#but so many bookmarks that just dropped the story halfway through

[ladynicte]

And officially the coffincest fic has gotten more comments than the Percico one ever got

[missrosiewolf]

What elements make up a good trio?

An archetype/trope that’s an absolute ick?

Book (or books) that you’d recommend to others to understand u?

How’s your day so far :3?

How’s your day so far :3?

My day has been good so far! I'm over halfway through season 5 of Lucifer and I have better work shoes now too! I also gave my dog a much-needed bath.

Unrelated, but my bookmark collection of D&D sourcebooks is growing and going through Dragon Magazine #236 'The Seldarine Revisited' is...a journey. I might do a post about those folks sometime (an actual post not me being baffled over the state of Melira's section).

What elements make up a good trio?

Everyone's thoughts on this will differ, but for me I think a good trioe of adventurerse or heroes is made up of:

The Funny Guy or (alternatively) The Chaotic Gremlin

The "Let's Do This" Guy

and the person who holds the group together: The Only Sane Guy

Yeah I know that's kind of trope-y, but it is my favorite one. I think it's because it kind of describes me and my own friend group(s). I think the role I find myself in most often is the Only Sane Guy. Like for instance, me and one of my friends chat pretty much daily and she is a bundle of chaos (she has her serious moments ofc but she's a chaotic gremlin most of the time), especially when she's simping over a fictional character so I'm often being like that bugs bunny gif of "no"

An archetype/trope that’s an absolute ick?

I've got so many but I'm just gonna keep it down to just two tropes

Sibling Triangle

For those who do not know, the Sibling Triangle is a trope where a pair of siblings fall in love with the same person and try to get with that person. This can turn into a rivalry, one sibling eventually deciding to back off so that their sibling can be happy, or a reenactment of Abel and Cain (and I don't think I need to tell anyone about how that ended).

And it's a trope that I do not like. I just do not like it. I do not enjoy it being in whatever media I am consuming. I tend to get irritated and lose interest in the story and characters when this trope rears its ugly head. The only reason I don't completely drop whatever it is I'm watching or reading (that that trope pops in) is because I'm one of those who needs to finish watching/reading before I can move onto something else. I might walk away for a bit, but I always come back to finish it.

The reason why I don't like this trope is mostly for the same reason why regular ass love triangles don't appeal to me: two people (friends, siblings, coworkers, whatever) fighting over a person does not sit right me at all. That's not an object. That is a fucking person. Fighting over a person, over who gets to be with this person and not bothering to ask what this person fucking thinks does not pass the vibe check.

Also the very idea of fighting with a sibling over the same person is just a big no from me.

It just feels icky.

2. I don't know the name for this trope but it's the one where the dude is portrayed as dense when it comes to one girl in particular but then, when you read between the lines, it turns out that she just refuses to fucking communicate for some fucking reason.

I hate that shit.

Book (or books) that you’d recommend to others to understand u?

Oh that's a tough one. I'm not entirely sure how to answer that because I don't remember all of the things I've read over the years that made some kind of impact on me and who I am as a person, but I'll try to answer as best as I can.

The books I'd recommend are:

J.R.R Tolkien's books. Anything involving his Middle-Earth stories. In middle school, I read The Children of Hurin and The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings (trilogy). In college, I read The Fall of Gondolin, The Silmarillion. None of these were assigned readings. I checked out of the library or they were given to me by friends and family. I loved the LOTR movies and I wanted to read the world Tolkien had created.

The Dragonlance Trilogy Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. Read them in high school.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini. Read in middle-school and high school.

The Redwall books by Brian Jacques. Read some of these in elementary and middle School.

A lot of what I read as I was growing up was fiction. Fantasy books. Adventures. I was...lonely and those genres of books where the ones I could more easily pretend to be traveling alongside the man character was an escape of sorts, I guess. I didn't very many friends (1, maybe two per grade) in elementary and middle school and those friends I did have I didn't hang out with because they didn't live anywhere near me (and there were the grades where I didn't have any friends).

So books, once I started reading chapter books, became my first real friend(s). The friend I'd see every day when I woke up, went to school, and came home.

High School and College is where I got my first real group of friends that I still talk to. I guess that is probably why I don't read as much as I used to. I'm not filling a void anymore.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Jason was someone who knew the value and the importance of a good night sleep. And life on the Argo ll showed him that the others were lacking in that department.

And without quite fully realising it, he studied them and found solutions that maybe they hadn't even realised.

(Or, Jason is distressed team mum and wants to help everyone get some sleep)

He'd find Percy drifting off while sat on the sofa and would inquire that the other slept. Percy would give him a fond and amused grin "yeah, I will." But Jason can see the bags under his eyes and the way he's slower to react (not by much of course, it was Percy after all impulse was kinda his thing) and resists the urge to shake his head.

Instead Jason goes over to the window, and feels his power fill the air. A cool gust of wind and the trickling of rain start to appear, followed by the cool lapping waves of the sea (because of the wind) and Percy listens to them absentmindedly but only takes a few minutes for him to nod off on the sofa, lulled by the sounds around him. Jason had heard him fondly talk of Montauk, of a rainy cabin by the sea and Jason knew at once what to do.

A light swirl of wind picks up the blankets from his room and tuck him in, a pillow pet wedged in his arms.

Jason finds Leo tinkering in the engine room with Annabeth by his side. They've thrown themselves into another invention and happily explain it to him. And while most of its intricacies go over his head, he praises them regardless (and tries not to frown at how surprised they are, especially Leo to receive genuine praise. That he files away for later.)

His points of going to sleep fall on death ears of course, but he's caught them before they've started to consume any caffiene. Jason takes a deep breathe and mumbles some words in a language he's never truly used before. But Leo does, freezing in place and staring at Jason in open mouth surprise.

It's a song Reyna sings, has sung to Jason more times than he can count. On cloudless night skies full of stars, when all they have is each other to hold on to. Jason doesn't completely known the language but Reyna uses it when there alone, he wants to know because he knows just how important it is to her.

Tears well up in Leo's eyes, his body sags and his eyes flutter sleepily like Jason had hoped. It reminds Leo of his Madre, and warmth wells up in his heart. To seal the deal, Jason hands over a blanket with all the importance of a treaty and mimes for Leo to put it around him.

Leo raises an eyebrow, still reeling from the song and does so. He gasps in surprise, for this is a weighted blanket that seems to by magic dull the anxiety that wells up in his friend. (Jason is certain that weighted blankets are just magic). He gives Jason a grin but for once it reaches his eyes, eyes that shine witb gratitude "okay okay, I'm going to sleep Jase if you're gonna go through all this trouble."

Annabeth looks like she's about to protest for all of 3 seconds before shaking her head and bade Leo goodnight. She gives Jason a calculating look "I'm assuming you're doing this with everyone." Jason nods, open and honest because he has nothing to hide and knows how much that means to her. Annabeth stares at him for a few seconds, before nodding, accepting it.

"We have been... Running ourselves ragged I suppose...." To Jason that's an understatement, she can read them all but he can read her 2. He can see just how much she's struggling to keep herself together. Otherwise she'd probably have put up more of a fight to his plans. "So, care to tell me what you thought of for me?"

Jason smiles, taking out a book and pressing it into he'd hands, she raises an eyebrow and makes what's halfway between a snort and a chuckle. "You want me... To read till I sleep?" She asks, Jason nods absolutely serious. Annabeth isn't sure how to react that but finds no harm in it and does so. She's about 5 pages in when her head falls onto the pillow beneath her and softly snores.

Annabeth had been that exhausted that few things wouldn't have made her fall asleep. That is if she were anyone else, but she was Annabeth. She was someone who's guard was raised at all times, so he made his intentions clear and handed her a book to help her sleep. It wasn't that the book was magic or anything it was even what it contained though that was important.

It was on keystone arch way design, an architectural style that had been pioneered by Romans. This particular book was one of Jason's favourites, and by giving her a book important to him, about something he cared about he was able to gain her trust. Jason had relaxed Annabeth enough that her guard dropped momentarily so that her tired body was able to win out.

Jason had no doubt she would read the book the next day and bookmarked it for her, using the wind to gently send her to her room.

He found Frank polishing his bow and talking to Hazel. Jason strode over to them and told them that it was late and they should rest. That they had a big day ahead of them and he wouldn't want them to get hurt through their exhaustion.

And while the words were casual enough, they bore with them a certain edge. Not harshness or even cruelty but a certain form of confidence that spoke of authority. Now Jason didn't have authority, not here but he used to. Frank and Hazel has known him for a while personally but not as long as he'd been their Praetor and Jason knew instantly that they'd recognise his tone.

But he didn't leave it there, otherwise he'd have felt cruel and cold, and besides it wasn't the whole plan. Jason smiled warmly, and began to tell a story. Like so many he'd shared at a campfire after long days at Camp Jupiter. Hazel curled up beside Frank who stifled a yawn, the almost Prateor voice had got their attention yes.

But the story pulled them in, just like it always had. It was one they'd heard a thousand times of a mission a former Prateor had been on but Jason weaved words like magic and before he was finished they were out like lights.

He smiled fondly, just like than and wrapped a blanket around them and left once they were comfortable.

Piper was sat by one of the windows, staring into her blade in deep thought. Jason clears his throat to make his presence known and she jumps slightly, waving at him once she regains her composure. "Oh, hi Jason. What's up?" She tries and fails to hide her true feelings. Piper's afraid, and Jason knows it. He asks her if she can fall asleep and she shakes her head silently. Jason nods, expecting as much and sits beside her.

Instantly she rests her head on his shoulder, it takes a few seconds but she voices her worries. Her anxiety and fear about their mission, and he holds her close. Jason let's get it all out, even prompting her at times before consoling and comforting her. He addresses every one of her fears with a realistic but kind response, it reminds him of new campers still learning the ropes and asking a billion questions all at once.

He comforted them, answered their questions and made sure they knew he was always their to support them. Jason comforts Piper the same way, bringing up that she has improved, how far they've gotten and holding her close.

And it helps her relax, much like it did to them in the past and once she does she starts to yawn. He gives her a pointed look and she laughs tiredly "fine I'll get some rest, only if you do as well." Jason nods, watching her go back he'd to her room.

Of course he will, he fully intends to keep that promise like all the rest. The rain is more natural now, perhaps he'd initially caused it but oh well. Jason thinks of the seven, or rather the six and how they've worked their way into his heart. He thinks of Reyna and knows she'd have been amused of his efforts as she always is.

And now Jason finds himself able to sleep, now that he knows everyone else is well and truly resting. And that's what he feels as he drifts off to sleep curled up in a nest of blankets like the wolf he is.

When Nico joins them, and everyone notices him having trouble sleeping there is little surprise among the six when Jason quietly approaches him.

It's a lot less surprising when they see Nico drinking hot chocolate at night and discussing Mythomagic strategies with Jason, as his eyes begin to flutter, that remind him of so much of late night conversations with Reyna on days that have been so hard on them both.

Because every now and again Nico will drop in something serious in their friendly banter and Jason will not belittle, nor ignore nor make light of it or coddle him but listen and ensure he feels listened to. Because that he finds is what Nico needs... And if he manages to hug him at some point and get him to sleep that's a definite plus.

(Really wanted to hammer it home that Jason makes others feel comfortable by addressing who they are as people and uses himself to help.

With Percy he uses his powers to remind him of his safe place when he's in distress.

With Annabeth he uses his passion and being a literal open book because he knows she values and needs trust and safety.

With Leo and Nico it was his friendship with Reyna, of how they've both helped each other when there hurting and applied what he's learnt here.

With Frank and Hazel and Piper it was his role as Prateor, the knowledge of how to help tjise who are openly hurting and want that support and telling stories because that's what helped campers like Frank and Hazel are to feel better.

Because helping others is such a core part of who Jason is)

[gisellelx]

Not sure if you read fanfic, but since I've already read all your fics (and consider you one of my favorite fic authors), could you recommend some of your favs? :)

Thank you for the compliment, anon! Sorry for taking so long to get to this.

So the short answer is that I use my FFnet Favorites list differently than many--I have an excellent memory for titles and authors (although I've found a handful that have slipped me over the years) so I don't use it to "bookmark" fics I'm reading. I use it purely for "If you're reading my stuff, you will like reading this other stuff." It's pretty eclectic in that regard--there are one shots and giant tomes and novellas. It's mostly not E/B focused, but mostly canon or close-canon AUs and to a one are gorgeously written. My reading tastes run a little more literary than average so the fics I favorite tend to be very character driven and slow-moving. But if my fics are your jam, everyone there will also likely be your jam.

If I had to pick a few from that list, they would be minisinoo's, Little Obsession's, and FoiPur's. Those are the ones that are my NO YOU NEED TO READ THESE recs. But really everything on that list I consider something people shouldn't miss. However, I haven't done a great job of keeping that up to date with some of the reading I'm doing right now. So some works I'm slow-binging:

I'm working on @jessicanjpa's Tale of Years series and I'm like halfway through the first multichapter one I've read at all so...this is gonna be a long project. 😂 A long really enjoyable project, though!

I'm also reading @edwardsmate4ever's Alice POV BD, Visions Interrupted. It's a very interesting take on that story.

I just started @edwardskhakipants' Solar Eclipse because I'm always here for a good Cullen family fix-it fic.

