[incorrectquotesideas-deactivated]

Person A, an alcoholic: [leaves an empty bottle of vodka on the crossroad a block away from their house while making their walk of shame at 7 AM]

Person A, to themselves: I wonder if Person C will notice I’m drunk.

Person B: Oh, so, you’re the reason Person D wouldn’t give me a ride today? Because they want to punish you?

Person A: Yeah.

Person B: Wow. Why won’t they just get a drink and chill, fucking Christ.

Person A: WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!

[taylorliveperformances]

Taylor Swift and Def Leppard performing Picture to Burn for CMT Crossroads on November 7, 2008.

[ljf613]

Leftover sales for @crossroadszine are open, which means that I can now share my Yue x La fic, New Moon's Rising, with y'all. (The full fic can be read here.)

“Excuse me, have you seen m-” She tries to say my husband, but the words catch in her throat. There’s been no wedding. They’ve neither joined hands nor shared a cup. There will be no children. (At least, she doesn’t think so-- she’s not sure if spirits can even have children.) She hasn’t even met him, not properly. And yet, they’re married. That knowledge has been carved onto her heart-- she knows the truth of it as well as she knows her own name. The Moon and the Ocean have been bound together since time immemorial. And she is the Moon now.

(The lovely fanart is courtesy of @taizei-draws!)

[b4ldurians-archive]

MULTICHARACTER META : ON GENDER &. RELATION TO THE BODY

godric , halsin , kythus , nocturne , orion , raphael , shadowheart , visan , &. wyll are not cis. below are details on their difference journeys to understanding their genders &. what that may look like for them physically as well.

GODRIC : he knew from a very young age that he was trans. his family was very supportive &. aided in him in magically transitioning once they could afford it. his parents also offered to have his birth name removed from their memories so they couldn't deadname him , but he declined as he still felt a sense of connection to it as a part of his past. will punch anyone that uses it though.

HALSIN : has no real feelings on gender nor does he feel connected to being amab. typically defaults to masculine pronouns , but you can call him anything &. he's fine with it.

KYTHUS : knew early on they weren't fully a man. they felt nervous explaining to their family , as being the sole tiefling in the house already set them apart from the others , but they were happily accepted. he experiences little body dysmorphia &. while he prefers gender neutral terms , is more than okay with masculine ones as well.

NOCTURNE : it took some time for her to realize she was trans but was wholeheartedly &. confidently for it. while she did transition , &. it was something she majorly wanted to feel more comfortable in her body , there was some pushback as indicated by the diary entry you can find in act 3. i don't think it was widespread , just a select few who then got their asses handed to them for it.

ORION : doesn't give a shit about their gender or their presentation &. never really has. the orphanage didn't have opinions one way or another. being of elven descent helps with the androgynous vibes but they decided to do the equivalent of top &. bottom surgery when they were on their own as an adult , the first for appearance comfort &. the latter for convenience. they accept any pronouns , defaults to gender neutral language , &. love when people stumble over what to address them by. gender is a game &. they're winning.

RAPHAEL : he can choose his form &. typically prefers a masculine appearance , but occasionally presents other ways when he feels like it. considers himself genderfluid &. male.

SHADOWHEART : loosest of connections to feminine presentation &. her assigned gender. doesn't have a preference for pronouns but will occasionally refer to themself in a gender neutral fashion &. everyone else must accept that or not survive the winter. sometimes binds her chest if she's feeling it.

VISAN : born afab but has no desire to change anything about his body. still likes to dress in a feminine style as well ! it was a decision that came shortly before he left his people so anyone he used to know may not be aware of this change , as it was also quite gradual.

WYLL : knew when he was a teenager he wasn't cis but took some time to accept this about himself &. what it meant. boldly came out to his father in fear of rejection , but was meant with acceptance even if the duke may not have fully understood. didn't transition until after he was disowned but did present as a man before this. very happy in his body now.

[estbela]

Some of the creative liberties that I've taken when depicting the iele in the story is that, realistically, Dimitar and Dragan would have probably not survived the encounter with them. The iele are like some sort of overpowered nymphs who may attack men for a number of reasons, that differ from story to story. For example, some iele get pissed off by men merely seeing them dance, while some get angry if a man copies their dance or refuses to dance with them if asked.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Stuck on the idea of vampires as a kind of reverse fae, or like someone's twisted, perverse attempt at moulding humans into fae.

They're repelled by liminal spaces.

