#came for the spook stayed for the relatable writing feels

[goingmerryfics]

Law x mute S/O?

(Also love your fics <3)

Mute/Selectively Mute S/O w/ Law

Content: Gender neutral reader & SFW, Corazon mentions so spoilers for Law's backstory

Notes* I started writing for this, thought I was done, then came back to add more things because I remembered that Law used to know someone who was selectively mute…

Law

The minute he met you, he would want to know if your condition was something medical related. Whether selectively mute or not, he'd immediately be interested in finding out if there was a medical or psychological reason for you to be unable to speak

He may come off as insensitive because of this, but he doesn't mean to, and he would quickly apologize if you indicated that he'd insulted you

Speaking of insensitive, Shachi and Penguin try endlessly to ‘trick’ you into speaking

Even if you try to explain that you physically can't speak, they think it's a challenge

Bepo wouldn't mind, he'll chat away and appreciate that you're a good listener

Either way, Law knows sign language and he communicates with you that way if you are able to understand it. Being a doctor, he tries to have all his bases covered if there's ever an emergency with someone that can't talk

Otherwise he always keeps a notepad and pen on him if you need to talk to him

He may be a grump, but he's patient and understanding. He finds ways for you to communicate that work the best for you, especially for missions where he can't keep an eye on you

Best believe that if there was a way to cure you, he'd make that a top priority. If it was medical, he's got that down

But if it's related to anxiety or PTSD or stress, he'd take care to be more cautious around you to try and help you open up a little easier. He's not on you all the time in full therapy mode, it's actually the opposite. He gives you the space you need to choose to speak when you're ready.

He's at peace with knowing that he will/may never hear you talk, but in his opinion, your voice doesn't matter as much as the rest of you does

If you do have the ability to speak though, you would eventually find him working away in his office as usual

You smooth your hands over his shoulders and lean down to kiss his cheek, and he sighs out his tension and smiles a bit

“Are you trying to convince me to take a break?” He shifts so he can get a good look at you and kiss your cheek

You whisper that you miss him and even though his eyes widen, he doesn't want to spook you by making it a big deal that you spoke.

It's easier to pull him out of his chair that day and drag him to bed so he can rest his eyes

Spoilers below

Even though you'd spoken once, that doesn't mean you'll do it again and he understands that- but as time goes on, creeping memories begin to surface and haunt him

You weren't that similar to Cora, but the muteness was starting to remind him of the man he'd lost long ago, and slowly he starts to feel like maybe this was a sign that he was cursed and might lose you, too

All of the sudden, his plans against Doflamingo don't involve you anymore

He's stuffed himself in his office more, researching your condition and trying to come up with some sort of cure or treatment

He's so worried about losing you that he doesn't realize he's losing time with you

He's started to avoid you, finding it hard to stay around you when he's this anxious about your fate

Eventually you get him to open up about it and he does so teary eyed, but after a long conversation he agrees to relax a little and you assure him that you're not going anywhere

[shizzlepianist]

“good morning, dr. spengler..”————————————————-

a/n: WOOOOO my first EVER oneshot! excuse how terrible this may be, the last time i remember writing anything related to oneshots/fanfics was when i was about 11? soo if this is terrible then my sincerest apologies 😭

this is essentially an introduction between (Y/N) and Spengs, after you call for a Ghostbuster to come check out a paranormal experience happening in your home, and it just happens to be Egon.

FYI: This story uses the title ‘Miss’, when the character is being addressed, so just putting that out there first! Also, as I’m sure you’ll already know, (Y/N) and (L/N) refer to your first and last name.

There is also a usage of the word ‘God’, used in an expression-y sort of way, so if that offends anyone then please do let me know so I can change it for next time!

enjoy!! :)

———————————————————————

An abrupt clattering coming from your kitchen was what woke you up at nearly 4 a.m.

Thoroughly disturbed, you sat bolt upright and turned on your bedroom lamp, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and slowly moving out of bed to go investigate the mysterious noise.

Another bang.

You jumped about a foot off of the floor, before continuing and not letting your downright fear get the better of you.

Eventually, you reached the kitchen, and turned on the light. Three china plates had ‘mysteriously’ fallen out of the cupboard and smashed onto the floor. Little pieces of plate were scattered all over, much to your disappointment. As if on cue, a growling noise came from your pantry door. It took you less than a second to fling the door open and investigate what the noise was.

A vast, cloudy setting appeared in front of you, and an ancient building could be seen in the distance. “Z U U L”, cried a demonic voice.

That was it. The pantry door was slammed, the kitchen light was turned off and you were running back, screaming. Once you reached your bedroom, you wrapped yourself in the covers and tried desperately to fall back to sleep. No luck.

A few hours passed, and it was now a reasonable time to get up. You didn’t dare go near the kitchen, so you stayed in your apartment living room and turned on the TV.

You didn’t pay much attention to the TV for long, as you had your head stuck in a magazine you had found at the local newsagents. That was, until, you heard an advert on television.

“Are you troubled by strange noises in the middle of the night?” questioned a friendly-looking man, whose name tag read “STANTZ.”

A second man, named “SPENGLER”, asked, “Do you experience feelings of dread in your basement or attic?”

“Have you or any of your family ever seen a spook, spectre, or ghost?” inquired the third, “VENKMAN”.

Stantz continued, “…if the panswer is yes then don’t wait another minute. Pick up your phone and call the professionals.”

“GHOSTBUSTERS,” they said in unison.

“Our courteous and efficient staff is on call twenty four hours a day to serve all your supernatural elimination needs,” Stantz informed.

“We’re ready to believe you!” was the final sentence of the advert, but even before that you had already picked up your telephone and dialled the number on-screen.

Within seconds, a Long Island accent spoke down the phone.

“Hello, Ghostbusters, how can I help you?”

“Uh… t-… there was some strange noises coming from my kitchen this morning, like bangs, and.. and clatters, and then when I checked, three of my plates had been thrown on the floor and smashed. And then, and then… I heard snarling coming from my pantry, and there was this creature in there saying “Zuul.”Could you send someone to come check it out?” You said in one long, quick sentence.