I don't remember how I stumbled on Simaril's fic but she has some interesting Carlisle-centric vamp fics. She prewrites before starting to post, so her fic posting is taking a break for the moment while she works on the sequel to To Love a Phoenix. That one was way further AU than I would usually read but I really enjoyed it so...looking forward to reading the next one. Bethesda Gray walked onto FFnet ten years ago, dropped a gorgeous novel, and wrote a bunch of a second one and then basically let it sit for ten years. I love the crap out of them both. They're worth the read just for that moment when Sue is like, "What am I supposed to do, explain that my most talented hospitalist is a vampire?"

Anyway...that's a bunch. I'm trying to read a lot more right now because I get more finger-itchy to write the more I'm reading and I really want to finish One Day the Sun Will Rise so that I can actually give it to people.

[omar-rudeberg]

tag nine two people you want to know better

ta for the tags my lovelies (@zealousfansstuff @grizviser @ungaroyals @lovelierbitsoflife @royalwilmon @purplehoodiesimon @violapinkbaby @starsabovetheunderground @wilhelm-eriksson) 

i’m doing the original q’s as well as the new & improved tag at the same time so they both actually happen lol

favourite colour: favourite colours*

currently reading: currently up to harry potter & the order of the phoenix in my listening through the harry potter audio books for the first time. (it’s twenty-nine hours i’m struggling a little but we’re getting there!) also halfway through reading the published version of my favourite fanfiction of all time the fifth postulate: a sherlock holmes story by lt brady (don’t you dare @ me). also also i have a bookmark in trickster’s queen by tamora pierce which i have started and not finished so many times but one of these days i will i promise. also also also this is all around reading so many words of @ungaroyals works-in progress to help beta / co-write her brilliant world(s) (we’re not taking questions at this time *side eye emoji*)

last series: literally young royals - the whole thing in an evening after work a few nights ago I’m so done for with that goddamn show

last song: ... saying so would give away too much for the next (english version) so my lips are sealed hehe

last movie: pride & prejudice! comfort movie! kiera knightly supremacy! dario marianelli’s score deserves a universe of praise!

sweet, savoury or spicy: am a sweet tooth

currently working on: oh god so much. so so much. (irl work’s pretty stress-free generally, so not much there.) fandom-wise i have like four fics on the go + beta / co-writing stuff + another song in the works + analysis posts + i’ve started annoying the gc with video edits so you may see those soon too someone get me a colour-coded planner so i actually finish some of these projects please

favourite clothing item: scarves. wilhelm and i need to have a talk about scarves.

comfort food: mum’s lamb curry, roti & tomato chutney

favourite time of year: winter !! see aforementioned love of scarves. (aussie summers kick you in the gosh darn gut with their heat and oppressive evenings, no thanks no sir.)

favourite song of all time: (don’t make me. don’t. i can’t. i’ll take back this answer as soon as it’s posted i can tell.) i guess, okay, this one’s been under my skin for a while now - elmira by canadian folk trio the east pointers.

undefined

if you don’t yet know, you’ll soon learn my love language is alt-folk indie fiddle music a la the rest of this album.

do you collect anything: magnets! from places i’ve been, things i’ve seen, places loved ones have been, literally anything. it will surprise no one that they’re arranged colour-coded on my fridge.

favourite drink: dad’s home-made ginger chai

favourite fic: ooft. o o f t. i don’t know how to introduce the wide range of this answer that will out me in so many ways but i’m waving goodbye to my reputation and i’m just going to do it because i don’t think i’ve ever listed these out like this anywhere, so. if you understand where i’m coming from with any of these please let me know and kan vi snacka?

the someone like you series (glee | klaine) was my first love and the world-building and oc’s so marvellous i still go back to it all the time. a change in the weather & fan-sequel a drop in the ocean (glee | kurtbastian) come in #1 for my glee days though for SURE. wild and unruly (1d | larry) introduced me to the cathartic nature of emotional cow-births no i will not explain if you know you know. wrap me up in daisy chains & sequel rose garden dreams (1d | fem!larry - think the author’s taken them down now i can’t find a link) turned me gay so they make the list too.

my #1 though is the faithful compass series by keeliethompson1 (bbc sherlock | johnlock). the author’s taken down the fic version to publish the original story^ i’m reading but the fic’s just... better. i can’t even explain it it’s just the most insightful prequel / canon-weaving, dramatic but not overly so, narratively cohesive, well written story i’ve read maybe ever.

i’m still finding a yr fic to be the loml but we’ll get there, don’t worry. 

tagging @pineplaipptles & @quiet-mask-of-uncertainty​ who became my first friends when i dipped my toes back into tumblr four months ago (thank you)

[nebula-jazz]

Where Dreams Lie

Leonardo x reader

The dripping of water. The flipping of pages. The smell of incense and the feeling of steam of hot tea against your cheeks. A soft, calming and steady beat of a strong heart pressed strongly against your ear.

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

You search around in the dark to find your clock in hopes of a few extra minutes of the loving and peaceful sensations. But it was too late by the time you shut off the blasted thing. The dream had escaped from your mind and slipped quietly between your fingertips.

Groaning in defeat you walked through the quiet house. The sound of your younger sibling snoring sent a chill of irritation up your spine that they could still escape reality as you had to get ready for another day in literal hell. Your morning routine was your only peaceful part of your day besides sleeping.

You threw on your clothes going with a blue theme today along with a large hoodie that appeared out of no where. You kicked your skate board into your hand as you threw your backpack over your shoulder. You grabbed a apple on the way out.

The ride to school was quiet. Though halfway through you had to pull your headphones out and stop. 

You often took the backroads to school and so you always had to keep your guard up. but every once in awhile the light of the lamps and the moon would get blocked and you have to look up.

This had been happening to you for the last few months since you woke up in the hospital. It sent odd chills up your spine and a ball of relief  would settle in your abdomen. You found this odd as, from what you could remember, you were always afraid of the streets since you were younger. Even if a lamp post flickered it would freak you out so bad it would send you running.

People at school and even your normally absent family have noticed these slight changes in your behavior. They had told you that you you go out every weekend and wouldn’t return until Monday evening. You had went missing for two weeks the showed up at the hospital with little to no memory with what had happen or why you would leave now that you were much more lose lipped than you were. They wanted to find the reason for your extensive injuries and the fact that you needed life support.