A vampire could never enter fairyland, not just because they'd never be welcomed, but because most of the usual entry-ways are naturally barred to them.

They can't cross running water. They can't be seen in mirrors. They will wait forever at a crossroads, unable to pick a direction to go in. They can't even step over a thresh-hold unless there is absolutely no ambiguity about whether they are welcome inside.

They crave human blood, iron and salt, but are repelled by herbs and plants. They are supernaturally prevented from harming you unless the rules of hospitality have been invoked.

A fairy may replace your newborn child with something unnatural and ever-hungry. A vampire will do the same, but with your grandmother's corpse.

The fae are typically associated, even in stories where they're the bad guys, with flourishing and purity. Vampires, even in stories where they're the good guys, are typically associated with decay and corruption.

The fae turn ancient human burial mounds into fancy halls for their courts. Vampires take ancient human castles and let them grow mildewed and cobwebbed, exchanging the beds for coffins, turning them into burial places.

Fae don't tend to live among humans, but can generally pass for them with relative ease if they so choose. Vampires nearly always live among humans, but tend to find not revealing themselves a huge struggle.

I can't think of many stories I've read where fae and vampires even exist in the same universe, let alone ones where they actively interact. I feel like their enmity is almost more inevitable than that between vampires and werewolves, however.

The rivalry between vampires and werewolves is, essentially, the rivalry between two apex predator species who share a territory. (Even in stories where the werewolves aren't actually hunting humans.)

The vampires hate the werewolves because the werewolves interfere with their access to prey. The werewolves hate the vampires either because they consider themselves aligned with humans (the prey species), or because they are also predators and the vampires are competing with them.

By comparison, I think there's some story potential in the fae finding something genuinely creepy and uncanny valley about vampires.

They're immortal, like them, but also dead. They can be beautiful, like them, but that beauty is something they actively require humans to sustain. They like to inhabit beautiful and ancient ex-human dwellings, like them, but they actively work to make those places dark, damp and empty.

Fairies who are unflappable in the face of all sorts of Otherworldly monsters, can look an eldritch horror in the eye(s) without blinking, and have never been phased yet by any human, but will recoil from even the weakest vampire.

Vampires who hate fairies just as much, but in a more envious way. The way that the creature for whom immortality is a curse is bound to hate the creatures for whom immortality is an eternity of sunlight and laughter.

Maybe their touches burn each other. Maybe vampires can't stand physical contact with anything so alive and vital. Maybe immortal fairies become ill from too much exposure to the undead.

Maybe they fight over the human population when their territories overlap. The fairy need for servants and people to make deals with, competing with the vampire need for thralls and blood to drink.

Just… fairies and vampires. We need more stories about them interacting.

[lightdancingwords]

Crossroads of the Heart - Part Three of ?

Pairings: CJ Braxton x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: Y/N is a psychology major assigned to shadow CJ at The Stand, unaware he's the one who basically saved her life four years before. CJ is unaware that she's the one who left a notable impact on him over the phone four years ago. As they navigate the work at The Stand, they develop a spark that demands revelation and connection.

Word Count: 3,354

Tags/Warnings: It is a call center helpline, so we have angst, depression, mention of self-harm, mention of su*cide, but nothing graphic. Maybe light fluff?

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Evidently my muse won't shut up, so here we go! A new story in a new setting! I hope you all enjoy!

Dividers: credit to @saradika-graphics

Chapter Three: The First Time

CJ arrived at The Stand early, as he always did, his coffee still steaming as he scanned the day’s schedule. He saw Savannah, the night shift manager, as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. The change of the shift was occurring, with staffers and volunteers coming and going. “Good morning, Savannah,” he greeted with a smile.

She grunted. “Good night, CJ,” she muttered.

He chuckled as she departed. He headed to his desk; Savannah and Sam, the second shift manager, had their own, largely to keep The Stand as organized as possible. The framed poem on his desk caught his eye, and as he often did, he wondered about the girl who had written it—the girl who called him four years ago. He had no way of knowing who she was or what had become of her, but the thought of her lingered as it always did, a quiet reminder of why he did this work.

The sound of the front door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Y/N stepping inside, clutching her ever-present notebook. There was something about her—the way she carried herself, gentle but determined—that caught his attention every time.

“Morning,” CJ greeted, setting his mug down. “Right on time. Ready to dive in?”