“Absolutely, just let me know the address and I’ll send someone straight to you,” the lady replied.

Sure enough, you gave her your address. “Thank you!” you chimed, before putting the phone down and tidying up a little before the Ghostbuster arrived. Playing back the advertisement, you looked at the man whose name was “SPENGLER”.

He is incredibly handsome, you thought. You were hoping on the inside that Dr. Spengler would come and analyse the scene that had occurred in your-

Knock, knock.

Jeez, how close is the Ghostbusters’ office?

You opened the door to meet a tall, bespectacled man with a charming smile and slightly curly hair.

He held his hand out and smiled, “Dr. Egon Spengler, nice to meet you.”

“Good morning, Dr. Spengler,” you replied, your tummy filling with that butterfly feeling.

“Where was the ghost activity that happened this morning? Janine, our receptionist didn’t tell me anything except your address and that you needed some help,” he chuckled, making your heart skip a beat again.

“In there,” you pointed to the kitchen door.

“Okay, has there been any more phenomena since you called?”

You shook your head.

Egon held a device in his hand that had little arms protruding out of it, slowly lowering and then getting higher, then lower, and so on, and made his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, jeez, it seems you really did need our help,” claimed Dr. Spengler, directing his eyes to the pieces of china plate laying on the floor.

“What is that thing?” you asked, motioning to the thing he was holding.

“This is a PKE meter, we use them pretty often. It helps us detect how much supernatural activity there is in an area. If the arms are at a low height, then there’s little to no activity and no need for a full-blown bust. If the arms are right at the top, then it’s serious and we have to deal with it immediately. At the minute, the level of paranormal activity in your kitchen is just over halfway, which obviously isn’t ideal but not the worst.”

“Ohh,” you responded, nodding slowly.

Shuddering, Egon turned his attention to some gooey green slime that was collecting on the edge of the plate cupboard.

“Great. Ectoplasm,” he collected a little bit in a small plastic tub, before asking, “…would you mind coming back to the firehouse, just to run a few tests and to further investigate your phenomena?” questioned Spengler.

“No, no, I wouldn’t mind at all,” you smiled, leading Dr. Spengler out of your apartment, locking the door and heading down the building stairs to the Ghostbusters’ car.

When you arrived at the firehouse, the three scientists you had seen on TV, Venkman, Stantz (who had both introduced themselves to you as Ray and Peter) and Spengler were all asking you questions and running tests. Sticky pads wired up to a machine were attached to your temples, and you could see it was being managed by Dr. Spengler.

“What do you think it was that caused your plates to smash, Miss..?”

“(L/N). (Y/N)(L/N). Uh, I mean, I think it was a ghost or a spirit that did it, hence why I rang up this morning. I think it’s something like a… a.. poltergeist? Isn’t that a ghost that throws things?”

“You are absolutely fantastic, Miss (L/N). Absolutely phenomenal, that’s correct,” called Dr. Venkman, smiling and applauding you.

Egon rolled his eyes. “Venkman, will you quit trying to chat up our clients, please?” he remarked, while adjusting the tabs on your head and looking at the screen to his left.

Both you and Ray laughed, while Venkman’s facial expression was stone cold.

“I don’t think he found that very funny,” you laughed, which made Stantz roar with laughter again, and Peter leave the room.

“Alright, so your tests all seem to be normal, so that means whatever paranormal entity is in your apartment hasn’t reached you, thankfully,” concluded Egon, gently removing the testing tabs from you.

Picking up your bag and coat, you thanked the boys for their help, and made your way down the firehouse stairs.

You were swiftly followed by the Ghostbusters, who waved goodbye to you and asked you to call back if anything else happened.

As they turned away to walk back up the stairs, you called out,

“…Dr. Spengler?”

He turned on his heel quicker than he had arrived at your apartment. “Hm?”

“I- I’d like to give you this,” you slid a piece of paper with your number written on it into his hand, and smiled.

He looked down at it through his glasses, lifted his head up and smiled back.

“Thank you, Miss (L/N). I’ll make sure to give you a call at some point. Thanks again for calling this morning,” he put his hand on your shoulder, failing to wipe the smile off of his face. He was smiling like an idiot as he removed his hand from your shoulder and walked away.

When you had finally left the firehouse, you let out a sigh of relief mixed with infatuation.

God, he was handsome.

———————————————————————

ending a/n: help i feel like this is gonna be a flop with a capital F loool , if you enjoyed this let me know and i’ll make more ig?? have a great day/night everyone 😌😌

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 3

houghhh

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

Chapter alternatively titled 'Sayaka's plan delayed because Makoto decided to introduce Byakuya to Shin Ramyun.' Sorry Sayaka this scene was too funny to take out.

This Byakuya is a lot less antagonistic than canon Byakuya. But mostly because he's too busy dealing with some other stuff to worry about being the biggest asshole on the block.

He's also an unreliable narrator. Not just because he's blind here, but also because his thinking pattern is sometimes wildly out of the realm of usual logic, thanks to his upbringing.

Content warning tags: mild panic moment (I hesitate to call it a panic attack because I did not write this with that in mind, but Byakuya gets spooked by the lights going out and feels vulnerable)

< previous - from start - next >

Against his better judgment, he lets Naegi lead him to the cafeteria.

The halls are more or less empty, but some people are occupying a table when they arrive. He watches the dark-brown dollop of Asahina's head bob up as they walk in, and sees Ogami raise one of her heavy arms to wave. "Hey Makoto! And-" Asahina cuts off suddenly as she sees Byakuya behind him.

He’s not surprised by the sudden aversion. He hadn’t exactly been trying to put himself in the good graces of everyone around him. But he hears Ogami say "Byakuya," in polite acknowledgement, so he jerks his head back in a stiff nod.

"Hi, Hina. Hi, Sakura." Makoto greets back warmly. "Is there any soup left?"

"Well, it's just a little bit. It was really good, so we came back for seconds...and also thirds. And I think so did a few other people." She gives a sheepish laugh. "Sorry, if we knew you wanted any, we would have saved some more."