You stopped in a dark ally when the light of the moon was blocked. You looked up confused and squinted. You felt a small amount of hope well up in your chest. You rubbed your now aching chest when you didn’t find nor see anything above you other than light pollution from the city lights and a few sparse clouds.

~~~~~

Your school day consisted of bullies and rude teachers thinking that your extended absents was due to your laziness and not the fact that you were laying in a hospital bed on advanced life support. You tried to point out that the story was both in the news paper in April O’Neil’s section and on the news. You were sent to the principal’s office for ‘lying’. The principal only sighed and apologized for the teachers rudeness as she wrote them up again, keeping you until your next period.

Home was not much better as your Mother and her boyfriend barraged you with more questions about everything including what had happened in the two weeks you were gone.

Irritated and tired you walked right out of the house and in a random direction. Your feet took you to one of the many entrances of the sewers. You wanted to open it but you were to tired to put in the strength to do so. so you walked into the entrance just enough to be out of sight and sat on the concrete. slipping in your headphones and watched the sun set.

at one point you must a fallen asleep because the dream from the night before came back to you with more detail.

You were curled in someone’s lap as you read your favorite well worn book that when missing after you came home from the hospital. A cup of tea pressed against your chest and the steam gently caressed your face as you read quietly. you lent against a hard chest that felt more like armor but you knew in your subconscious was a chest. You heard the strong and steady beat of a heart as smoke from the many incense danced above your head. you knew you were somewhere in the sewers as you heard the echo of a steady drop of a water drop hitting a puddle.

eventually you saw yourself put down the mug and bookmark the page you were on, placing that too on the mat. You heard a sigh from above you as you reached out of your sight for a hand.

One came into view and the sight shocked you but in the dream you smiled and played with the three green fingers.

“Baby I need to focus.” was the soft complaint but you could tell that there was no heart into it. The simple nickname made your heart flutter.

“We have been in here for two hours Leo. Maybe I need to leave so that you can focus?” you huffed. The hand lifted from your grasp and gently turned your chin upwards. Your eyes were met with a humanoid turtle. You wanted to be horrified but you felt your heart melt as your eyes attached to those deep ocean blue eyes.

“I want you here. No. I need you here. I get nervous when you are out of sight.” ‘Leo’ said softly. You felt his breath fan your face and you were hit with the smell of earl grey tea with honey invade you senses. You turned into putty in his hands as he pulled you in for a hug. He placed his chin on the top of your head and gently started humming.

Your eyes fluttered open to the dark of your room still hearing that soothing voice in your ears.

Tears filled your eyes as you hugged yourself in the dark of your room. Craving that warmth and sweetness. Craving the gentle hands that held you so lovingly and the soothing voice. To you that had been nothing but a dream that had carved your heart out and placed it in someone else’s hands.

But to the turtle with the blue eyes that sat on the roof top watching you it was all real. And you weren’t the only one hurting as his eyes traced the scars down your arms and the hoodie that you huddled yourself in for comfort. His favorite hoodie that he couldn’t bring himself to take back. the scar underneath your eye from his own sword. From him, the person that swore to protect you. He heard your sobs and thought you were remembering how he hurt you as he lost control. He clutched the book that he kept saying to Donnie that he was going to return. He saw the scars and misinterpreted it all and yet he couldn’t move. he had to protect you even though he was the one that was hurting you. He had to. He had to, he thought as he tried to tone out your cries. the cries for someone to hold you. the cries for love that you so desperately craved and already had but was taken from you.

And you both cried into the silent city where the dreams are told to lie. one silent and mournful, the other loud and needing.

[hyperbolicgrinch]

Tagged by @the-sassiest-trixster ❤️

1- how many books are too many books in a series?

Hm, interesting. I don't know. I guess if it is obviously dragging it out for no reason and starving the central narrative then there is definitely too many. But then again, hey, if there feels like there should be more, maybe there should be. Maybe sometimes we just need comfort and quantity of quality. 😅

2- what do you think about cliff-hangers?

They are something that can be so powerful and exquisite but media these days has gotten lazy and jams them in everywhere.

3- hardback or paperback?

I'm not picky. Paperback feels easier to hold sometimes but I do love a hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

Don't really have a one, I just read what I like and drop what I don't find good (unless it's a train wreck and I just need to see how it ends). I'm sure I drag a load but it's live and let live, and my memory sucks.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

Nah, miss me with that unless it turns into a threesome or polyamorous. That being said, I think a well done and purposeful love triangle with a good reason for it like character arc or narrative development can be very interesting and beneficial, but you hardly see them.

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

Can't remember it. 😅😅

7- book you are currently reading

I'm halfway through DUNE by FRANK HERBERT and waiting for my copy of IRON WIDOW by Xiran Jay Zhao to arrive so I can read that!!!

8- last book you recommended to someone

Rules of Summer by Shaun Tan, maybe? I'm sure I've recommended some more recently but I cannot remember them right now.

9- oldest book you read

You know, that's a good question...

10- the most recent book you read ?

Do you mean in date of publication or the last book I read that I finished??? Cause if the latter, I recently finished THE WISDOM OF CROWDS which is the last book in the AGE OF MADNESS trilogy by JOE ABERCROMBIE and holy fucking shit it hurted but I NEED MORE

11- favourite author?

Oh dear. Um. Terry Pratchett, for absolute sure. Joe Abercrombie & Maggie Stiefvater are grand too. Um, there's way more too but I am coming up blank.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

I buy more these days but love borrowing~ Oh wait, do you mean borrowing from someone or borrowing from a library? 🤔

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

I love that we all have different tastes and trash we love, and I can’t recall one off the top of my head at the moment so 🤷‍♀️

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks usually because I have so many and I love to use them, but a dogear can be comforting if it's my book.

15- The book you can always reread?

Anything by Terry Pratchett. I often have them on repeat on audible. 🤗

16- can you read while listening to music?

I used to not think so, but nowadays I can. #MagicPowerUnlocked

17- one POV or multi POV?

Both have their charms. Love seeing it all from one perspective and having the chance for unreliable narrator but damn, I adore seeing it all from everyone's eyes.

18- do you read a book in one sitting or in multiple days?

Look, whatever happens... happens, man. 😂 I normally devour a book if I love it (imagine the book is a bottle of wine and I'm downing it in one night with no help) but there is something lovely about following a story over a couple of days too. 😌

@unexpected-nightview @xgoldentempest @lolacouldnotcareless @deansbaby-1967 @nineninepetals @bangtansosodone @joestarry-eyed @hotdogsngiggles @pancakes40 @necoconeko

[legobiwan]

The muse came to me. Who was I to say no? 

Dooku at the Opera: A Lineage Tale (A Comedy in 3 Acts)

Featuring: Yan Dooku, Rael Averross, Qui-gon Jinn, and Obi-wan Kenobi

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

“Here, take this.”

A dented, silver flask was thrust into Qui-gon’s inner pocket, the weight of the object throwing his deep brown dress robe off-kilter. 

“Rael!” Qui-gon hissed, trying to fish the object from his voluminous, velvet-trimmed outwear. By the Force, he hated wearing this thing. “I’m not - “ The fabric tangled, wrapping around Qui-gon’s arm - once, twice - somehow pinning his limb immobile against his side. 

Rael Averross tossed his head back and laughed for a good minute, leaving a scowling Qui-gon half-bound, trapped in the finest Jedi robes the Temple had to offer. Chuckling, he stepped forward to help Qui-gon unfurl from his self-made prison. “Just trust me, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

“I'm not sneaking Rodian liquor into the Coruscant Opera with Master Dooku at my side. He’ll flay me alive if catches me!” Qui-gon shuddered, testing out his freed arm.

“I’m not asking you to drink it,” Rael cocked his head with a small sigh. “That stuff would strip the paint off the side of a Grellan nightclub.” 

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Qui-gon snapped, rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to know how Rael had such intimate knowledge of the infamous Grellan nightclubs.

“All I’m saying, kid,” Rael’s voice softened as he wrapped an arm around Qui-gon’s bony shoulders, leading him to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of his and Dooku’s shared quarters. “Is that Master Dooku has probably forgotten about about this particular escape tactic.” Rael put a finger to his chin, glancing to the ceiling in thought. “It was twelve years ago.”

Qui-gon frowned, his own confused expression staring back at him in the polished glass. The boy - man - seemed a stranger, wrapped in a long, velvet-trimmed robe, his tunics a darker shade of his customary beige, pressed, absent the usual dark soil spots and off-green streaks that so infuriated his Master. He looked...well, respectable. 

He was fifteen now, had been Master Dooku’s Padawan for just over three years. He had also had the dubious honor of keeping Rael Averross’s occasional company for almost as long. 

“Rael, it’s the opera, not the Citadel. Why do I need an escape tactic?” Qui-gon gestured with the flask in his hand, liquid sloshing against its container. “And if I’m not to drink this, then what in Nine Corellian Hells am I supposed to do with it?”

“I don’t know, kid, you’re a Jedi. You’ll figure it out,” Rael shrugged, pushing wavy black hair from his face. He cocked a crooked smile in Qui-gon’s direction, ruffling his short, spiky hair. 

“Make your exit after the first intermission, but not too close to the start of the second act. Did that one too many times and Dooku’s cottoned on to it.” Rael began to push Qui-gon towards the door, ignoring the boy’s stammered protests. “Now get outta here before he gets suspicious.”

Qui-gon gaped from the other side of the threshold. “Rael!”

But the door only closed with a final whoosh, leaving a very confused Qui-gon Jinn in an empty Temple corridor, battered container of Rodian gin in hand. 

What in the galaxy was that all about? It was the opera. Not just opera, but a Serennian opera. Truth be told, Qui-gon wasn’t much one for the more prestigious arts, not like his Master was, at least. But he had learned to keep those opinions secret after spending two weeks dusting and reorganizing Master Dooku’s extensive holoart book collection, a consequence of expressing his opinion at an exhibition of Tuerrilian landscapes that all the paintings “looked like the same smashball field with the goalposts removed.”

But this would be different, this wouldn’t be a bunch of boring green lawns perched atop various boring curved, silver architectures. This was a story about Serenno. Yes, with large-bodied, multiple-lipped Trellian singers in strange, pointed hats and all, but it was a way to get to know his Master better, learn something new about him, about his planet. 

Behind Qui-gon, the door to Dooku’s quarters opened halfway. “Oh, and kid?” Rael called down the hall. “Say hi to Brigindia the Breadthful and Hagvor the Hu - “ Rael clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks flushing. “Anyway, tell ’em Rael Averross sends his regards if you happen to leave by the stage door exit,” he finished, sly smile spreading across his face.

----

Knock knock knock.

Rael looked up from his holobook, tapping the bookmark button as he glanced at his chrono. 

Not bad, kid, he thought, giving his arms a long stretch before leaving the comfort of Dooku’s plush arm chair. He stopped in the pantry before answering the door, pouring two cups of cold, Nemishian tea.

“So you got out,” Rael said as greeting. “Record time, too.”

Qui-gon pushed past the older Jedi, a flurry of wrinkled fabric and frustration, the faint odor of burnt Ceylla wood drifting from his robes. He made a series of aborted half-circles, like a jittery, indecisive Lothcat before Rael took pity on him and led him to the sofa, pushing a glass of the Nemishian tea into his hand.

The young Jedi sat, unmoving, for a good minute, eyes wide as he seemed to replay every last event of the past three hours in excruciating detail. Rael took his own glass, downing half of it in one go, giving a satisfied smack of his lips. Dooku always did have better provisions than the Jedi commissary, a way of enticing wayward Padawans out of mealtime trouble and sometimes extracting an extra hour’s work out of them.

“It was terrible, Rael,” Qui-gon finally spoke, eyes still wide, voice somewhat haunted.

Rael laughed, slapping his thigh as he sat back in Dooku’s armchair, extending his legs long, his ankles crossed. “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad,” Rael teased. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Five of them, actually,” Qui-gon murmured, taking a sip of his tea. The drink seemed to restore some of the color to his pallid face. “Each with a thirty-minute aria.”

“Ah, The Fall of the House of Carellic.” Rael grinned. “A classic.”

Qui-gon’s eyes widened, as he nearly dropped his glass. “You mean he’s seen this one before?”

“It cycles in every seven years or so,” Rael answered. “I imagine at this point Master Dooku has it memorized.”

“But then why,” Qui-gon's voice rose, “did he give me a three-hour running commentary of everything wrong with its portrayal of Serennian culture if he knows it so well?”

“That, my young friend,” Rael drawled, eyes tightening with barely restrained laughter. “Is all part of the experience. Now,” he leaned forward, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “How’d you escape?”

The corner of Qui-gon’s mouth quirked upwards. “Spilled your paint stripper on the mezzanine-level bar. Was a real shame everyone knows the Senator from Gorrusk likes to smoke indoors, although I think both his outfit and pride will recover from the mishap."

“And being the dutiful Padawan you are,” Rael continued, grinning, “of course you volunteered to accompany the poor Senator to the on-site healer, ensuring your Master would not have his night interrupted.” Rael tutted. “It’s just a damned shame there was so much paperwork to fill out.”

Qui-gon raised his glass in Rael’s direction. “Takes forever, really.”

Rael nodded, raising his own glass in salute. “Not too shabby, kid.”

The two Jedi sat in contented silence for a few moments, the adrenaline rush of Qui-gon’s frantic escape finally waning, the younger man’s head slowly tilting downwards, his eyes closing. A minute later, Rael heard a soft snore emanate from the pile of tunics sprawled on the couch. 

Chuckling, Rael stood, collecting both glasses, pulling Qui-gon’s long legs fully onto the couch, boots and all, covering him with a soft blanket plucked from a nearby closet. Dooku could snipe at Rael later for letting his Padawan desecrate his furniture in such a manner. He wouldn’t be back for at least another five hours anyway.

Qui-gon was going to be one of the good ones, Rael thought. Still needed to loosen up a little bit - Dooku had him scared to rights most of the time, but he’d learn soon enough that his old Master was just as much bark as bite - at least, most of the time. 

Fifteen years and Dooku has never gotten anyone to sit through the entirety of one of those Force-forsaken circuses. Rael had never been sure why he insisted on the charade every year - Dooku had to know full well his Padawans were sneaking off. Hell, even the other Jedi Masters always seemed to find a polite excuse to avoid Dooku’s yearly invitations to the opera, Master Windu going as far as claiming he needed to “shave his head and was busy that night and all the other nights the act was in town.”

Force help all of us the day he finds some kid willing to sit through that schlop. They’d probably end up being more terrifying than Dooku himself.

----

“Master,” Obi-wan Kenobi gave a series of gentle raps on the door to Qui-gon’s room. 

Qui-gon peered his eyes open, squinting at the bright morning sun shining through the small gap in his curtains. Morning already?

“Obi-wan, come in,” Qui-gon groaned, voice still full of sleep. “How was the opera?” he asked, suddenly remembering where his Padawan had been last night, shuttled away in a familiar velvet-trimmed robe by his old Master. 