She nodded, her smile tinged with nervous energy. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

CJ motioned for her to sit at the corner of cubicle row. He had already set up a headset for her. “Good. Here’s the plan: You’ll be shadowing me on calls. You’ll listen in with this headset,” he said, handing it to her, “and take notes on anything that stands out. No pressure—just observe, absorb, and ask questions if something doesn’t make sense.”

“Got it,” she said, sliding the headset on. Y/N settled in, slipping the headset on and flipping open her notebook. CJ couldn’t help but notice the way she meticulously prepared, her pen poised over the page. It was the kind of focus he admired.

The first call came in almost immediately, and CJ slipped into his well-worn rhythm. “The Stand, teen helpline. This is CJ. How can I help you today?”

The voice on the other end was hesitant, shaky. CJ listened closely, his expression softening. The caller—a teenager struggling with academic pressure—spoke in fragmented sentences, their words carrying the weight of self-doubt.

“That’s a lot to carry,” CJ said gently. “It sounds like you’re feeling really overwhelmed. It’s okay to feel that way—it doesn’t mean you’re failing.”

The caller paused, then began to open up more, sharing feelings of isolation and the fear of disappointing their family. CJ mirrored their words back carefully, offering validation without judgment.

As the conversation unfolded, CJ could feel Y/N’s attention on him. She was jotting notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. He didn’t acknowledge it but found himself wanting to set a good example—not for his pride, but because he could tell she was invested in learning.

By the time the call ended, the teenager on the other end seemed lighter, their voice steadier. CJ removed his headset and turned to Y/N. “Alright,” he said, leaning back slightly. “First impressions?”

Y/N hesitated, then said, “You’re really... patient. The way you let them take their time, and how you didn’t try to fix everything at once—it was impressive.”

CJ smiled faintly. “Thanks. That’s the trick with these calls. It’s not about solving everything; it’s about giving them the space to feel heard. Most of the time, that’s what people need the most.”

Around them, the other volunteers and staff were fielding phone calls. On average, he had at least twenty people in the building at a time. The Stand was designed only for the Boston Bay College, but he hoped, someday, to expand it to cover the city.

The second call came in shortly after. This time, it was someone grappling with a recent breakup. CJ’s tone shifted slightly, adopting a more conversational rhythm while maintaining his compassionate approach. He offered empathy, helping the caller untangle their emotions without rushing them.

Y/N scribbled furiously in her notebook, her focus unwavering. CJ noticed her glance at him every so often, her expression thoughtful. He found himself wanting to ask what she was thinking but decided to wait until later.

The third call of the morning brought a brief moment of humor—a young person venting about the chaos of choosing an outfit for a date. CJ handled it with a lighthearted tone, managing to ease the caller’s anxiety while also getting a chuckle out of them. Y/N, too, smiled as she listened.

When the line disconnected, CJ stretched and glanced at the clock. A couple of hours had passed, and the buzz of the early morning rush was starting to fade.

���Let’s take a break,” he said, removing his headset and leaning back in his chair. “How are you holding up so far?”

Y/N smiled, setting down her pen. “I’m good. It’s a lot to take in, but I feel like I’m learning so much.”

“Good,” CJ said, nodding. “You’re doing great so far. Grab a coffee or some water, and we’ll pick up again in a few.”

As she stepped away to grab a drink, CJ watched her for a moment, the quiet focus she carried leaving an impression. He’d worked with plenty of practicum students over the years, but there was something about Y/N’s presence that felt... different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he didn’t mind the mystery.

Shaking the thought away, he turned back to his desk and the steady flow of work waiting for him. They’d barely scratched the surface of the day, but he already knew it would be one to remember.

CJ glanced at the clock as Y/N returned to her seat, coffee in hand. The morning had already flown by, and he could tell by her steady composure that she was starting to settle into the rhythm. She adjusted her headset and gave him a nod, signaling she was ready.

“Alright,” CJ said, putting his headset back on. “Let’s dive back in.”

The first call after the break was a tough one—a young person struggling with grief after losing a grandparent. CJ’s voice softened as he guided the conversation, offering space for the caller to share memories and express their sadness without rushing them.

“It’s okay to miss them,” CJ said, his tone steady but empathetic. “It’s also okay to feel happy when you think about them. Grief isn’t just one thing—it’s a mix of emotions, and they’re all valid.”

Y/N was scribbling again, her pen moving quickly across the page. CJ glanced at her briefly, noticing the way her lips pressed together in thought as she wrote. When the call ended, she looked up, her eyes curious.

“How do you stay so calm?” she asked. “That was... a lot.”