It takes Byakuya a moment to realize she's addressing him. "...It's fine." It's not like he was planning on eating from the same pot as everyone else, definitely not tonight when tensions were so high.

"What are you guys still doing here anyways? I thought everyone would be back in their rooms by now."

"I got antsy just waiting in my room, so I came out here to have some tea until curfew. Sakura happened to be here at the same time, so we figured he'd hang out together." How casual. That easy-going attitude was bound to get her killed if she wasn't careful. "Oh yeah. Sayaka came by a little earlier for some water."

“O-oh, really?” There’s a note of relief in his voice that was so pathetic it was almost funny, if Byakuya was in the mood to laugh. “I’m glad, she was really shaken up earlier. Thanks for letting me know!"

"Remember! Ishimaru said it's unwholesome to stay in opposite-sex dorms!" Asahina calls after him in a teasing lilt as they walk towards the kitchen, and Makoto stumbles, stammers something in denial in reply, and then picks up his pace, the back of his neck turning obviously pink.

Byakuya snorts when he notices. As if what Asahina was teasing about would ever happen; even with his reduced senses, he was well aware of Maizono's relation with Naegi from their interactions during morning meetings, and how that girl was jerking him around like a fish on a hook. The only person too stupid to realize that was the fish himself.

He pauses suddenly, standing in the middle of the kitchen. Maizono was someone who was deceitfully innocent, and a dangerous person to be around. The way she subtly took over during morning meetings with her polite, pretty demeanor and gentle gestures wasn't something that had escaped him. Sure, it was likely that Makoto was of the same type as her, deceptively clever and disingenuous in his friendliness, but he was also dancing in her palm. The two went to the same middle school, Byakuya had overheard, and Makoto was clearly nursing a crush on someone out of his league.

And yet, here was that girl, beyond his reach, playing at being his friend, sticking to his side. Right after the revealing of the first motive, she had been the first one to run from the room in a fit of anguish; there wasn't any doubt in Byakuya's mind that she was probably one of the most desperate to leave right now. And someone clever enough to actually have a chance at succeeding.

"Byakuya? What are you doing?"

"...Nothing." He says shortly. And moves to stand behind where Naegi was crouching, in front of a low pantry shelf stuffed with a mess of colored packaging.

"These are the instant meals. It's mostly noodles, but a lot of it is pretty high-end stuff. There's also some microwave stuff for curry and rice, and this Italian-rice thing...ri...rizz-oh-doh? I think?"

"'Risotto.'" Byakuya corrects him.

"Right, right. There's also ingredients for a sandwich or something. And I think there's some chicken nuggets in the freezer, too..." He must have seen the look of disgust on Byakuya's face, because he hurriedly says: "But, probably not that, right?"

None of it sounded particularly appealing to Byakuya. But he was hungry, and it wasn't like he'd never eaten commoner staples before. "Anything is fine. Pick for me."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. I don't care." He waves his hand dismissively. "Ah, but if I don't like it, then I'll be suing you as soon as we get out of here for attempted poisoning."

He smiles inwardly as Naegi sputters, fumbling the packets in his hands. He doubted that there were any good sources of poison here, and trying to concoct something completely undetectable out of the few resources available to them was highly improbable. Besides, after enough assassination attempts, he had a decent tolerance for most poisons and was capable at detecting most of them, so he doubted such a thing would actually kill him; though as it was, he resolved to watch Naegi closely through every step of the cooking process.

"Here-um, how about this one?" The boy holds up a packet, black with red accents. "This one's pretty popular. Its flavor is spicy, uh...puh...pot aow fool?"

"...It's pronounced 'pot-au-feu', you half-witted buffoon." Byakuya rolls his eyes with a scoff. "I'm not sure how you've lived this long without a lick of French."

Naegi just chuckles awkwardly, sounding abashed. "Well...whatever it's called, I think it tastes pretty good. And it's supposed to have bone broth in it, which is supposed to be healthy? I'm pretty sure, at least." He stands up with the packet, and holds it out in Byakuya's direction.

"...What?" Byakuya asks, bemused. "Don't tell me you expect me to prepare this myself."

All he gets is stunned silence. If he had to guess, Naegi was probably confused, and Byakuya sighs, exasperated.

"All my food is prepared for me," He says, slowly, like explaining it to a child. "I'm not sure how you peasants have to deal with fending for yourself in that regard, but I have never had to prepare anything for myself in my entire life."

"...So, you don't know how to make instant noodles?"

"...I never said that." Even at his lowest points, he had never had to worry about going hungry. That had always been someone else’s concern. "But 'knowing' and 'doing' are entirely different things, you know."

"It's just boiling water and the noodles, though. And adding the flavoring packet."

"I fail to see the point you're trying to make."

Naegi makes a small sound, something between a sigh and a chuckle, and Byakuya feels irritation flare up, his ears beginning to warm. "Don't look at me like that."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Here, I'll make it for you."

He hovers over Naegi's shoulder the whole time, watching him do everything from boil the water to opening the noodles, but also chopping up green onions and cracking an egg (which, as he explained to Byakuya's questioning, was how he preferred to eat his noodles, though he could leave them out if he wanted. Byakuya decided to leave it). "Do you want chili-garlic oil in it? Junko added a lot to tonight's dish earlier, but it was actually a little too spicy for me."

"No. I'm not interested." Byakuya replies, before suddenly finding himself feeling irritated at having a similar preference as Naegi, of all people.

The end result is a rather hefty bowl, fragrant and swimming with color. Despite it being just a hastily whipped-up dish of cheap, scattered ingredients, Byakuya finds his mouth watering at the mere smell. Naegi hands him a pair of chopsticks.

"We should probably carry that to your room. It'll be ten o'clock soon." Naegi says, and Byakuya nods as he accepts the utensils, wrapping them in a napkin and placing them in his pocket. They click against the screwdriver, and suddenly he’s reminded of the situation they’re in.

He frowns, curling his hand around the handle. It’d be pointless to try and stab Naegi hare, but for a moment he had been forgetting himself. Forgetting the wariness he should be practicing at all times.