Qui-gon felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped his Padawan would come to him after making his escape, would share in his escapades with Qui-gon over a glass of Nemishian tea, that they would laugh like two younglings as he and Rael had every year until Qui-gon’s Knighting.

But like most other parts of their partnership, this, too, Obi-wan seemed to approach with cool, measured detachment. 

Obi-wan brightened at the question, however, pulling out a crisp holoprogram from his robes. “It was delightful, Master! Master Dooku and I had a splendid time. He even treated me to a Drynarian spiced wine during the second intermission.”

Qui-gon gaped at his student, certain he had heard him incorrectly. His eyes flitted to the cover of the holoprogram - The Fall of the House of Carellic - emblazoned in regal Aurebesh and Serennian script. 

“You - you stayed?”

Obi-wan furrowed his brow. “Of course, Master. Granted, the opera as a whole was a bit bloated, the singers past their prime - Brigindia the Breadthful’s range didn’t quite match up to her alias and Hagvor the Hu - “ Obi-wan hissed, his cheeks flushing red. “Well, Master Dooku said that wasn’t really his name, that it was a ‘improper moniker bestowed upon a great artist for base reasons.’ I didn’t ask after it, but he was alright, as tenors go.”

“But Padawan, the letter-opener I gave you - “ Qui-gon stammered. Not that he had expected Obi-wan to stab anybody with it in an attempt to escape the opera, far from it. But he had thought - Qui-gon let out a breath - hell, he didn’t know - maybe rip a curtain or sabotage some official’s clothing? 

“Oh yes, that was quite useful Master, thank you,” Obi-wan beamed. “The packaging on those meiloorun pastries can rather difficult.”

Qui-gon nodded dumbly at his Padawan. 

“Oh, before I forget, Master, this is for you, from Master Dooku.” Obi-wan held out a flimsi, folded in half, Qui-gon’s name printed in familiar, elegant script. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower and a short nap before the day begins.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Padawan,” Qui-gon said, distracted, not bothering to close the door as Obi-wan hopped out of the room.

With no small degree of trepidation, Qui-gon opened the note.

“Qui-gon - 

I would like to thank you for allowing me to borrow your charge for the evening. It is rare to encounter a young mind with such intellect, curiosity, and, shall I say, an inherent sense of taste and propriety. I find myself wanting to repeat the experience, if Obi-wan (and you) should be open to it. 

As for your letter-opener, I am disappointed that you would arm your student with such an unimaginative weapon. I would say that next year you should confer with Rael in the matter, but I do believe that will not be necessary, given Obi-wan’s sincere enthusiasm throughout the evening. Senator Rembran of Gorrusk sends his regards to you, as he does every year. Ever since the incident at the bar, he has been convinced of the Jedi’s importance in the Republic, so I must thank you for the unintended repercussion of your clumsy sabotage those years ago.

Brigindia and Hagvor also send their regards to Rael. I do hope you didn’t share the mortifying origins of Hagvor’s colorful moniker with your student. He has yet to encounter Rael Averross in person, and I would prefer he and Obi-wan to meet without any prurient preconceptions, as Rael is a good, if infuriating man. How he remains my former pupil is still one of the great mysteries of the galaxy.

Finally, I would like to extend an invitation for you to join me (and Obi-wan, again, if it is to be allowed) for next year’s production of The Sentinel’s Progress, which has not been staged in over a millenia. I am told it is a most inaccurate depiction of our ancient Serennian culture and I would be glad to share my thoughts with you and your Padawan. Of course, if you feel the need to come armed with a letter-opener, you need but slip the blade through Madame Tursky’s silver gown-train. Rumor has it she is most protective of her honor and can be seen hovering near the mezzanine-level bar like a drunken hawkbat at most intermissions. 

Until then, Padawan. And may the Force be with you.

             ---Best Regards,

                    Yan Dooku”

[obsidian-aurora]

Yizhan, 80 Chapters In - A Reflection

Given that today is my birthday, and that I posted Chapter 80 of Yizhan today, I thought it was a good day to reflect on this project and on the recent life events.

Current status of Yizhan:

Words:  463,447

Comments:  849

Kudos: 1843

Bookmarks: 191

Hits:  38742

I’ve been working on this project for almost 5 months now, and it’s been a roller-coaster ride of self-doubt, questioning, and also a lot of fun.  

When I first started writing Yizhan, I wrote it because I saw something so beautiful and unique in the loving relationship between Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan.  To say that there’s a loving relationship is without a doubt.  Whether it’s romantic?  To me, that didn’t really matter, I just wanted to explore a world where it could be.  It wasn’t that I was out to prove something, in fact, I would not be disappointed in the least if the two are just good friends.

Since the 227 incident, where Xiao Zhan’s fans reported AO3 for impugning his public image, and the subsequent anti-fans went on a campaign to destroy him, I’ve felt a lot of conflict in my heart.  At the time I was on a business trip halfway across the world, and I felt like my heart was breaking.

Shortly thereafter, I got the call back from my government - come home!  Right now!  Borders will be closing soon.  I hopped on a flight, and for the past 6 weeks I’ve been isolated at home alone (luckily with 3 very friendly furry cat-friends).

I’ve watched the movie industry that I work in be slowly torn apart and decimated.  The company where I work has laid off countless employees, and I have only a few weeks left before I, too, lose my job.  I have had to be a part of making the decisions of who we were going to let go, all in the essence of “survival” of the business.  Once again, my heart was breaking.

I have gone through what I am now recognizing as the onset of a major depression.  I’m sharing this because I’m sure many of you, too, have similar experiences.

Throughout all of this, one of the things that has brought me joy is to imagine a world where two people I admire fall in love with each other, and find happiness together.  I’ve agonized over whether it was “right” or “good” to keep writing this story.  Honestly, I don’t hold the answer to that question.  I can only hope that if our lovely actors knew of my story, they would understand it’s only meant to bring people joy and not meant to hurt anyone.

As such, I’ve rejected people who have asked to translate my work.  So far I’ve received requests to translate it into Thai, Spanish, and Russian.  It’s not that I don’t want the work translated, but it’s that I want the control to be able to take this story down the moment that it becomes hurtful to either of the two men in question.

For those of you that are still reading this story, I hope it’s bringing you some joy in this time of darkness.  If it is, feel free to drop in some comments.  I might not respond to comments often but I love all of them, and I read them diligently.

If this were a book, I’d quickly be approaching that list of “Longest Books Ever Written” simply in terms of word count, and there’s still so much story yet to write.  I keep writing because it makes me happy, and I hope it makes some of you happy, too.

Stay happy, stay healthy, and let’s all support each other through these times.

~Obisidian Aurora

[mieczyhale]

~TUA Fic Recs~

for the @tuafeedbackfest !!!! there are so many amazing fics bc this fandom really is insanely talented - i wish i had the time to rec all of the ones i’ve bookmarked tbh - BUT as i don’t:: these are some of my favorites (ones i’ve read multiple times, ones that stuck with me, ones that have just a little extra.. Something??)

Amidst the Chaos by crazynadine [explicit. klave. vietnam] Ten months. Klaus spent ten months in Vietnam, fighting a war he didn't belong in, falling in love with a man he didn't deserve.The long and convoluted tale about how a time traveling junkie and a disillusioned solider found love amidst the chaos of war....

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by @obliqueoptimism [klave. vietnam] Klaus says so many horrifying things so casually, and it makes Dave worry.

Bolt from the Blue by @ancientst / TheArchaeologist [mature. parent!klaus. five as klaus’s son] When they were sixteen Klaus successfully escaped for the night, and to celebrate went to the disco with a girl he barely knew. He was young, terribly misguided, but overall the night had been amazing.He just didn't expect to have a baby dumped in his arms nine months later.

can i be the only hope for you by @dancinbutterfly [explicit. klave. vietnam] Klaus is so special the pull of him is overwhelming. Dave doesn’t think he’s strong enough to resist his gravity. He’s too powerful. And fuck it, Dave doesn’t really want to. or (How a fairly ordinary soldier falls in love with Klaus Hargeeves, superhero, time traveler, and medium)

Choirs Threaten in Voices I Only Feel by @veteranklaus [teen rating. klave. typical hargreeves family nonsense] The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.

Eggs Benedict for Breakfast by warmhandscoldheart [mature. klave. feral!dave. protective hargreeves] In which Klaus hits his head hard enough to get retroactive amnesia, and Luther does what he thinks is best.

Everyone Gets Here Eventually by @hermitreunited [mature. klave. ghost!dave. tw discussions of suicide] In the afterlife, all it takes to be with your loved ones is for both of you to want to be together. But for some reason, Dave hasn’t been able to reunite with Klaus, so he’ll do what it takes to find him. 

i’d rather lose my limb (than let you come to harm) by @bluebacchus​ [explicit. klave. au. chickens] How Klaus and Dave find each other in a corner of a foreign field in Flanders, 1917. (WWI AU) OR, A story of love, war, and chickens.

If Your Life Won’t Wait by queenbaskerville [teen rating. major character death. family emotions] When Klaus dies on the dance floor, God kicks him out of the afterlife. But she only kicks him out halfway.

i wore his jacket for the longest time by sharkhette [not rated. klave. tw temporary death] Klaus just wants to see Dave again, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen, no matter the cost. Includes conversations with Ben, Diego, God, a surly preacher, and gratuitous references to certain MCR songs. 

Neon Groves by Livijoyann [mature. klave. vietnam] Klaus Hargreeves travels back to the Vietnam War and falls in love with Dave... and we've seen almost none of it so far. Enjoy a full following of Klaus's time in 1968 from the first kiss to the first "I love you", and ultimately, to the end (with just about everything in between). 

Orange is the New Leather Skirt by Doctor959 [mature. typical hargreeves family nonsense. post-s1] A Misfits/Umbrella Academy crossover (no need to know either fandom to enjoy). The Hargreeves land by a certain community center and shit gets weird

The Light Behind A Cloud by @theseance1968 [explicit. wip. klave. vietnam] An account of Klaus’ time in Vietnam, on a diverged path where Dave survives his injuries. Flowered with opportunities, Klaus chooses to leave his old life behind and stay in the past with him. But how will his decision effect the timeline he abandoned, where his siblings continue to fight to stop the apocalypse in his absence?

The Shadows You Leave Behind by rarae [mature. brothers being brothers. tw discussions of rape and consent] The Hargreeves have stopped the apocalypse and have just returned to the real world from training Vanya in Five's weird pocket dimension. Klaus decides he needs to get some of his things to bring back to the academy and drags Diego along for the ride. They run into one of Klaus’ old ‘friends’ and shit goes down.

the war is over, we are beginning by @karturtle [teen rating. wip. klave. 2019. good brother five] The Hargreeves are slowly beginning to fix things after averting the apocalypse, but Five notices that something is still broken

Two Truths and a Lie by twosidedcoin [general. typical hargreeves family nonsense] “I want to go next,” Klaus announced, “Okay. My eyes are brown. I can see dead people, and I once offered sex to a drug lord to get out of his trunk.”Luther’s fist balled the paper into a ball as he snapped, “The point- Klaus- is to make the lie hard to guess.”Allison nudged Luther with her toe as she corrected, “His eyes are green.”

War is Hell by sauropod [explicit. klave. fix it-ish] Klaus' hands were still filthy with dried blood and muck as he fumbled at the clasps, the combination lock on the top. Desperate, blind hope had his heart going a mile a minute. The dial still read that seemingly random set of numbers it had the first time he opened it on the bus, what felt like a lifetime ago. 0213-18-02-1967“Please.” Klaus choked. “Please work.” He opened the briefcase.

Watch The Heavens (They’re Falling Down) by smile_it_will_get_better [teen rating. wip. typical hargreeves family nonsense] He reached under his pillow on reflex, and there was something there, something hard and rectangular and Five couldn’t help but pull it out.It was a package, encased in brown paper, a small tag attached to the side. Five thumbed it over, ignoring Luther’s inquiries about what it said.To Mr. Five Hargreeves, watch these if you want to survive the apocalypse.

We Only See Each Other at Arrests and Bails by icestorm238 [teen rating. brothers being brothers] aka the five times Diego picked up Klaus from the police station, and the one time Klaus picked up Diego.

Where’s Dave? by multifandom_damnation [teen rating. klaus centric. family emotions] Klaus has a flashback during family time and his siblings finally learn about all the horrific shit he's gone through, a heart to heart ensues and Diego proves how good a brother he really is. It's not a great revelation to have

Wild Eyed Boy by intheflowers [not rated. klave. slow burn. vietnam] Klaus dropped into Dave's life with a flash of blue light.It was the first time Klaus suprised him, but it was far from the last, and while at first he’d wondered if Klaus was maybe a little mad, it wasn’t long before he was certain that he really, definitely was.Not that it mattered much. Klaus had stolen his heart long before then. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -    ~FIC SERIES RECS~ It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You) by @thefangirlingdead A series of moments between Klaus and Dave, during and post-season one. Definitely a fix-it universe dedicated to giving Klaus the happiness and love he deserves. Hope There’s Someone (Who Will Take Care of Me) by @siriuspiggyback baby that’s just how i am by princex_N He's the only one who tries to get used to it, because what other choice does he have? The others still wait, still ask when he'll be done playing around, still yell at him for being annoying, but no one seems to stop and realize that there's nothing he can do about it.Klaus gets used to it, but he's the only one who does.

[rikotin]

I’m back with some good old, Isak-centered Evak 💛 Read it on AO3 from the link, or right here on tumblr from under the cut!

Summary:

It was the heaviness of his head and the lead-like bones in his body, that really gave away the lack of rest, every part of his body screaming in exhaustion as he lifted his torso off of the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand. He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the phone screen, as it almost violently replaced the darkness despite the orange toned night mode he’d permanently switched on.

4:58

or: Another night of insomnia playing its tricks on Isak.

Om kvelden når det mørkner og alle går til ro

As Isak opened his eyes, he was met with darkness. Only a tiny gleam of the street lights outside made its way into the room from the side of a roll-up curtain, painting a thin sliver of the wall across him yellow. It was so quiet, the city still sleeping as the night was yet to turn to dawn, only soft and slow snuffles from his side filling the room along with his own breathing.

He didn’t really need to check the time to know it was way too early, and that he had slept way too little, but he rolled over anyway. It was the heaviness of his head and the lead-like bones in his body, that really gave away the lack of rest, every part of his body screaming in exhaustion as he lifted his torso off of the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand. He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the phone screen, as it almost violently replaced the darkness despite the orange toned night mode he’d permanently switched on.

4:58

Isak dropped the hand holding his phone and let his upper body slump back against the bed, his head landing on his cool pillow. He sighed and nuzzled his nose against the soft pillow case, but despite feeling very much comfortable, he kept looking at the wall, following the edge of the small pillar of street lights with his gaze, and let out a frustrated sigh.

He had only managed to fall asleep under two hours ago, as the last time he checked the clock was at 02:55 and despite the tired heaviness of his body, his mind was already racing, meaning that was all the sleep he’d get tonight.