CJ leaned back slightly, thinking. “It’s about perspective. When someone calls, they’re looking for an anchor. If I let myself get swept up in their emotions, I can’t be that for them. It takes practice, though. Believe me, I wasn’t always this steady.”

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “You mean when you started here?”

“Yeah,” CJ said with a chuckle. “I used to overthink everything. It wasn’t until I learned to trust the process—and myself—that I found my footing.”

She nodded, jotting something down in her notebook. He wanted to ask what she’d written but decided to let her keep her thoughts private.

The next call was an entirely different energy—a boy calling to share that he’d worked up the courage to talk to his crush. CJ leaned forward, grinning as he encouraged the caller to share every detail.

“That’s a big step,” he said warmly. “How’d it go?”

The boy described his nervous stammering and how his crush had laughed—not at him, but kindly—and said yes to a movie. Y/N smiled as she listened, her eyes lighting up at the wholesome story.

When the call ended, CJ looked over at her. “Not all the calls are heavy,” he said, still smiling. “Sometimes, we get to celebrate with them.”

“That was... really sweet,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “You seemed just as excited as he was.”

“It’s a good reminder,” CJ said. “We don’t just help people out of dark places—we get to share their wins, too.”

The final call before lunch was one CJ had anticipated: a parent struggling to connect with their teenager. It was a dynamic he’d seen often, and he approached it with his usual patience, offering advice on active listening and creating a safe space for communication.

Y/N observed closely, her pen hovering over her notebook. When CJ suggested small steps, like sharing a simple meal without distractions or asking open-ended questions, she nodded, clearly impressed by his practical approach.

As the call ended, CJ turned to her. “Okay, before I forget—any questions about that one?”

Y/N hesitated, then asked, “How do you stay neutral? You could have easily taken sides, but you didn’t.”

CJ smiled faintly. “Because it’s not about sides. It’s about helping both people see each other better. If I take sides, I’m not doing my job.”

“That makes sense,” Y/N said, jotting down more notes. “I’m learning so much just from watching you.”

CJ rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed by the compliment. “You’re a quick study,” he said. “You’ll be handling calls like a pro in no time.”

The lunch hour crept closer, and CJ leaned back in his chair as he noticed her finishing up her notes. “Alright, let’s call it for now. Grab some lunch and take a breather. We’ll pick it up in an hour.”

Y/N stood, stretching slightly. “Thanks, CJ. This has been... eye-opening.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Glad to hear it. You’re doing great so far.”

As she stepped out of the room, CJ let out a small sigh, leaning back in his chair. It was only midday, but he already felt the shift in the day’s tone. Something about Y/N’s presence—her focus, her thoughtful questions—made him feel like he was seeing his work through fresh eyes.

And, for the first time in a while, he didn’t mind having someone to share the weight of it with. He looked forward to the afternoon ahead, knowing she’d be right there, learning and growing alongside him.

After lunch, CJ and Y/N returned to their seats. The afternoon started quietly enough, but as the hours wore on, the calls began to take a heavier tone.

The first was a teenager admitting to self-harm, their voice trembling as they described the isolation they felt at school. CJ handled the call with his usual calm and compassion, guiding the conversation while gently offering resources and support. Y/N sat beside him, her notes forgotten as she listened, her hands gripping her notebook tightly.

During a brief pause, CJ leaned back in his chair. “So, what brought you here?” he asked casually. “Why The Stand?”

Y/N glanced down at her notebook, her fingers brushing the edges. “I’ve always wanted to help people,” she said softly. “I think sometimes, all it takes is someone believing in you for a moment.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. “That’s a good answer,” he said finally, his voice quieter than before. “I think you’re going to do great here.”

Their eyes met briefly, and CJ felt something stir—a faint pull he wasn’t sure how to name. He looked away first, clearing his throat as another call came in.

The next call came minutes later—a young woman in tears, expressing hopelessness over her struggles with an eating disorder. CJ’s tone shifted, becoming even softer, his words carefully chosen to both validate and encourage.

“I know it feels overwhelming,” he said gently. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve already taken a brave step by calling us.”

Y/N’s face visibly tightened during the call. She crossed her arms over her notebook, her fingers tapping nervously against the cover.

By the time the last call of the day came—a parent grappling with a teenager’s suicide attempt—Y/N looked pale. CJ managed the conversation with his usual steadiness, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught her wiping at her eyes.