"Carry it for me." He orders, and Naegi, perhaps used to hearing his commands at this point, picks up the bowl without protest, holding it delicately between his hands. "If you spill, you're cleaning it up."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..."

He follows the shorter boy out of the kitchen. Asahina and Sakura are still there, though in the process of cleaning up and leaving - they wave as Naegi passes, and Byakuya ignores them - and then they're out of the cafeteria, walking in the direction of the dorms.

And it should have been - would have been - all fine, if the lights in the hallway hadn't suddenly dimmed in preparation for the nightly curfew. Immediately, Byakuya's vision drops, the colors washed out by gray, and even Naegi's movements become vague and less obvious besides him, blending in with their surroundings as just a slightly darker blot on the monochrome background. It's not as if the lights had gone completely out, or if his vision had been completely obscured; but for an instant, Byakuya has the irrational feeling of being entirely, totally alone.

Before he can stop himself, Byakuya's hand reaches out, and his fingers hook into the soft fabric of the other boy's hood.

"U-uh? What?"

Naegi stops in his tracks, and he turns, the cheap cotton dragging through Byakuya's fingers. "Byakuya? Is something wrong?"

He can't respond. That brief moment of anxiety was still thrumming through his veins, and he finds himself unable to speak, still working through the sudden burst of dread. Every single morning, he had woken up and found himself afraid to open his eyes, worried that his vision had worsened overnight, and every morning he found himself both relieved and disgusted when there was no change. He thought he had gotten used to it, at this point, adapted to it, and hidden it well, but…

That clearly wasn't the case. The sudden plunge into darkness had brought him back to when he first woke up in this twisted school, blind and helpless and stumbling. Utterly alone.

"Byakuya, hey. I'm right here."

Something warm presses against his front. It’s Naegi, leaning into his chest. He can feel the shorter man’s hair rustling against his shirt. "Take a deep breath, okay? I'm right here."

Deep breath? He acts as if Byakuya was panicking, which was preposterous. And the assumption that his presence was comforting was stupid and absurd. "I'm fine." He says, but his voice sounds rougher than he intends.

"Yeah, I know." Naegi replies, and his voice is soft, and a balm on Byakuya's nerves. "I'm gonna walk towards your room, okay? You can keep holding onto my hood."

"I don't need to," He mutters back, but it's a useless protest. His hand stays wrapped in the hood of Naegi's jacket as they start moving again, this time slower than before. 

The screwdriver is still in his pocket. Byakuya closes his eyes, letting everything fall to complete darkness, and finds he can still hear the sound of Naegi's breath, calm and repetitive.

"We're here."

He opens his eyes, and reaches out to his left, his hand meeting the wooden plane of his door. He releases Naegi's jacket to fish the key out of his pocket, and it only takes him two tries before he manages to slot it into the keyhole, and he pushes his way inside.

Here, the lights are on, and it's a relief to be able to recognize things again, however murky. He turns just in time to catch Naegi, once more a mass of earthy colors, setting the bowl on his nightstand with a quiet sound.

"Wait," And again, he was acting before he was thinking, before he could stop himself. It was something that was unbecoming of him, something that should only be done by the primitive and uncivilized, and yet he couldn't feel disgusted about it just yet. "Makoto."

The forest-colored shape stops at the door. "Yeah?"

"Stay." It's meant to be an order, but it doesn't sound like one, not even to himself, too soft and desperate and pleading. But Naegi turns away from the door at least, and Byakuya lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "We need to talk."

The insufferable commoner makes him eat first, before talking. Makes him sit on the edge of the bed with the bowl in his lap (because for some preposterous reason, their rooms all lacked chairs, of all things), and tells him to eat as much as he can, and he'll be back soon, he needs to 'go check on Sayaka, she'd been asking after me earlier...'

That woman is using you, Byakuya's tempted to say. But instead, all he said was: "Hurry up, then. Don't leave me waiting." Before the door shuts behind him, and he was gone.

It was rather infuriating. For once, Byakuya had made a request (he won't call it a plea, because he never made pleas, not even for his own life) - and that senseless, dim-witted fool had prioritized her over him. As if Byakuya wasn't the smarter of the two options, the one who could offer more, anything - the one Naegi should have been trying to get into the good graces of, as he had been earlier. And yet, all it took was a foolish, half-formed infatuation with Maizono, and now Byakuya was alone again.

At least the food was decent. It was salty, certainly, and a little overpowering in the spices, but it was warm and filling and acceptable enough, and he finished it surprisingly quickly. After which point, Naegi still hadn't returned, and with nothing else to do he took it upon himself to start preparing for bed.

It's as he's brushing his teeth, and staring at the yellow smudge of his head in the mirror, that he realizes the deplorable state he'd fallen into. First he let Naegi, of all people, wheedle him away from the safety of his room to go eat of all things, and furthermore, he let that peasant prepare his food in the middle of a killing game. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he put on that trembling, pathetic display in the hallway, freezing up just because the lights went out, like a child-

And then, letting Naegi help him. Letting him offer that simple, stupid reassurance, and then feeling comforted by it. By that ugly, underhanded pity that Byakuya hated so much.

It disgusts him so much he could puke.

It's this cursed blindness, he thinks, and not for the first time, he presses fingers to his closed eye, a pointless motion. If it weren't for this, he wouldn't be so helpless, so dependent, and so easily manipulated by such cheap tactics. If it weren't for this, his existence as a Togami wouldn't be as perilous as it is now.

He needed to resolve this as soon as possible. By any means possible.

I can't let him get the better of me again.

< previous - from start - next >

[cutealienenby]

making a note for therapy.