It was nothing new, really. He’d been struggling with his sleeping habits ever since he was 16, but over the years, the problems had come and gone, irregular enough for him not to pay too much mind to it, but regular enough they left him frustrated and worn out every time it happened. Not only did it mess up his routines and make his moods bounce all over the place, it also started feeding the vicious circle of worrying about the next night’s sleep, the anxiety of it making it then even harder to get a good night’s rest.

He had gone to see a doctor about it, several times, but nothing so far had been a magic remedy – the different pills would always break the cycle and help him catch some well needed sleep. And after he would finally be confident enough to slowly leave the pills out, he’d always be content for some time, several months even. 

But then, after months of good sleep and no problems, something would happen that made him dive right back into the restless nights which  left him exhausted - mentally and physically. So far, he’d recognized that anytime there was something big going on in his life, something that stressed him out more than usual or something that was a big change, he’d always react by… Well, not sleeping.

He’d been told that it was normal for sleep to be interrupted by things like that, by things that weighed on the mind. And that he’d fall back into the regular rhythm by talking about his worries and troubles to the people around him and maybe to a psychologist. By getting the proper medication. By writing lists of things he found troubling. By making sure he’d go to bed at the same time every evening and get up at the same time every morning. By checking whether the temperature of the room was not too warm and that the bed he was sleeping in was ergonomic. By making sure the room was dark and he wouldn’t be interrupted by noises during the night. By using lavender incense. By exercising more. By not eating too much carbs in the evening. By drinking chamomile tea to relax. By meditating. By not using his phone or computer for two hours before sleeping. By this and that and those.

Slowly, he started hating the smell of lavender and gagging at the taste of chamomile. He still got bored out of his mind by sitting down to meditate for 15 minutes everyday, but was stubborn enough to keep it up. He was able to get through four books a week after abandoning his phone in the evenings, and was still going to bed at 22 and getting up at 7 every single day. He also used a fortune on the new – extremely comfortable – bed he had been kind of dreaming about for a while, his sleeping problems only working as an excuse for him to buy it with Even.

And it wasn’t fucking helping.

Really, Isak was neither surprised that he had slipped back into having troubles with falling asleep lately, nor that he was now awake at stupid o’clock, unable to fall back asleep. He had just finished a bunch of exams and deadlines as well as applied for several promising jobs, and was now free of his responsibilities. All of his exams had gone relatively well and the ones that didn’t he wasn’t too worried about, as he was pretty sure he had managed to scramble through them well enough to still pass. All of the places he’d applied to for a job were his thing, and after taking the time to really craft applications he was happy with, he was confident he’d score at least an interview at a place or two. 

Almost miraculously, during the studying and applying, he’d slept fine, and the freetime he now had on his hands was more than welcome. So it was a win-win scenario, many would say. But not for him, apparently. Instead, now that he was finally finished with what was essentially weeks worth of immense stress, his brain took the sudden shift –  from being constantly on the edge of a nervous breakdown to being free as a bird – as too big of a change, which left him lying awake with barely two hours of restless sleep.

After rolling around for a good half an hour, he finally gave up and sat up, flicking on his small table lamp, the bulb casting a warm and dim light into the room. He glanced over his shoulder at Even, and turned the light a bit so he was sure to block it from shining straight into Even’s face. Isak reached into the drawer of his bedside table, and pulled out the book he’d reluctantly put down earlier that night. It had been a rather slow story so far, but as the book was a thriller, it had swallowed him  whole and now, over halfway through the book, the story was sure to get its turning point very soon. He didn’t compromise his routines due to a book, of course, and did go to bed at the same time as always – but as predicted, he had gotten back up after half an hour of trying to play sleepy and continued reading. And then he repeated the process for who knows how many times before actually falling asleep, only to be awake again now.

He put his pillow behind his back for support, and as he got comfortable against it he glanced at Even again, this time looking at him long enough to register his current position, and stifled a snort: instead of his boyfriend, the other side of the bed seemed to be taken over by a huge knotted mess of limbs and bed sheets. Isak reached out to lift a corner of the duvet and there Even was, hair messily sticking out from the top of his head. Carefully, Isak pushed one loose lock away from Even’s forehead, earning a silent snuffle from his boyfriend. He smiled softly, relaxing back against his pillow and keeping his eyes on Even, examining his face. 

Even looked so relaxed and peaceful that usually, Isak would have been envious – downright jealous, even – for the sleep he was able to get while Isak spent yet another night tossing and turning and doing anything but sleeping. This time though, he only felt relief, as Even had had his fair share of shitty nights over the last couple of weeks, and the dark shadows under his  eyes were glaring evidence of that. Isak sighed, biting his lip and briefly wondered if he could have done something differently to help Even, the guilt making its way to the surface ever so easily when the exhaustion weighed his limbs and fogged his ability to think rationally. He was well aware of the fact that he had been rather snappy and difficult despite doing his best to contain it. Then again, Even had been sluggish and whiny despite trying his best, so it had been a doomed effort right off the bat to live like they hadn’t both had the worst week in a long time.

It was good to see that one of them finally got the sleep he deserved.

Isak sighed and reached for his book once more. He opened it from where he had closed it, the page marked with a neat, silver metal bookmark Even had proudly presented him with about a month back, after being absolutely horrified with Isak’s habit of leaving dog ears on book pages. The bookmark had a little charm dangling on it, shaped and coloured to be a red snapback. Isak didn’t really wear snapbacks anymore; however, the sentimental value they held and the fact that Even had chosen it for him because it reminded him of Isak had made him a little soft inside. Still did.

Isak placed the bookmark on the table and straightened his back a bit and continued reading. The shuffle of the pages when he turned them had become a soothing sound for him, and he felt himself relax little by little as he ran his fingers across the smooth paper, flipping page after page after page, the story – despite the suspension and twists in it – feeling like a safe haven in the middle of the deep and intimidating sea of thoughts for his tired mind.

Isak startled when the bed shifted suddenly, and turned his gaze to Even who was now blinking against the reading light, squinting and rubbing his eyes.

“You’re awake.”

Even’s voice was groggy and heavy with sleep and his hair messily pointed in all directions rather endearingly. Isak huffed softly at the sight.

“Hmm, yeah.”

“What time is it?”

Isak cringed, unable to help himself, and turned his gaze back to the pages, not really registering the words in front of him as he did.

“One should absolutely be asleep o’clock,” he mumbled, with a strain in his voice, not bothering to mask his disappointment – not sure towards what, though. Probably at himself, even if Even always had the patience to remind him it was not something he could control.

“Shit, it is huh…” Even yawned widely and snuggled a little bit closer, pressing his face against Isak’s thigh. “Have you slept at all?”

“A little.”

“Did you try falling asleep again?”

Isak shot a look at Even who grimaced immediately, reaching a hand out and pressing his palm on Isak’s bare back and making little circles with his thumb.

“Sorry, that was a dumb thing to ask.”

“Yeah, it was,” Isak sighed, giving up on the book in his hands, and picked up the bookmark from the table. He carefully placed it in between the pages before he closed the book and slid it back onto the table next to him. “It’s fine, though.”

“No, it’s not,” Even said right away. “Sorry. I know it’s difficult for you. I should’ve been more considerate.” 

Even’s hand came to a halt on Isak’s back. As Isak turned back to him, the expression on Even’s face was very serious despite the obvious sleepiness, but also made him look like a kicked puppy at the same time.

“Even, it’s fi–”

“No. I’m sorry,” Even insisted again, keeping his eyes locked with Isak’s. The grogginess paired with stubborness made him sound almost childlike, and Isak couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. He reached out to gently brush his fingers over Even’s cheek, who tilted his head a bit to press his cheek against Isak’s cupped hand and then turned it a bit to give a small peck on his fingers. Isak chuckled. 

“It’s okay. We can blame it on sleep talking.”

Even quirked a brow and straightened up a bit – as best as he could while still laying on his side – and an amused smile appeared on his lips. It reminded Isak all over again how much he liked that smile, and how much he had missed it in the past weeks.

“Sleep talking?” Even asked, his hand on Isak’s back dropping against the mattress with a muffled thud. Isak nodded.

“Yeah. Sometimes one can appear completely awake and talk like normal, but the words and sentences make no sense as the person is actually sleepwalking and dreaming. And, hence, sleep talking ,” he said and leaned a bit more against the pillows, letting his head fall back against the wall. “You do say nonsense while wide awake, too, though. That Gabrielle does the best pop music. That my tea tastes like wet leaves and piss.”

Isak tried to keep a straight face but his efforts crashed and burned when he burst out laughing when Even presented him with an extremely exaggerated eye roll.

“Whatever. That tea of yours really tastes like wet leaves and piss, though,” Even scoffed and laughed as well. Isak scrunched up his nose little, before he sighed, his laugh toeing the line of hysterical.

“It really fucking does, doesn’t it? It’s so bad.”

Even snickered and poked Isak’s side, making him jump with a yelp. He glared at Even, but even in the teasing look in Even’s eyes, he could also see a hint of empathy before Even rolled over to his back, yawning into his fist before rubbing his eyes. 

“Can I, like... help you? In some way?” Even asked carefully as he tucked his arms under his head and turned to stare at the ceiling, a little frown forming on his face. Isak knew that face – it was the one Even wore when he was desperate to solve a dilemma that was outside of his understanding. Isak had seen it multiple times when Even was working on his school projects and got stuck, but really couldn’t figure how he felt when the face was so obviously directed at him.

Isak sighed and scratched his cheek, shrugging. 

“Probably not.”

“Are you sure?” Even asked, sounding a little disappointed as he glanced at Isak with a purse of his lips. Isak could see it troubled Even that he was not being able to do anything for Isak to make it easier. And Isak really loved his boyfriend to bits as he was always ready to do anything he could to ensure Isak’s happiness, but he also felt very bad when he knew there was really nothing that Even could help. He looked down at his hands, and mumbled almost inarticulately: “Yeah. Sorry.”

It must’ve come across a little wobbly, as Even sat up immediately and pulled Isak into a bit of an awkward half hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just worry, that’s all.”

Isak nodded and leaned his head against Even’s shoulder despite the challenging angle, a sudden need of being close and cared for washing over him. Almost like reading his thoughts, Even let go of him, slid back down on his back and reached an arm out as an invite.

“Come here.”

Isak turned off the light on the bedside table and crawled back under the covers, making sure to plaster himself against Even, not an inch between them. Even shuffled a bit so Isak could rest his head on his shoulder. Isak felt an arm circling around his back and kiss in his hair, followed by a sound of a loud yawn.

“Sorry I woke you up,” he whispered and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and familiar scent of his boyfriend enveloping him as he hid his nose to the curve of Even’s neck. Even hummed, and Isak could hear it in his voice that Even was well on his way back to the slumber.

“Hmm, ‘s fine. How are you feeling?”

“Not sleepy. But it’s good here.”

“What is?”

“Being here, next to you,” Isak responded, feeling a lot more comfortable and content than just a while ago. “Not alone.”

He tilted his face up and blindly placed a kiss on Even’s face, aiming at Even’s lips but only reaching far enough for the peck to reach his jaw.

“You missed by a mile,” Even mumbled, his words coming out a bit slurred with sleep. Isak huffed.

“Go to sleep, you sound drunk.”

“My aim is still better than yours,” Even hummed, startling Isak as he lazily tapped a finger on his nose in the pitch darkness. Isak brushed his hand away and scoffed, burying his face back into Even’s neck, listening to his breaths getting slower and deeper as he drifted off, his arm still securely around Isak.

This time, Isak didn’t mind staying awake all that much.

[baekberrie]

first kiss with ksoo pls!!!

You cast a glance from behind your shoulder, that was currently pressed against Kyungsoo’s as the two of you sat with your backs pressed against one another’s outside in the garden of his house. Although the late summer, the sun still kept you warm and the birds were gracing you with their chirping and singing.

It hadn’t been so long, but expectedly enough, he was already engrossed into a new book that he had bought just a few days ago, you didn’t blame him though, you were just like him after all, in fact, the bookmark inside of your book was already farther than halfway through. 

Taking advantage of the fact that he wasn’t noticing your stare, you allowed yourself to take in his features that were so soft. His long eyelashes shaped a sweet shadow on the apple of his cheeks as his orbs moved by every line that he read, his pillow-like lips parting anytime he’d get into an exciteful part of the story. Kyungsoo’s thick eyebrows were twisted into a frown of concentration on his face, creating a hard crease between his brows. The view didn’t fail to make a soft smile tug on your lips as you closed the book you had been reading, just to put it away from you, moving on to sit next to Kyungsoo.

A chuckle threatened to leave your mouths when the boy hadn’t even noticed how you had moved from behind him. Teeth dug deep into your lower lip when you couldn’t stop your hand from reaching out to the crease between his brows, your index finger gently smoothing out the harsh expression from his face. Startled, Kyungsoo jumped slightly at the sudden feeling of your touch- eyeing you with scared eyes. Though his gaze automatically softened when he saw that it had only been you. A relieved sigh left his lip while he closed the book. You hadn’t been able to resist bringing your eyes to the lower part of his face, feeling your cheeks heat up when his plushy like lips bounced as he parted them to speak.

As a shy couple, you had never minded taking things extremely slow, Kyungsoo wasn’t someone who talked much, less expressed his feelings, so you had really no idea what he felt about becoming the slightest more intimate. All you knew was that weird thoughts about his lips on yours had started tormenting you way too often for the well being of your heart, moreover, you felt embarrassed and slightly naughty for wanting to get so close to your seemingly clueless boyfriend. 

He was currently saying something in his usual low voice, however, your ears had a long time ago stopped listening, eyes now only focusing on his moving mouth. There was no way you could ignore the sudden rush that buzzed through your arms, making your palms cup his face, you recalled the slight sound of his breath hitching inside of his throat, but he didn’t stop you.

You had never thought that you’d ever be the one to take the first step.

Still, you prooved yourself wrong when you hesitantly pressed your lips to his, Kyungsoo’s eyes automatically drooped close when your face came closer. You had always imagined his lips to be soft- but gosh where they like airy pillows, gently like feathers as they slightly clumsily tugged your own open, a peachy taste coming off his lips.

🍓🍓🍓

I’m so sorry for making you wait, love! I hope this isn’t too long and that it’s great!! I’m honestly so tired atm so I apologize for any weird sentence, I should delay the other drabbles as well, which makes me so disappointed in myself but I have many things to do tomorrow, and I need the sleep >

Thank you for dropping by, it means so much!!

[mikotyzini]

Living Fiction - Ch. 8 - Free Day