When the line went quiet, CJ removed his headset and turned to Y/N. Her notebook was closed, and she was staring down at it, her shoulders tense. He considered saying something but decided against it. She was processing, and he knew from experience that sometimes it was better to let the moment breathe.

The clock struck five, and the next shift began filtering in. Priya, Miles, and Gabby closed up their cubicles and headed over, their usual banter bringing a lighter energy to the room. As they clocked in, Priya approached Y/N, offering a warm smile.

“Tough first day?” she asked.

Y/N managed a nod, her voice quiet. “It was... a lot.”

“It always is,” Priya said kindly. “But you’re doing great. We all went through it.”

Gabby chimed in, her cheerful tone cutting through the heaviness. “Hey, some of us are heading to the rec center tonight. You should come! It’s the perfect place to unwind.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at CJ, who was tidying up his desk. Priya followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow. “You’re coming too, right, CJ?”

He looked up, smirking slightly. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” Miles called from across the room, grinning. “Consider it mandatory fun.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Okay, I’ll come,” she said. “Thanks.”

The rec center buzzed with energy when they arrived. It was a lively space, filled with college students playing games, lounging on couches, and chatting over drinks. The group found a table in a quieter corner, settling in with a mix of sodas and snacks.

As the evening wore on, someone brought over a tray of drinks, offering options for those who wanted alcohol. CJ politely declined, his tone casual but firm.

“I’ll stick with soda,” he said, raising his glass with a grin. “I’m enough of a mess sober—I don’t need to add anything to the mix.”

Priya gave him a knowing look but said nothing, while Y/N watched the exchange curiously. She chose a soda as well, raising her glass to match his.

“To surviving the first day,” she said with a small smile.

“To that,” CJ echoed, clinking his glass lightly against hers.

The group fell into easy conversation, their laughter echoing through the rec center. Gabby dragged Y/N into a game of foosball, and CJ watched from the sidelines, chuckling as Y/N surprised everyone with her quick reflexes and competitive streak.

When Y/N finally returned to the table, breathless and grinning, CJ handed her a water bottle. “Impressive,” he said. “I think you might have scared Gabby off.”

She laughed, taking a sip. “I doubt that. She’s already plotting her revenge.”

As the night wound down, the group slowly began to disperse, and CJ found himself sitting with Y/N at the table. The noise of the room faded slightly, and for the first time all day, they had a quiet moment.

“You did good today,” CJ said, his tone sincere. “It’s not easy, what we do here. But you handled it.”

Y/N looked down at her drink, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup. “It just... hit me harder than I expected,” she admitted. “How do you do it? How do you listen to all that and not let it break you?”

CJ hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You don’t block it out,” he said finally. “You let yourself feel it, but you don’t let it define you. You remind yourself that you’re making a difference, even if it’s just a small one.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze meeting his. “Thanks,” she said softly. “For everything.”

He smiled, raising his glass again. “To small differences.”

They clinked glasses, the quiet moment stretching between them. For the first time that day, CJ felt a sense of certainty: Y/N was exactly where she needed to be, and so was he.

The group began gathering their things, the energy of the rec center fading into the comfortable quiet of a late evening. Laughter still lingered in the air as Priya and Miles debated the best way to sneak Gabby’s loss at foosball into the team’s next staff meeting. Y/N watched them with a faint smile, her hands resting lightly on the straps of her bag.

CJ stood near the door, waiting as the others filed out. When Y/N moved to follow, he fell into step beside her. The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside, and the noise of the rec center faded into the distance. The campus was peaceful, lit by scattered lamps and the soft glow of the moon.

“Did you have a good time?” CJ asked, glancing at her.

Y/N nodded, her smile still shy but genuine. “I did. I needed that, I think.”

“Good,” CJ said. “It’s important to find ways to decompress in this line of work. Otherwise, it’ll eat you alive.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the gravel crunching softly beneath their steps. Y/N fiddled with the strap of her bag, her eyes on the path ahead. CJ noticed the movement but didn’t press her—she seemed deep in thought.

As they reached a crosswalk, a stray beam of light caught on something around Y/N’s neck. CJ’s gaze flickered down, catching the glint of silver. A delicate snowflake pendant hung from a thin chain, shimmering faintly in the light. His steps faltered slightly, his mind flashing back to the poem on his desk—the one about snow on the beach.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” he said softly, curiosity threading his voice.

Y/N’s hand shot up instinctively, closing around the pendant and tucking it beneath her shirt. “Oh,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “Thanks. It’s, um, just something I’ve had for a while.”