I was thinking about how I have experienced the effects of trauma throughout my life, wondering about ptsd symptoms and whether or not it applies (it probably does I've just never had a therapist say the words to me). one symptom listed is nightmares, and I do have a clear memory of one time when my best friend slept over and I woke her with a nightmare I was having about (abusive person). that train of thought seemed to unlock related memories about my trouble with sleepovers during middle school. I would wake up in the middle night, regardless of whose house I was at, and go to the bathroom to conceal my panic attacks. One time it was so severe that I vomited and had to be picked up. Remembering this was one experience to note, but the other is that as I was remembering this, as soon as the memories of those midnight panic attacks came up, my brain shut down like someone pulled the plug on a desktop PC. I went from having a curious investigatory train of thought to falling numb, limp, and mind blank almost immediately. I felt so heavy and disconnected from the present it almost felt like I was falling asleep. Idk how long I stayed that way and eventually I came out of it, and it spooked me enough that I came here to write it down. But as soon as I got to the part of the post about the panic attacks, I felt the shutdown feeling again. I had to sort of switch off the physical and emotional sensors in me and put myself in this purely intellectual state to be able to write about it. Somehow I feel this is what happens during the few therapy sessions where I am able to discuss traumatic events in any detail-- I switch off everything but the facts-processing and recite them like it's an oral history test. Even my therapist commented on it once-- she asked me how it felt to tell the story I had told, and expressed surprise when I said I was overwhelmed by emotion. I imagine now that this was true, just not expressed in the typical way. Instead of being overwhelming within the tolerable amount manageable through crying, fidgeting, etc, it was so overwhelming that I chose not to feel anything at all.

[verecunda]

Revising ought to be enjoyable. Your work is no longer a mountain toppling over you: it is under your hard. Your theme has proved feasible, has shaped up; crisis and climax are in their places; your characters have life in them, you know what your reactions would and would not be. You work in confidence, no longer apprehensive that your plot will prove unmanageable or that your characters will refuse to function or that your theme will turn out to have no play in it after all.

The Uninvited, Dorothy Macardle

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Sole Breaks Down

Request: “Could I ask for companions comforting a sole that’s usually an emotional rock, that they hadn’t seen this vulnerable ever? Like they come back from being away and just crumble into a sobbing mess. Pretty please?”

Note: *bangs spoon against pot* come get the hurt/comfort. CW: Mentions of unnamed characters deaths.

The setting:

Upon Preston’s request, Sole took off to a distant settlement to reorganize their resources, set up defenses, and bring them into the trade route. These excursions usually took about a week or two, so Sole could make sure they were fully stable before returning to Sanctuary to attend to their other duties. With this trip, however, they requested their companion stay in Sanctuary; they could handle this on their own, and the companion deserved a break.

Two weeks later, Sole returns, shoulders weighed down by their pack, ladened with goods the settlers had insisted they take with them. It had been a tough week, though that wasn’t really a new thing in Sole’s book, or anyone’s, really. Unfortunately, Sole hadn’t been able to predict the fact that some sort of disease would run through the tiny settlement while they were there, taking several of the members with it as it left.

They scrubbed at their skin in a nearby body of water every morning of those two weeks, rubbed raw and pink as a result of Sole’s quietly hysterical distress. They wanted no trace of settlement on them. There were elements of guilt in their relief to return home, but with returning home came the fact that they were safe enough to reflect on their weeks away from Sanctuary. There seemed to be no hiding from what had happened.

Sole got through the main street of Sanctuary well enough, sending nods to passing settlers, with a brief stop to drop off some of the food they had brought back with them with their local merchant; he would give it away to those that dropped in throughout the day. Once they made it down the road and to the entrance of their home, they felt the dam break. Their hands shook as they pulled the door open and moved inside, doing their best to ignore the tears that began to trickle down their face.

(*Gage’s scenario takes place upon their return to Nuka World’s Fizztop Grille)

Cait:

Cait was waiting just inside, having taken up residence in Sole’s living room with Dogmeat.

She went to make a joke about Sole being late, but when she looked up, she lost the words quite quickly

Sole’s shoulders were shaking, and it was quite obvious that they were trying to hide that they were crying, but it was impossible to not see

She practically tripped over herself to get to Sole, who was acting casual by rearranging the items in their back they had set on the floor

Her desire to comfort and protect Sole overrode her hesitance for physical affection and she found herself hugging Sole far too tightly than she should’ve

But it was partially panic on her end that caused her to grip them so tight

“Christ, what’s a matter?”

The only sound Sole made was a choking whimper and Cait gripped them even tighter

Curie:

She reads the distress in their stance the moment they cross the threshold into their home

Similarly to Cait, she gets up from where she’s sitting immediately, but stops short of Sole

“Oh, goodness. Are you alright?” She reaches out but doesn’t quite touch them, not wanting to intrude

Sole shakes their head, unable to disguise their very obvious distress

“Physical or emotional?”

Sole opens their mouth to say emotional and gets out about half the word before choking on their own breath and curling forward into themself

“Would you like a hug?” Her voice is quieter this time.

Sole nods and she brings them in for a soft hug, rubbing their back

Danse:

Danse is far more emotionally intelligent when it comes to other people’s feelings than people give him credit for

He’s seen it happen before; soldiers compartmentalize their emotions as much as they can, for years even, but everyone has a breaking point

And sometimes it’s over something one might consider small, like breaking a dish, or sometimes it’s loss that brings them to their knees, as it would anyone

Regardless, he’s known all along that one day Sole won’t be able to suppress their emotions anymore

When they come in crying and shaking, looking defeated, he’s unsurprised. Sad in an inevitably knowing sort of way

He gets up and walks over, taking their pack from their hands and helping them shed the heavy jacket that was weighing them down

He requests they sit and takes off their boots before going to get them a glass of water

He doesn’t say much, considering he doesn’t have much to say, but he’d much rather show how he cares via actions rather than words, anyway

Deacon:

He’s somewhat similar to Danse in the fact that he knows Sole’s going to need to break at some point, however it’s in less of a “I’ve seen this before” attitude and more in the fact that he can relate

But Sole has an easier time trusting than he does, so he knows their break is coming at some point, whereas he knows that there’s never going to be a point where he allows someone else to see what Sole is allowing him to witness

So when they stand there, defeated, looking over at him like a lost child, he simply opens his arms

He’s not one for hugs, but he makes exceptions, and it seems this is one of those situations that calls for an exception

When they sob into his shoulder, he pats them on the back and replies with a simple, “I know, Boss. I know.”