The last chapter of this story has arrived, and Bumblebee Week concludes for the year.  Thank you to everyone for coming on this journey with me!

Edit - follow @white-rose-week  if you’re interested in White Rose!  I’ll have another story for that week, which is in June.

Intro Chapter Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

The moment the last chapter ended, Blake found herself precisely where she’d been before the adventure began - with one hand touching the title of the first book while Yang was doing the same.  The bookshelves, the study rooms, the quiet conversations - the library appeared in full in a single moment, eschewing the gentle phase-in they’d grown accustomed to.

The bookmarks had run their course; the chapters were over, and Blake and Yang landed back in the real world just as abruptly as they’d left it.  But, even though time hadn't progressed, Blake could already feel that things were different.

Briefly confused by the change in scenery which, when compared to the smooth transition between chapters, was somewhat jarring, Yang looked around the library while trying to gather her bearings.  Once she ascertained that they were, in fact, back in the campus library, she turned to Blake with a big smile.

“That was incredible,” she said again, removing her hand from the book and running it through her hair.  “Like really, really incredible.”

Blake would have guessed as much from Yang’s prior comments, but hearing the words again never hurt.  Actually, she really enjoyed hearing how much Yang loved the experience of diving into the pages of a story - it was just another thing they had in common.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Blake said, smiling up at Yang.

“More than enjoyed it - I freaking loved it,” Yang replied before suddenly looking a little embarrassed.  “Especially...especially that last chapter…” she added with a shy grin.

Blushing at the memory of the kiss they’d been sharing moments ago in an entirely different realm, Blake managed to glance away for only a second before her mind compelled her to meet Yang’s eyes once more.

“That was my favorite, too,” she admitted, and she was instantly rewarded for her honesty with a big, happy smile that made her heart thump loudly in her chest.

Sometimes it was strange to think that this was ‘real’ life while the stories they’d just lived through were not.  Compared to the magnificent palace they’d just experienced, the library seemed almost too...mundane...to be ‘real’ life.  Where was the excitement?  The adventure?  The frenzy of emotions?  None of that seemed to exist in this place, where quiet students studied for upcoming exams or worked on research papers.

Except that wasn’t quite true.  

When Blake looked at Yang, a shiver of thrill raced down her spine.  It was similar to how she always felt when Yang came to the library on Wednesday nights, but this time even more thrilling than normal - because she didn’t know what was going to happen next.  She didn’t know what Yang might say or do or want to do - all she knew was that she wanted to be around to witness whatever that next event might be.  

It hardly seemed to matter what was real or not anymore.  Regardless of whether they were in a story or not, they’d experienced something together, and created memories together, and spent time together.  All of those moments, despite occurring in a ‘fake’ world, had created a connection that made it back with them.  Blake felt it in the beating of her heart, fluttering in wild anticipation - and saw it in Yang’s eyes, sparkling in enjoyment of their continued company.

“So we literally didn’t move that entire time,” Yang commented while stretching her back.  “You’d think I’d be stiffer.”

Blake chuckled, now finding it rather unbelievable that they’d once struggled so mightily to hold a conversation.  Why had it been so difficult?  There were so many things they could talk about - at least, now that the initial barrier had been knocked down.

“It’s not a great way to pass the time,” Blake replied with a smile that grew bigger when Yang laughed at the joke.

“I don’t mind at all.  Means I have more time to spend with you here.”

Flattered by the response, Blake was about to reply with some type of agreement when another thought suddenly sprang into Yang’s mind.

“Hey,” she said, looking to her left and right before lowering her voice to just above a whisper.  “How do you know you’re not still in a book?”

Before Blake could even begin thinking about the implications of that comment, Yang laughed and shook her head.  “But why would anyone write a book about college?  How boring.”

“Not as boring as you might think,” Blake replied, gesturing towards the stack of books still sitting on the desk between them. Taking one look at them, Yang laughed again.  

“Well, can’t argue with you there…” she said before another idea popped into her mind.  “Oh, so…”  Ducking her head, she lowered her voice again.  “So...if we’ve only kissed in the book…”  Coughing once into her hand, she threw on a grin while a soft blush visibly reddened her cheeks.  “Does that mean...that we haven’t in real life?”

After blinking once in surprise, Blake felt her own cheeks flush - because there was only one reason why Yang would ask that specific question, and why she would ask it with a blush.

“That depends…” Blake replied.

“On what?”

“On what you want to believe,” she said, carrying on to a full explanation when confusion registered on Yang’s face. “Technically, the books aren’t real worlds,” she continued.  “But we’re real people, so...ultimately, I think that decision is up to you.”

Pursing her lips, Yang thought about the quandary for a few seconds before grinning - and Blake immediately knew what the answer was going to be.

“I think it doesn’t count if it happens in the story,” Yang said, quite proud of her clever ploy.  “In this instance, at least.”

The added-on comment made Blake laugh and shake her head in amusement.

“Leaving yourself margin for error, I see.”

“Hey, never know what might happen in the future! Gotta keep my options open.”

“Uh huh…”

The comment had been lighthearted and playful, but Blake’s thoughts buzzed at the mention of ‘the future.’  Their future used to exist from Wednesday evening to Wednesday evening, but now...even though she didn’t know what to expect, but she was excited for whatever their future may hold.

Placing both hands down on the desk and stepping closer, Yang smiled - a smile that grew in confidence the deeper Blake blushed in expectation.

“So…” Yang began, tracing circles on the desk with one finger.  “That means I haven’t kissed you before…”

“That’s too bad...” Blake replied, fixing her gaze on Yang’s twinkling eyes.  “Seems like that would be...pretty incredible.”

Whatever intention Yang had of playing it cool immediately disappeared after the comment.

“Do you really think so?” she asked, her eyes excited and hopeful that Blake would repeat what she just said.  Which she did - adding in a nod for additional assurance.

“Yes.  Pretty incredible would be one way to describe it.”

The admission made Yang grin from ear-to-ear while she nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re totally amazing at it, too,” she said, succeeding in making Blake blush before quickly carrying on.  “I mean, uh, it seems like you’d be amazing too.”

When her attempt to cover up the admission failed, Yang laughed and shook her head.  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that, since we haven’t done that yet...I’d kind of...really, really like to right now.”

Just like on the palace balcony, Blake’s heart flipped and cartwheeled in her chest at the words.  It was one thing for a kiss to happen spontaneously - like it had when they were swept up in the jubilation of the chapter - but it was another thing entirely when Yang made her intentions and desires so...clear.  

Blake wasn’t sure which way she liked better, as both were enough to take her breath away.  Right now, all she knew was that she absolutely loved that Yang was willing to speak her mind so transparently.

“In the library?” she teased, regardless. “What a spot for a first kiss.”

“Considering the girl, I’d say it’s pretty perfect.”  

Yang grinned at the superb response and Blake’s heart thumped loudly in her chest - almost physically able to feel a moment of intimacy on the horizon.  And when Yang leaned over the desk, Blake met her halfway - willingly accepting the kiss in the middle of the library.  

This one was short and sweet, but lingered long enough that Blake’s skin tingled in rampant anticipation of the next.  But Yang pulled away instead of continuing into a second, third, or fourth kiss - grinning like she just accomplished something extraordinary.  

Blake was going to tease Yang about the look before happening to glance over her shoulder and see the expressions of pure shock on the faces of her friends - who’d been observing their interaction through the glass walls of Study Room 8. 

“Oh.”  

Realizing what they’d just done in front of a crowd, Blake blushed and backed away - as if distance would somehow erase the very public display of affection she’d gladly participated in.  Blake’s sudden retreat caused Yang to look over her shoulder and laugh when she was met by equivalent looks of jaw-dropped surprise.

"They bet I couldn't get your number," she explained, turning back to Blake with a grin.  “Showed them!”

While her embarrassment faded away, Blake found another response within seconds - replies growing easier and easier to find.

"Well…” she said, trying to hide a smirk at what she was about to point out.  “Technically, you don't have my number..."

As soon as the words sunk in, Yang's smile dropped and her eyes widened in realization.

“Uh, well, can I have your number?” she asked. “l mean, I did just battle dragons with you, and survive the next ice age, and win a war, so…I mean, hopefully that’s enough?”

Smiling at the exaggeration, Blake picked up a red pen and wrote her number on the closest piece of paper she could find before handing it to Yang.

“Then you've earned this for your bravery,” she replied, internally rejoicing when Yang turned the paper around and smiled at the digits written there.  Yang then carefully put the paper in her front pocket before gesturing towards the books.

“You know who's brave though - that Bree girl.”

Of all the characters, Blake would’ve guessed that Yang would like Bree the most - a powerful, fiercely protective fighter who was willing to do anything for the ones she loved.  From that comment, it looked like Blake was right.

“She really was,” she agreed, but Yang’s smile evaporated at the response.

“Wait...'was'? Do you mean that like ‘in the story she was,’ or like ‘she was before she died?’”

Doing her best not to laugh at the unintended confusion, Blake casually shrugged and said, “You'll have to find out...”

“Ok, can I borrow these?”  While Yang asked the question, she reached towards the stack of books - but this time Blake lunged forward and snatched them away just in time.

“You have a thing for touching things that aren't yours, don't you?” she asked, amused at what had very nearly happened for a second time in a matter of minutes - only this time with Yang going through the chapters on her own.

Unperturbed, Yang returned Blake's smile with a proud grin.

“Sometimes it gets me in trouble.  In this case, I think it was just about the best decision I ever made.”

Feeling her cheeks warm under Yang’s cheerful gaze, Blake looked down at the books while waiting for yet another blush to fade. Picking up each book in turn - careful not to touch any of the titles - she removed the bookmarks and stacked them in order, one through seven.  Once that was done, she placed the bookmarks back in their case and pushed the stack of books over to Yang.

“Now you can take them.”

“I've never been more excited to get a pile of books,” Yang remarked, pulling all seven towards her before tapping the top one. “Do I need to check them out or anything?”

Ordinarily, that’s precisely what was supposed to happen, but Blake could just mark the books out under her own account to save Yang the hassle.

“No, I’ll do that for you.”

“Ah, so there are perks to dat-”  Yang’s sentence abruptly stopped and she shook her head, suddenly looking very much like she wished she’d never opened her mouth at all.  “But thanks,” she added before Blake could pry into the matter. “I can’t wait to see all these stories play out - like does Violet ever get to ride her pet dragon?  Oh!  Wanna hear my predictions?”

Curious as to how this would turn out, Blake motioned for Yang to give it a try.

“Ok, so Violet and Rusty - best friends forever, of course.”  Briefly pausing, Yang watched Blake intently - looking for any hint of an answer. When Blake only chuckled and refused to give a clue, Yang grinned and went on.  “Then Demetri - he gets over his anger and abandonment issues by putting that sword to good use.  I dunno how, really, but I hope he becomes the reluctant-hero type.”

Nodding along, Blake tried really hard not to give anything away in her expression.  Even if Yang was right, or close, Blake still wanted her to read the actual stories and see for herself.

“Grace and Micah fall in love,” Yang carried on, marking the chapters off on her fingers as she went.  “Beauty and the Beast fall in love, of course.  Bree lives and then lives happily ever after with her wolf-man.  Ditto for Isaac and Amber, but Isaac becomes a prince.  And the last chapter...well, those two were already cute as could be.”

Making it through the list, Yang gave Blake an expectant look - as if she might provide all the answers right at that moment.

“You’ll see,” Blake said instead, using the phrase one last time just for the fun of it and smiling when Yang laughed.

“‘I’ll see,’ alright,” Yang replied while picking up the entire stack of books and holding them in her arms.  “I’m gonna read all of these and then we can discuss every last detail.”

Yang grinned as if it was a playful joke, but the idea sounded like a dream come true to Blake.  Having someone to discuss all these stories with?  Someone who was invested in the characters and cared about the outcomes like she did?

“That...sounds really nice.”

‘Really nice’ was a very muted way to describe how amazing that sounded, but she didn’t want to dive into the depths of how much that would mean to her - at least, not at the moment.  If Yang really wanted to do that though, that might just make her...pretty perfect.

“Deal,” Yang said with a nod.  “I’ve never been that good at book reports, but I’m gonna memorize these suckers for you.”

After flashing a big grin at the proclamation, Yang shifted the books in her arms and looked a bit more hesitant.

“But, uh…” she began, briefly glancing towards the desk before meeting Blake’s eyes.  “I know we just spent like...an entire day together, it feels like...but I have a whole shelf of books at home that I've never read.  Maybe when you're done working, you can come over and try them out with me?  I mean, only if you want to.”

Not too long ago, that invitation would have absolutely floored Blake - mostly because the two of them hardly spoke enough to be considered more than acquaintances, let alone the type of people who went over to each other’s homes.  Now...the offer filled her with happiness as she nodded and said, “I'd love to.”

“Really??”  Whether truly surprised by the response or simply ecstatic that it was indeed a ‘yes,’ Yang’s smile grew.  “I mean, that’s great - I can’t wait.  To try out some more chapters with you.  And maybe, I dunno, we could grab something to eat before that?  I know I just ate, but I’m starving again.”

Now the invitation was for dinner and a chapter or two - basically, Blake’s dream date.  With her dream girl.

“I’d love to get dinner too,” she answered, smiling when Yang’s eyes lit up at the acceptance.

“Yeah?  Then let’s do that - just me and you.  Those two can go hang with their boyfriends or something.”  Yang gestured with her head towards her friends, who were now talking amongst themselves, but still keeping a close eye on the interaction.

“That sounds really nice,” Blake replied with another nod.  In her head, she thought that it sounded very much like a date - just the two of them grabbing a bite to eat before hanging out at Yang’s place - but she didn’t want to put that word out into the real world just yet.  Sure, they’d kissed several times already, but that didn’t mean she should assume anything would come of it...

Except she was totally assuming something would come of it.

“We can go as soon as you’re done with work?” Yang asked.  “What time are you off?”

Unsure what time it currently was, Blake looked at the clock before saying, “In half an hour.”

Glancing at the clock for herself, Yang frowned.  

“l thought you worked until eight on Wednesdays.” As soon as the words slipped out, Yang froze and turned back to Blake with a sheepish smile.  “I mean, not that I’m keeping track of your schedule or anything…”

“I thought you studied until eight on Wednesdays,” Blake admitted in return, waiting for Yang to connect the dots and then smiling when she laughed and shook her head.

“I tried to stick around until you left for the day.”

“And I tried to stay late until you were done studying.”

The two of them shared a look for a long time - one that was equal parts amusement and disbelief - until Yang finally chuckled.

“Well, we probably should’ve figured that out earlier, huh?” she commented before shaking her head.

“Yang -”

Looking towards the voice, Blake found that one of Yang’s friends had finally grown impatient and was standing at the door.  