CJ hesitated, sensing the shift in her demeanor. The way she’d hidden it felt almost defensive, like it meant more than she wanted to admit. He decided to let it go, though the moment lingered in the back of his mind.

“It suits you,” he said instead, his tone casual as he adjusted the strap of his bag. “You’ve got a good sense of style.”

Her blush deepened, but she smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

They reached the lot where most of the group had parked. Priya waved from her car, calling out goodbyes as she drove off with Gabby and Miles. CJ and Y/N lingered for a moment longer, the quiet stretching between them.

“Well,” CJ said finally, his voice softer now. “You survived your first day. And you didn’t even run screaming after the second call.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and easy. “It was close, but I think I’ll stick around.”

“I’m glad,” CJ said, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the air between them seemed to shift, charged with something unspoken. His smile softened. “You’re going to do great here, Y/N.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she nodded. “Thanks, CJ. That means a lot.”

He opened his mouth as if to say more but stopped himself. Instead, he gestured to the parking lot. “Get home safe, okay? We’ve got another big day tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promised, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she turned toward her car.

As she walked away, CJ watched her go, the image of the snowflake pendant flashing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Y/N, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to press the issue. Not yet.

As he turned toward his own car, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Whatever the future held, he couldn’t deny the quiet thrill of anticipation that lingered in the night air.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk

If you want to be added to the tag list or want to be tagged in certain stories, please check out my tag list! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[deathblossomed]

Tag dump pt 3

[redemn]

tags. finally. pt 2. i genuinely never want to make tags for that many people again.

╰ ゜verse.  *  am i to wander as the wayward sun ? ╰ ゜verse.  *  when the time comes ; there ain't no forgiveness. ╰ ゜verse.  *  can you hear me ? the dogs are gettin close. ╰ ゜verse.  *  hang me for my trouble ; send me on my way. ╰ ゜verse.  *  i once stood tall ; now i feel my back against the wall. ╰ ゜verse.  *  oh traveler ; were there crossroads where you been ?

╰ ゜arthur.  *  may i stand unshaken amidst the crash of the world. ╰ ゜dutch.  *  the building of a shrine ; only just to burn. ╰ ゜hosea.  *  that's the way it is ; so many miles to walk. ╰ ゜micah.  *  born with a heart of stone ; fast with a gun. ╰ ゜john.  *  what's the meaning of the scar if we don't learn to heal ? ╰ ゜lenny.  *  now the guilt inside gonna make us bleed. ╰ ゜sean.  *  the day is done ; the time has come ; i'm sorry. ╰ ゜abigail.  *  can you hear how the wind blows in the valley ? ╰ ゜jack.  *  then his heroes ; his heroes all dress in black. ╰ ゜charles.  *  and i followed you big river ; when you called. ╰ ゜sadie.  *  she raised a few brows ; then went on down alone. ╰ ゜uncle.  *  off the radar and always into harm's way. ╰ ゜molly.  *  don't you go and get lost at the point of no return. ╰ ゜karen.  *  now she taught the weeping willow how to cry. ╰ ゜tilly.  *  then she heard her dream was back downstream. ╰ ゜mary-beth.  *  let the buzzards spit on their graves. ╰ ゜pearson.  *  and i turn to those i pass upon my reckoning. ╰ ゜swanson.  *  so i pray to my god for salvation ; as i suffer these. ╰ ゜trelawney.  *  haunting stranger ; in time we'll wait for no man. ╰ ゜kieran.  *  sitting in a hole ; waiting for the train again. ╰ ゜mary.  *  now i know the only compass i need leads me to you.

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

status: complete!

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple. that is, of course, until it isn't.

featuring fake dating/courtship, minor rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining that they think is unrequited, slowish burn, hurt/comfort, a signature bridgerton happily ever after, and my blood sweat and tears!

total wc: 44,497

overall warning(s): historical inaccuracies, period typical misogyny, implied/referenced sexual harassment -- individual, more specific warnings on each chapter. reader is referred to with the last name worthing for convenience

part 1 ↳ 10k words | miss worthing makes an awful sort of proposal to the viscount bridgerton.

part 2 ↳ 7.1k words | miss worthing despises and enjoys the viscount bridgerton's company in equivalence.

part 3 ↳ 9.7k words | miss worthing has a terrible realization.

part 4 ↳ 7.6k words | the viscount has a revelation and miss worthing decides against her heart.

part 5 ↳ 9k words | miss worthing and the viscount find themselves at a crossroads.