Gage:

Gage is chewing at a piece of dried Mirelurk, grimacing at the salty taste.

Sole makes their way across Fizztop Grille, dropping their pack carelessly next to one of the couches.

Similarly, they drop down next to Gage where he’s sitting overlooking the rest of Nuka World, not saying a word.

After a moment, punctuated by a very obvious sigh, Gage looks over at Sole. He chews contemplatively for a moment, “You and me both. Wanna talk about it?”

Sole shakes their head and Gage responds, “Cool.”

He pats them on the back, admittedly, awkwardly and a bit too harsh to be comforting, but it’s Gage

He’s doing his best

Haylen:

Haylen has Dogmeat in her lap chewing at a Radstag bone, her hand running mindlessly over his fur

She doesn’t jump up when Sole comes in, cautious at the idea of spooking them

“Sole,” She calls out, shifting to move her feet flat on the floor

When they don’t respond and instead sniffle, she’s motioning Dogmeat off her lap and stepping towards them

“Everything alright?”

Sole shakes their head and she presses her lips together in worry, “Anything I can help with?” another shake of Sole’s head

She brushes their hair away from their face with a soft, “Oh, Sole.” and brings them into a light side-hug

Hancock:

He really does like to think he keeps his cool easily, but he really doesn’t in this case

Sole’s crying and that’s not something he thought would ever happen

“Whoa, whoa. Talk to me, what’s going on, Sunshine?”

“Bad day.” Sole chokes out

He suppresses nervous laughter, knowing it can’t just be that, but lets it go and instead puts an arm around their shoulders to pull them in for a tight hug, snug and reassuring, with his other arm finding their waist

MacCready:

He’s alert immediately, thoughts jumping to them being hurt, and potentially fatally so

Considering he thinks its an emergency, he’s in front of them and examining them for injuries within seconds

Sole doesn’t protest for the longest time, but eventually they grab ahold of his wrists and shake their head

He stops for a moment and looks them over again before sighing; this is something he doesn’t know what to do about

“Sit. You’re going to collapse if you’re not careful.”

When they’re seated he helps them shrug off their coat and sits nearby, not pressuring, but available if they want to talk

Nick:

Nick’s view is similar to Danse’s, and he isn’t quite surprised when they come in crying

He sets the pen he was writing with down and shifts back in his chair, opening his arms for a hug if they want

When they cross the room he wraps them in a hug and rubs their lower back, trying his best with the awkward angle him sitting provides

“You need to take time for yourself.” He recommends, but other than that, he remains mostly silent

Piper:

The queen of panic, despite her best efforts

She’s used to tears because of her experiences with Nat, but not from Sole of all people

She does something similar to Mac, where she checks them over briefly, before she realizes this isn’t a physical injury that’s hurting them

She’s competing with Cait when it comes to tight hugs, wishing she could protect them from whatever’s bothering them so

A sympathy crier, she has to blink away her own tears

“Let it out, Blue. We can talk about it later, okay? Everything’s gonna be just fine. I swear.”

Preston:

Preston’s not sure how to handle things, considering how used to Sole being a rock he is

He knows it’s not quite right, considering he knows other people view him the same way, and it’s incredibly difficult being the one holding it together all the time, but he’s still genuinely surprised when he sees they’re crying

He knows what to do when he realizes what’s going on, though; exactly what he wishes he could request from someone else

He brings them into a hug and mumbles reassurances; that they don’t have to be the tough one all the time, that their emotions aren’t weakness, and that everything’s going to be okay

X6-88:

A fan of mutual silence, X6 helps them get comfortable and brings them into their room; he’s always viewed quarters as the safest place to be, both in the Institute and when Sole gave him his own quarters afterwards

He helps them into bed, making sure they’re comfortable, before asking if they have any small injuries they need addressed before settling in

If they say yes he cleans and dresses their wounds as gently as possible before settling into bed near them, a respectable distance away, but within reach if they need, and begins reading a book Sole left on their nightstand

He knows it’s hard to be alone when you’re being attacked by emotions, but they don’t seem to want to talk about what’s going through their head quite yet; instead, he rubs their back and encourages them to cry it out

[chidoroki]

TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I’m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

[alpacaparkaseok]

Inside “The Pact”

Hello! For those of you that followed along with The Pact, I received a few questions and requests to get an inside look. I’ll link the post here that explains a bit more about what this is gonna be about. 

We’re gonna break this down into sections: first will be answering your questions about The Pact & the characters. Then I’ll show you guys a little about my notes & decision making process (which is very obscure because I just tend to keep a hypothetical tab open in my brain most of the time lol) as well as some pictures of my ideas!! 

Thanks for requesting such a fun thing to do now that this series is over. It’s been fun to look back!

Q. What song did the boys dedicate to y/n?

A. “Her” || This is a sad song, but I felt like it fit so well with how the boys had to hide a part of themselves (their feelings) away for the sake of the pact!

--

Q. Did the boys get mad/how did the boys react to Jungkook’s kiss?

A. Jungkook was a little shocked, and felt extremely guilty on the drive back home. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to tell his hyungs, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to them. Naturally, the second he walked in the house and everyone saw his face, they knew. It was just quiet, everybody was a little hesitant to say anything/bring it up because they were all upset. Only Jimin has heard all of the details of JK’s kiss, whereas the others are simply aware that he kissed her and that’s that.

Namjoon was the most upset, although he didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the couch and did the jaw-clenching thing he always does. Yoongi just tried to change the subject and ask about other aspects of the date. Taehyung was actually pretty pissed, especially because he’d been so good about refraining from kissing you even when you’d asked for it. Hobi had a chat with him later that night and calmed him down. Jin wasn’t angry so much as he was worried that he missed his shot & couldn’t stop replaying his date in his head.

--

Q. Who fell for y/n last?

A. Namjoon. He’d had a little crush, and that’s why he was willing to go along with the pact. But it hit a point less than a year ago when he fell hard and fast. (you called him in the middle of the night when he was on tour and he realized that your sleepy voice is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard) The boys noticed and as a result teased him endlessly about it, because he doesn’t quite know how to navigate his feelings. 