“Sorry to bother,” she said, sending Blake an apologetic smile before giving Yang a more pointed look.  “But we have that...project...to work on, remember?”

“Righttt…”  

Yang’s response only made it blatantly obvious that it was a made-up excuse to call her back to the room, but she tried to play along regardless.  “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.  I’ll be right there.”

Satisfied with the answer, the girl nodded before ducking back into the room and closing the door.  Chuckling to herself, Yang turned back to Blake.

“I should probably get back to them...before they drag me back in there.”

Glancing towards the study room and finding the girls still waiting, Blake felt a small amount of concern appear spring into her chest when she returned her gaze to Yang.

“You're not going to...tell anyone, are you?” she asked, pointing towards the books in Yang’s arms.  

Any worry she might have had instantly disappeared when Yang scoffed.

“Please, and have to share you?” she asked before shaking her head.  “l don't think so.  I haven't been dragging my friends to the library every week for a year to share.”

The answer made Blake inexplicably happy, even though she could feel that their current time together was drawing to an end. Their separation should only be temporary - a half an hour at most - but she found herself wanting to extend their conversation as long as possible.  And, ironically, she kept coming up with more questions that would allow her to do just that.

“What will you tell them - about -?” she asked, gesturing to her mouth.

“Easy!  I'll tell them I wooed you with my words.  They'll believe that.”  When Yang smiled, Blake nodded - because she would also believe that Yang could walk up to a stranger and convince them to kiss her. Although that thought made Blake rather jealous at the moment...

“Uh, think we could do it again?” Yang asked, shifting the stack of books in her hands and playfully wiggling her eyebrows.

“Can't you woo me into agreement?” Blake teased, even though she knew she would agree no matter what Yang came up with.

“I sure hope so - do you want another inspirational speech?”

“Always.”

Laughing, Yang straightened her posture and tried to look more regal, but when she opened her mouth to speak...no words came out. After a few seconds of silence, Blake raised one eyebrow in surprise.

“Uh…you just shouldn’t wait to kiss people,” Yang said. “Because you never know when your next chance might be!”

The speech was so inspirational, Blake found it hard not to laugh.  Instead, she tried to maintain a stoic expression while narrowing her eyes in thought.

“Hmm…” she said while Yang hung onto her every word. “I think that one could use a little work...but I’m willing to agree in the meantime.”

“That’s all I’m asking for!”

Grinning, Yang leaned across the desk while Blake watched the somewhat-precarious books shift in her arms.  Any further and Yang was going to spill them all over the desk, so Blake stood up and leaned across to meet Yang’s lips before that happened. Pressing closer, Blake wove one hand through Yang’s hair and secretly wished the kiss wouldn’t stop - that they were back on that balcony by themselves.

But they were still in the library, so the kiss stopped far sooner than she wanted it to.  However, Yang didn’t move far away, and instead sighed against Blake’s lips.

“I hope I’m not the only one wishing we weren’t in the library right now…” she whispered before backing away and finding another trademark smile.  

“You’re not,” Blake replied, watching Yang grin while she walked backward across the library to the study room.

“Wait for me when you’re done?” she asked. “Like right here?”

When Blake nodded, Yang smiled and finally headed into the room, where her friends immediately hounded her for information on what had just happened.  After setting the books down on the table, Yang started talking while sending glances Blake's way every few seconds.

For her part, Blake couldn’t stop smiling. Even though she knew she should be a little embarrassed about being caught kissing someone in the library, she couldn’t wipe the grin from her lips.  Every glance and smile sent her way only added to the warm glow in her chest.

Sitting back down, she picked up the thin aluminum case that held her most treasured belongings and tapped it gently against her palm while lost in thought.

She never would’ve thought that sharing this secret with Yang would be so enjoyable or rewarding.  Not only was Yang engaged in the story, but she approached the living chapters in a way that Blake had never imagined.  Yang wanted to immerse herself in the story and environments as much as possible - she wanted to understand what the characters were feeling, but she also wanted to experience what they were going through.

Admittedly, Blake had always expected that this special gift would be reserved only for her, but…maybe there was something to be said for sharing those other worlds with another person.  Instead of lessening the impact of the experience, Yang’s approach made the chapters more exhilarating and fun…and Blake couldn’t wait to do it again.

Smiling to herself, she slipped the bookmarks back into her bag for safekeeping - knowing she’d be using them again sooner rather than later.  Based on how much she’d enjoyed those few chapters with Yang, she might never use them alone again.  

But if she did, she was definitely going to follow the main characters into the midst of battle, through a hurricane, and further into the turmoil.  

Wherever these journeys took her, she would follow. Because why watch, when she could experience?

@bmblbweek

[thestudyfeels]

Hello There!

Just a note: This is some real important stuff. ONLY read if you have like 10 min at hand. Otherwise, bookmark this and save it for your Sunday afternoon because this is truly about to change your life. No clickbait here, I promise.

I’ll hands down say that this is the most important thing you will read today. And if you, like most people, spend your time alternating between why does my love life suck ass and whining, “ok, but honestly, climbing Everest would be easier than tackling the mountain of homework Miss Honey assigned” then this is surely the most important thing you’ll have ever read in your life.

In fact, if you blindly stumbled upon my blog and wanted to check out what shit I write, let this article be the lucky one.

Get excited (beat your chest like King Kong, play this song and jump up and down like a bunny) because I’m about to change your life. Or not. Most of it depends upon you making the decision to. Alright, I'll get into the juicy stuff soon, Wilma. First hear me out. I’m about to drag your lazy ass out from your broom closet and out into the sun. I’ll make you feel guilty in this post. Not cuddle you or “understand that you are trying.” I won’t tell you that you’re a champ and “dreams are made of roses.” Because you’re not. At least not yet. And not to be a party pooper, but roses have thorns too. Just saying.

Instead, I'll try my hell best to make you realize that you're simply not doing enough. Caught yourself scrolling through your Insta feed when you’re supposed to be writing an essay? Aha!

In the end, I’ll try to get as brutal as brutal can possibly get, because homie? Life isn’t a joke. Stop living like it’s one.

Ok, So What’s This Bubble Anyway?

In the past 6 months, I’ve read a thousand self help books (Or was it 2500? I mean, legit, each tree in the forest had to die). All of them, yes every single one, had one thing in common that was literally being screamed right in your face. GET OUT OF THAT BUBBLE.

In the self help community, the bubble is known by different names - Ego, The Mist, Big Snooze, that old, grouchy librarian in your high school who particularly hates you for no reason. I like to call it the bubble. Bubbles are cute. Except this one.

The bubble is what locks you in a cage of fear, ignorance, negative friends, and everything else that isn’t shiny. It prevents you from seeing how awesome this world is, how powerful you are, the many opportunities that await, and how good it feels to be alive.

The sad part is that even though we are born free, a beautiful bundle of fearlessness and courage, we get trapped in this bubble as we grow older. The even sadder part of the story is that most people spend their entire lifetime in this bubble. They don’t bother with risks, don’t feel that they deserve to be loved, underestimate their potential, never see their dreams as a reality, and prevent others from doing their own damn thing.

They would rather waste their precious time whining about the horrible beans Mrs. Brown is serving in the cafeteria today.

"Why Get Out? I Like Bubbles."

Hon, if you're into bubbles, you've got stockholm syndrome, but trust me, you DO NOT want to be in it.

Don't you want to push past your limiting beliefs, knowing that everything you want to achieve is possible? Then, you’ve got to come out of the bubble. Don’t you want to let go of your fears, rise above them, and learn to commit to your goals? Then, come out of the bubble.Don't you want to shoot for the stars, become successful and leave a legacy behind? Then, GET OUT OF THE BUBBLE. I want you to create the life you want with the belief and drive that your entire life depends on it.

Because guess what? It does.

If you are still reading, it’s probably ‘cause you're realizing you're more lost than Dory was and maybe some parts of your life aren’t looking too good. Or maybe nothing’s going great. You were probably just heading out to look for free beer and this caught your eye. Well, forget the beer and listen up. Let’s get high on life here.

Everything you want is possible. And no, I’m not an astrologer saying things like “Jupiter hates Saturn. Saturn, however, has a crush on Mars. Therefore, now is the time to poop.”

Here, lemme give an example from my life.

Two years ago, I was living a crappy life. I had a bunch of very sucky friends, I was insecure about myself, seeking validation from those sucky friends again, failing at school (and life), and had self-esteem buried deeper than the Mariana Trench.

Two years later, I have two good ol’ homies for whom I can die for (and they for me) and many other friends who are freaking awesome. I am neither insecure about who I am nor do I take no shit from anyone. I’m not afraid to voice my own opinion and I’m killing it, both at school and at life. My GPA has never been higher, and neither has my self-satisfaction level.

So what changed? I still have the same body, the same bad eyesight (lmao) and the same obsession with One Direction. What changed was my perception about myself and what I can achieve.

But how did it change? I’m going to be that author and say, GET OUT OF THE BUBBLE. It's the evil bubble that's doing sneaky shit. It’s what convinces you that what you dream is impossible and you should choose something “sensible”. Basically, society’s opinion in one sentence. Not yours.

Now I ask you. Is this the life you want to live? Ordinary and boring? Doing what your parents want, what society wants, not what you want? Why should society’s opinion matter? Are your fears more important than what you basically breathe, your dream? In the words of John A. Shedd, “A ship in harbor is safe, but that isn't what ships are built for. They have to face the stormy seas.” In the same way, even though you might have to overcome thousands of struggles and doubts on the way to your dream life, you can’t simply give up and be like “Screw that. I’m okay with this babysitting job. I mean babies puking isn’t even that bad. C’mon.” Every human is meant for greatness. It’s honestly time people realize that. Burst out of the bubble already.

Popping The Bubble

So when do people wake up? It’s only when people find themselves in a near-death experience that they wake up transformed, realizing how every moment is valuable, and every day a chance to pursue their passions. They wonder how they could have led such a shit-ass life a week back and take action asap. This is because it’s only in these events that we realise, humans are mortal, and it’s a blessing to be alive.

Annnnd plot twist. Even then, society’s all like, Wtf Shane, are you really going to quit this really comfortable job to start a bakery? What about that bone chilling debt you are in? What about your two children?? Do you even know wtf you’re doing???

Like hello?! Of course Shane knows that! But he would rather live his dream life than die with you whining about the mushy beans at his funeral.

Fortunately, you don’t have to have a near-death experience to flip the tables. It’s all about making the decision to change. Getting out of the bubble is truly all a mental battle. You're either in it, or not, there's no halfway. Once you choose to make a difference in your life, there's no going back.

And as scary and maybe crazy this might sound, trust me when I say this - It is nowhere as bad as you waking up one fine day, realizing that you wasted years upon years, and still haven’t created a life meaningful to you. The regret will crush you. That, not the struggle for success, will break your heart, but then it’ll be too late. Too late to live your dream life, find true love, meet new people, and leave your mark.

Heck, you'll even feel guilty for 'forgetting' to water the plants, mate. I guess you 'forgot' to live your life too.

The only way of popping the bubble is by killing your past, confining beliefs. By truly believing in your dreams and the fact that they will be a reality one day. When we were kids, our innocent minds believed everything. What, a fat, red (possibly a tomato) man is going to drop down the chimney, eat up my Oreo cookies and leave gifts because I've been nice? Why shouldn’t he? That is how I want you to believe in your dreams now. No matter how crazy they are, just believe in them. Don't lose that conviction, don't listen to others. Blind faith, give me that.

Because you see, so many people today end up regretting their lives. They don’t live it when they have the chance, and in the end, they realize that Shane was right. Now he has a multi-million dollar bakery business and they're stuck at the same high school as the janitor.

[ I’ll tell you how to slay every single thing that comes your way in another post (don’t throw those tomatoes at me, lmao) but for now I want you to simply have faith in yourself. It's been known to move mountains. ]

The End Card

So what’s limiting you? Your lame friends? Leave them. Your stupid fears? Forget them. Your doubts? Drop them. Your life awaits, my darling. Make the choice to live it.

Finally! If you’re ready, here, take this pin (I used it to puncture society’s ego) and burst that bubble. Don't let that pin give this crazy adventure called life a flat tire.

Hopefully, this changed your life. I would like to end with a warning - The worst mistake a person can make is by delaying the good stuff. These are the people who end up with the most regrets. They say they’ll workout when they get done with this big project. They will change their lives radically when they have time, love more and become a better human tomorrow. That’s bullshit in its purest form. You’ll find them making the same excuses the next day.

Point is, time waits for no one. It’s flying by. Your life is happening right now. Tomorrow will be no different. So take action now. Sooner or later, you’ll find yourself as a 50 year old grandma, regretting the opportunities you missed out on, if you don’t give your all today. Is there something you’ve been wanting to do since Ice Age? Start on it today. Now is the time. One last thing. At the end of your life, the only person you’ll be accountable to you will be you. So be sure, be very goddamn sure, to live true to yourself.

I’ll be here cheering for you the loudest.

want to read more? view the other masterposts in the series “get your shit together, you are here to conquer.” :-

general tips for getting your shit together

loving yourself and letting go of negativity

understanding the meaning of your life

taking control of your life: a 3 part series (click here to view)

Well, it’s a wrap! I post new articles every week (the schedule’s up on my blog’s front page) so you can follow me if you are interested in killing the game & conquering life bc I’ll do my best to help you in the tough yet amazing journey called life.

If you want to go thru my blog, I would rec picking your choice of post from my masterpost list! Or, if you want to read something insightful on your cozy Sunday afternoon while chilling under ‘em blankets, I would rec reading one of my interviews. Feeling spoilt for choices? Here’s another! If you want to implement the ideas I share in my masterposts by taking action - take on one of my challenges! + you can also request a blog post! For that, leave your question in my ask box!

I hope you are well, stay strong and conquer life, you conqueror.

- nandini (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[cinnamonanddean]

Halfway Point Writing Roundup

Tagged by: Nobody specifically, but @babybrotherdean posted this and I thought it was cool, and I never wait to be asked anything lol

Current word count for the year: AO3 says 52675 - not bad, I think! I’ve dropped off a bit recently due to some IRL complications that will persist through the fall, but I’m still working on a couple of things here and there. 

Number of stories (including drabbles) posted on AO3: 42. I think this is the most I’ve written out of all my fic archive accounts. 

Fandoms I wrote for (2018): Supernatural. I’ve got a J2 AU fic in the works though - first ever RPF piece. 