--

Q. Who did the boys bet on? (We already know that Jimin bet on Yoongi and won lol)

A. Namjoon bet on JK, Tae bet on Hobi, Hobi bet on JK, Jin bet on JK, and Yoongi bet on Jin, and JK bet on Namjoon (because we all know JK would pick Namjoon lol)

--

Q. Didn’t y/n ever date other guys? How did the boys react?

A. hahaha ok I actually would have such a fun time writing this Yes, she dated around a bit. For the first year of the pact, she had an on again, off again bf. It wasn’t very serious, and she always made that clear to the boys. They still hated the dude. After they broke up, she only went on a few dates here and there. Didn’t really seriously date. (except for that one time she went on vacation and had a fling, but everyone has decided to forget that) They just smiled and supported her, although Tae was always very clear that he didn’t like any of the guys she dated. 

--

Q. In Namjoon’s date, who was the 1950′s author mentioned?

A. Agatha Christie, the queen. 

--

Q. How did y/n meet Jimin? (he was the one that introduced her to the rest of the group)

A. She was a PR intern for Lee Hyun. Jimin and Lee Hyun are close, and they crossed paths fairly often until Jimin decided to invite her to hang out. 

--

Q. What is y/n studying in school?

A. Public Relations (which will honestly come in handy with her new relationship lol)

--

Q. Where was Jin in the last chapter when y/n came to the studio?

A. Agh how could you ask me this and bring back all that pain?! Jin was at his brother’s restaurant for some much needed R&R. He ended up staying the night with him, not wanting to go home just yet and have to face his decision.

--

Q. Who would you personally choose to end up with and why?

A. KIM SEOKJIN. Date #5 was basically for me lol. Like, unapologetically wrote that for myself. Not just because he’s my bias, but because I personally felt like I could picture myself chilling on that couch watching Dateline with him. And it was beautiful. 🤧 Also, while Jin can be loud and goofy, he’s an introvert. I’m an extravert with introverted tendencies, so I just feel like his date would have been the most comfortable for me.

--

CREATING THE PACT - AN INSIDE LOOK AT MY NOTES

First thing’s first, I have an on-going page in my notes on my phone which is FILLED with ideas & half-formed thoughts. Before I began writing The Pact (or even Spooked, for that matter), this happened:

So you can see that I had no idea what I was doing lol, but I thought that it would be cool. Mainly I wanted an excuse to write OT7 and display all the members in a sweet light. Also, we see that not all of these actually made it into the series. (Tae w/ the family)

BUT THEN, “SPOOKED” HAPPENED, AND A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY POPPED UP 

ngl, I cracked up when I looked back at my notes and saw this. 

“Sweet Gloria what am I doing to myself” 😂😂 this was when I was pushing “Lost & Found” out and planning for Taehyung’s series (which is why so much is blocked out on my notes, because it’s riddled with spoilers lol) so I literally had no idea why I was jumping into another project as I was already super busy. That’s why I scheduled it for just Saturday’s! (and also why I sometimes posted super late at night lol)

As you can see, Seokjinnie’s date was literally always on my mind. From the very beginning. Which is odd, considering the fact that he didn’t end up being endgame. wow it’s like he’s my bias or something

Occasionally I’d take breaks from hw and work on getting to know how the boys were with y/n. Quotes and poetry serve as a great source of inspiration, and I assigned a quote to each member. (notice the little stars by Jin, Yoongi’s and JK’s names lol, they were my top three as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now)

There were a couple of things that I didn’t think of adding until I was reading through your theories and got an idea of what you needed to push the series in the right decision. i.e. bringing Gina back to explain that she closed the door in Spooked. 

I have a whiteboard in my room that I use to map out what I need to do that week for whatever series I’m working on (as well as jot down ideas for new series, which I why this photo doesn’t show the whole board haha) 

So here’s a peek at my thought process for writing about how the pact was formed. Sorry if you can’t read it haha

NOW, the last few questions you guys had:

Q. Did you ever change your mind while writing the pact?

A. Yes! I actually originally intended for Hobi to have written the note. It fit very well with how angry he was at first and how worried he was during the date. But by the time I'd gotten to Jin’s date I kinda knew that he wouldn’t be that petty but Jin would haha

I also planned on Yoongi kissing y/n on their date. It was supposed to be on a rooftop somewhere, which we know didn’t happen. In fact, I didn’t really intend for their date to be so disastrous until I was coming closer to having to write it. I think I was a mess, so the date was a mess lol

I had no idea what I was doing for Tae’s date until I wrote it, all I knew was that there had to be a museum. The rest I just made up as I wrote and hoped that it made sense. (also, for some reason I hated the museum portion of the date. Idk why, but it just felt so stark to me. still don’t like it lol)

Q. When did you know how it was going to end? 

A. That’s a....difficult question lol. Honestly, I thought of just doing an audio recording and uploading it because it I didn’t really know how to put it into words, but then I realized that most people probably wouldn’t wanna listen to that lol. So here we are. 

I had the ending scene in mind before The Pact even became a thing. I knew I had a series that I wanted to end with baking cookies. (weird, I know.) It didn’t exactly go how I planned, but I remember having the thought while writing Spooked (when I thought I was just writing a one shot) that it would be nice for y/n to be with Yoongi. I just instantly felt like they had a connection, when he was the first one she went toward. From then on out, I always kinda kept Yoongi in the background. 

I had a crisis about halfway through (right before Jin’s date) when there were a bunch of people rooting for Tae, because he hadn’t even been on my radar. But then Jin’s date went much better than I thought it was going to/received better, so I think that got me back on track. 

But from the beginning, Yoongi was #1. (I wrote this in the back of my Career’s notebook lol) when I was trying to figure out for myself who wrote the pact. 

So yeah! There you have it! Just an FYI, I had to physically restrain myself from throwing caution to the wind and making Jin endgame. Especially when so many of you were on board. :( However, the survey helped because Yoongi was the majority of votes (closely followed by Jin & JK) and that showed me that we were still on the right track! 