Pairings I have written for (2018): Sam/Dean (including Smith/Wesson), and a couple of John/Dean drabbles posted here, but not AO3. I’d like to say that maybe some day I’ll branch out, but let’s be realistic...

Stories with the most kudos/bookmarks/subscriptions (2018): 

Most kudos: Got A Bad Desire. For all the people I see who say they don’t like Weecest...my stats beg to differ. Y’all love it. 308 kudos. 

Most bookmarks: Got A Bad Desire again - see what I mean? 41 bookmarks.

Most subscriptions: Oh wow, a category sweep for Got A Bad Desire. You naughties, I love you. 5 subscriptions.

Story I’m most proud of: From The Beginning. That fic had been a WIP since early last year, when I first started dipping my toe in the SPN fic waters, and I was so happy to finally get the motivation to finish and post it. It turned out just how I wanted it, and got some lovely art from @txdora to really bring it to life. 

My second proudest story this year: Skin Deep. Who doesn’t love a tattoo artist!Dean AU? I liked the rapport I built between the boys, in such a brief time, and I thought the humour was on-point. 

What’s ahead: Not sure really, because of those IRL complications I mentioned above, but I’m not hanging up my writer’s hat just yet; I’ve still got the Wincest Big Bang on the docket. There’s that J2 AU plot bunny that came outta nowhere and won’t let me live until I flesh it out. The Winchester Bros ‘zine that @winchesterzine is putting together. Maybe a drabble here and there. I’m trying not to get involved in too many official challenges, etc, because I find it actually makes me less productive, so we’ll see how things go with less structure and more whimsy!

Tagging: anybody who wants to toot their own horn a bit like me - hey, if you don’t love your own work, who else is gonna?

[shatteringzimmermann]

hello yes hi i got bored here’s part one

Shitty found him leaning heavily on the kitchen sink, the coffee pot beside him gurgling quietly.

"You okay?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder at his roommate. "Had another weird dream," he said. "I was-" he waved his hand in front of his face and he turned to lean against the sink. His eyes were shadowed and bloodshot.  "-blind. Stumbled around for what felt like hours, bumping into shit and nearly breaking my ankle falling off what must have been a curb or a rock." He cursed quietly. "There were other people there too, loads by the sound of all the voices. All blind and bitching about it."

Shitty hopped onto the island counter. His ass was a little closer to the corner than he had intended, but Jack's reoccurring-but-not-exactly-the-same dreams had been happening for months.

"And remember how I had that dream where everything was black and white until I met someone and then everything was in color?"

Shitty nodded. That was three months ago, and not even the first dream Jack had told him about.

"It was the same idea, but I guess I bumped into the right person and suddenly I could see." Jack frowned. "There was a lot of trash littered all over the place.” The crease between his eyebrows deepened. "I was wearing mismatched sneakers."

"Brah," Shitty said. "But what did they look like? Did you see them this time?"

The coffee pot chirped and Jack pulled two mugs from the cabinet. "No, but I'm starting to think it's a man," he said.

"Any reason why you might think that?"

Jack handed Shitty his Harvard Law mug and wrapped his fingers around his own Falconers one. "Just a feeling."

"Is this a...good feeling?"

Jack's right eyebrow rose.

"You know what I mean, man."

Jack hummed. "Yes, Shitty. It's cool that this mysterious person who may or may not be real but that I keep dreaming about may be male. I’m well aware I haven’t publically dated someone of any gender in years but I’m still okay with this dream person being a dude."

"Asshole."

 It made Jack smile and when he glanced out the window over the sink again he saw a flash of honey blonde hair before it disappeared in the rush of the morning commute sidewalk below.

 "Tell you what," Shitty said. "Start writing this shit down and I'll have my girlfriend paint you a book of these bizarre-ass dreams."

 "Girlfriend? When did that happen?"

 "Get that shit-eating grin off your beautiful face. It's the girl I told you about weeks ago."

 Jack hid his smile behind another sip of coffee. "Eh. She needs to pass the bathroom test."

 Shitty's mustache dipped into his light coffee, leaving the hairs looking like a paintbrush dipped in dirty water from a too-much-white canvas. "The fuckin what?"

 "Bathroom test. Marty told me he started doing it with his girlfriends over the years and his wife was one of the few who passed."

 Shitty frowned. "This isn't some sexist shit is it?"

 Jack shook his head. "When she comes over for a long weekend, how much of her girly crap takes over your bathroom?"

 "Literally none of that matters," Shitty protested. "She can do whatever she wants to feel good about herself. Why even do something this stupid anyway?"

 Jack rinsed his empty cup and tucked it into the top shelf of the dishwasher. "You're right, overall it doesn't matter. But you're not the kind of guy who wants a super high maintenance chick making him late all the time cause she’s still getting ready. You're more of a 'sorry we're late, we got stoned and were halfway through a box of donut holes before we realized the time.'"

 It made Shitty chuckle, but he shook his head. "While that last part may be true, I don't give two shits if she wants to use fruity body wash or wear makeup."

 Jack shrugged. "It's not a pass/fail text, eh? Just something to notice."

 Shitty hummed before pouring himself another mug. He’d decided, way back in high school, that relationship tests were stupid. A decade and a degree-and-a-half later, he hadn’t changed his mind. Jack, sweet, stupid Jack, hadn’t sat through entire semesters of Women’s Gender and Sexuality classes. Maybe there was a book Shitty could get Jack, maybe something comparing women’s rights from the American Revolution to modern day. It wouldn’t be as educational as having to sit through many classmates’ personal stories that still clung to his mind and changed the way he treated everyone around him, but maybe it would open the door for more conversation.

   It was barely a week later when the next dream happened. Two days after that, another. Then another and another and- Matching birthmarks, coincidentally identical tattoos, first words memorized by longing hearts. Palms that warmed when held by a soulmate.

 The dreams didn't bother Jack, per se, but the way he felt after was enough to pull him from bed and turn on the bathroom light. Dark shadows had been lining his eyes for most of his life but these dreams made it harder to pretend they weren’t there. It wasn’t sleeplessness that caused the shadows, either; Jack had always been too close with the ache in his chest. Sometimes he could keep it at an arms-length away. Sometimes it grabbed him by the waist and held him tight no matter how much Jack fought.

 Jack sat up, sheets falling to his waist, and buried his face in his hands. Breathing deeply for a few moments, Jack focused on the things he could feel and hear to ground himself in reality. He switched on the light when he finished. A history book titled 1776 sat on his nightstand and Jack pulled it off, opening it to his marked chapter.  

 The words blurred after a few pages. He sighed, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids.

 He was Jack Zimmermann, the first out bisexual NHL player. He’d never had to go a day without food or shelter and had gone to the most expensive rehabilitation center in Montreal after his accidental overdose. His parents ended each twice-weekly phone call with a we love you and we are so proud of you. And Shitty, who ran into Jack in a bar bathroom after a Falconers win talking himself through the beginnings of a panic attack, had quickly turned into his best friend. He was a good roommate too, prompt with the meager rent Jack charged and ready for a snuggle when Jack’s anxiety climbed to a suffocating level. Jack could hear him snoring from across the condo; the noise had been one of the things he’d used to center himself in the now.

 Jack dropped his book back on the nightstand, tossing his bookmark on the cover and turning off the light before turning away. He grabbed the extra pillow from the other side of the bed. He hugged it against his bare chest, squeezing tightly until his lungs reminded him to exhale. The cool fabric sent a ripple of goosebumps down his back and arms. Pulling the covers over his shoulder helped, but that coldness had settled into his chest a long time ago and no amount of distant lovers, platonic snuggles, and proud parents had ever been able to warm it. They stopped it from getting worse, from every ounce of his insides turning into a deadly winter storm like the ones he weathered inside a warm home, but sometimes…sometimes his feet were too numb to walk toward the laughing brunette at the cookout Marty had over the summer and his fingers were frostbitten when he thought about reaching out to the tan-skinned man with the sweet smile at the last Pride Parade.

 The morning summer sun found Jack wearing thick sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, eyes open and body shivering underneath enough blankets to melt ice.

 When he finally emerged from his room, still wrapped in one of the blankets, Shitty poured him a coffee and slid it across the island.

 “What was it this time?”

 Jack held the too-hot mug between his palms. “No dream,” he said.

 Shitty’s eyebrows rose as they drank in silence.

 “My last class is over at 12:30 and I could be back by 1:15,” his friend offered.

 “I thought you were hanging out with your girlfriend?”

 He spread his arms wide. “Brah. You come first.”

 “Bros before hoes?”

 “Yes, that’s right, brothers should always come before gardening tools.” It was a familiar banter. Jack’s shoulders lowered a few inches.

 “Hang out with your girl. I have meetings all day anyway.”

 It wasn’t a lie. He just had an hour and a half between his three meetings. Maybe he could manage a nap in the team room after morning skate.

 His skin prickled the second he locked the condo door, body unhappy with the lack of thick clothing in the hallway air conditioning. The few minutes he spent getting into his car and then out of it again at the rink was the only time he felt relatively warm.

 Jack’s teammates were familiar enough with his not-very-god days that no one bugged him about his sloppiness on the ice. He showered and changed quickly after Coach called the end of practice. His first meeting was with some journalists from Samwell, the college his mother went to. If he’d gone to college, Jack imagined he would have gone there. A couple of their guys had been drafted in recent years so clearly they were of elite caliber. Johnson and Oluransi, if he remembered right.

 The journalism students were nice; professional and understandably nervous. Jack made sure to chat with them for a few minutes before the interview started. Idle chit chat to get them used to him, to the way he spoke, to get over the fact that on my god that’s Jack Zimmermann. Their questions were ranged: everything from how he managed to still be drafted six years ago despite missing a full year of competition, to the charity he started in Providence.

“So much of my life has been obsessed with hockey. I wanted to create something that had nothing to do with it. This Colorful Home is about finding safe, long-term foster families for queer youth. No one deserves to become homeless or forced into unhealthy and dangerous living conditions because of their orientation or identity. I was raised by amazing and supportive parents who love me, not despite my mental health issues or my sexuality, but including them. They are the majority of why I'm still alive today. And-and the thought of children not having the same support system because of who they are-” He shook his head. “It's unacceptable.”

The students were all leaning back in their seats, faces paler than earlier. Jack huffed a quiet laugh. After a silence that had Jack reaching seven before anyone spoke again, there were a few more questions until the students were finished. He made sure to take photos and pass out signed t-shirts.

 When they left Jack retreated to the team room. There was no one else around to notice when he stopped hiding the way his hands shook. No one saw him go through his grounding routine or press the heels of his palms in his eyes. He'd gotten good at making people believe his anxiety was well-controlled and easy to live with. It's part of why he almost always agreed to interviews; the more normalized he can make bisexuality, the more people will realize he’s not a walking petri dish of STIs. The more normalized he can make anxiety, the less it will involve silent, life-long struggles. Maybe he could keep someone else from overdosing, someone who doesn’t have a teammate to find them before it was too late.

He was back to his media-ready façade for his next interview. It’s with a reporter from the local newspaper, an older woman Jack respected more than most people who got one-on-ones with him. Her questions always required more than the blanket “Well, we need to get the puck in the net” kind of responses. She never looked annoyed when he took too long to respond. Hopefully she wasn’t just pretending to be fine with it but calling him an idiot in her head.

Jack didn’t tremble as much after this interview, but it’s easier to handle a smaller chat than one with a bunch of people he didn’t know. There was still no chance of a nap. He sat on the overstuffed couch again, lights off, and did enough deep breathing that he got lightheaded.

His last interview was to brainstorm ideas for his upcoming You Can Play campaign. A few other guys in the league were out – Oluransi being one of them – and Jack wanted to do something with all of them. For starters, they’d all been using pride tape for every game. The tape company had even started making more color pairings for more sexualities.

That’s where Jack had gotten the idea for the name of his charity. Most non-LGBTQIA people didn’t realize the amount of colorful flags made for specific orientations. Jack had googled them and scrolled through for nearly two hours, reading the descriptions and history of all of them. So many colors, so many people, choosing to celebrate themselves. Jack had bought a bisexual one immediately.

His sticks were always wrapped in the blue, purple, and pink tape made especially for him. Trilman, a forward on the Schooners, used it too. Oluransi used the rainbow as did four other players. The Devils’ goalie used a black, purple, and white tape for asexuality.

By the time Jack dumped himself into his car a lose plan had been formed: This summer, post-Cup, all the out players would go on a US and Canada tour to speak to youth teams. Jack wasn’t sure how much it would help, to speak out against homophobia, transphobia, and racism in sports, but he had a list of colleges and junior teams to call over the next few weeks. It was a start.

Shitty found him less than an hour later, curled up on the couch in the blanket Jack had left there that morning. Jack wasn’t asleep – far from it- and his eyes ached as Shitty wrapped himself around Jack. He smelled faintly of weed and hot wings and cheap beer. When Jack could finally feel enough of himself to speak again his voice was hoarse.

“How as your date?”

“Fun. You’ll like her. She’s cool as hell.”

“Hell is hot.”

Shitty patted his cheek with a condescending touch. “It’s a good thing you’ve got that wonderful hockey ass,” he said, smiling.

Jack hummed, wishing he could rub his eyes but Shitty was latched on too tightly. “I think my baby cup pictures negate any attractiveness.”

After a pause Shitty rearranged himself so he straddled Jack’s lap, weight carefully held off of the knee that had been plaguing Jack for several years. Holding Jack’s face in his hands, Shitty told him, softly but firmly, “Everyone is embarrassed by shit they did as a kid. Your brain likes to remind you about it more than the non-mentally-ill person’s brain, yes, but what you did as a baby- or even something you did last week- doesn’t detract from your attractiveness.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest but Shitty continued. “Brah, you didn’t kill anyone or steal candy from any babies. And while we are definitely going to have a talk about that stupid bathroom test you’re not any less attractive or less worthy of love because of the struggles you’ve gone through.”

He felt the immediate tension in Jack’s jaw. “You’re my best friend, and nothing is going to change that.”

Jack had to pull his face away. Shitty pressed his hands on Jack’s shoulders instead. The pressure was enough for Shitty to feel the way his friend’s heart was pounding in his chest. Jack’s expression wasn’t one he recognized though; years of friendship and all he could tell was that Jack’s heart was breaking, and he didn’t know why.

“Brah,” he said, squeezing his hands gently. “You can talk to me about anything.”

Jack kept his mouth firmly shut but nodded. His gaze was hard, directed over Shitty’s shoulder. The only thing for him to stare at there was a blank section of the wall. Maybe he would put his next photo print there.

Twenty minutes later Shitty was sitting beside Jack, watching Netflix with Shitty’s legs draped over Jack’s lap. The blanket was spread over them, jostling every time Shitty laughed.

Jack was asleep before the end of the third episode.