Ngl, my brain stopped working around Wednesday of last week, so writing the finale took FOREVER because nothing would compute. But I’m so happy you guys enjoyed it and reached out to me about it! This really is like a part-time job most days, and I really felt like this series paid off. 

Hopefully I covered everything! To end, here's the most satisfying part of every project for me:

Thanks guys!

[troubatrain]

sober - m. barzal (pt. six)

a/n: so after the hell week we all survived in the good ol’ USA my brain finally decided to let me actually write. tbh i wrote this about four times before i forced myself to just finish it and stop tweaking it.

Five

Mat’s kitchen looked like a tornado had run through it. The usually pristine, absolutely untouched kitchen of the young bachelor was getting more use in the twenty minutes Mat had been awake than it ever had. Truthfully, Mat wasn’t a morning person. Mat slept like a rock, and he thought there was nothing besides the fear of his coach that could get him up earlier than noon, but he was wrong. You had him up before eight, hoping if he could beat you to waking up you wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out on him. He did, opening his eyes to catch you snoring softly beside him. He laid there for a moment, his eyes on you because he almost in disbelief you actually stayed. It was a moment of peace, the complete opposite of the mess you’d both gotten yourselves into. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t debating how he was going to get someone to leave, he was figuring out how he was going to get you to stay.

Mat was an absolute whore, and he didn’t care one bit. Why should he? He was young, he was at the top of his game, and his ego got a little bigger everyday. He was just as guilty as you were when it came to his lack of commitment. Mat had never been able to be a good boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried - so he just stopped trying. His schedule wasn’t made for dating, and he never wanted to put the work in. You were different. Something clicked in Mat when he realized how enraged his body felt hearing DeAngelo talk about you the way he did. He was going to let it go, and in hindsight maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to. That protective feeling took over his body because it was too strong for him to shove back down before it got out.

Mat would have told you he loved you after that game, because he does, but he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The reality of what would happen if this was real scared him, but not nearly as much as he knew it had to scare you. You had something to lose, a life that Mat just wouldn’t be apart of. Mat wasn’t in a position to ask you to give that up, especially for someone who you weren’t even dating. Mat knew if he moved too quickly you’d get spooked and run away without giving Mat a second thought. He’d disappear from your memory like everyone before him.

Mat’s thoughts were broken by the sound of your feet padding into his kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist while you pressed a kiss to his back, “Hi pretty girl.”

This was uncharted territory, the morning after. You’d always been an expert, leaving yourself enough time to sneak out and leave before anyone would notice you were gone. That kept your heart safe, free from the feelings that were present in this very moment. You couldn’t have left last night, slipping out of Mat’s bed and into a cab in the middle of the night, but something stopped you, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“I thought I’d try to make you breakfast,” Mat admits, a smile on his face while he turned off the stove, eggs forgotten to look at you, “I’ll get better at it, I promise, breakfast can be my thing.”

“Your thing?” You muse, letting Mat gently push you onto the island, standing between your legs.

“Yeah, when we fall in love or whatever, I’ll make breakfast,” Mat chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’ve lost your damn mind Barz,” You sigh, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder while you savored the last few moments of peace you were feeling. You were going to have leave his place, off to a four game road trip where Mat was free to fuck whoever he wanted.

Mat’s finger was gently gliding over your face, “If I’m crazy it’s because you made me crazy.”

“You were insane before I met you,” You defend not daring to open your eyes and meet Mat’s gaze, “And now you’re just annoying.”

“I don’t remember being annoying when you were begging me to fuck you last night,” Mat counters back, hands moving to your bare thighs, the warmth from his hands was a stark contrast from the cool counter, “If I’m correct it sounded something like Mat please.”

“Don’t push your luck Mat,” You threaten, his impersonation of you from the night before stopping almost immediately.

“Would I push it if I asked you to stay until my flight later?” Mat asks, eyes full of hope while he tries to hang onto the moment just a little bit longer.

“If you never talk about it again,” You nod, deciding that the damage was already done. You were so far gone a few more hours couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“We can talk about how fucking good you look in orange and blue though,” Mat teases, a grin on his face. You furrow your eyebrows, looking down and realizing just what shirt he had given you the night before. A bright white number thirteen in the corner, with an Islanders logo present on the front.

“Mat if you don’t take this off of me right this second.”

“You never have to ask me twice to take off your shirt babe.”

***

You leaned your head against the window of the private jet that definitely cost more for one flight than your entire salary, taking a deep breath and a break from the laundry list of emails you were due to answer. You were flying to St. Louis for the All Star Game, your plans of a week long vacation somewhere warm with some of the team and their significant others thrown out the door the second Chris stepped in for Panarin last minute. Not even two minutes later, Charlotte strutted over to your desk to tell you that without a need for someone to translate for Artemi, you were the new kid and that meant you had to suffer through the weekend while everyone else took their vacations. 

“At least pretend to be excited,” Chris mutters next to you, taking a break from his own reading and elbowing you in the side.

“It’s hard to be excited when everyone’s on a beach and we’re flying to Missouri in January,” You snark back, pulling your glasses off your face and rubbing your eyes.

“You either need to start sleeping or stop hanging out with that secret boyfriend of yours,” Chris jokes, but it struck a nerve with you.

Mat wasn’t your boyfriend. Mat. Wasn’t. Your. Boyfriend. He didn’t get to have all of you, because he didn’t deserve it - no man does. Nothing about the very small amount of vulnerability that he got to see after that game meant anything. You left that morning and he went on a four game road trip and the world spun on. You could stop whenever you wanted to, move on with some other dumb boy who didn’t care more about you in clothes than without. But did you want to? That was a debate you’d been having with yourself for days.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You grumble, gritting through your teeth. Technically, it wasn’t a total lie.

“So you are seeing someone!” Chris points out, as if your deliberate words were going to make it past him. Chris held most of the intelligence on the entire Rangers roster, and there was nothing that he didn’t pick up, “So, What's the deal? He doesn’t want anyone to know about you or you don’t want anyone to know about him.”

“It’s mutual,” You hum, sipping the coffee that had gone cold.

“Are you a sugar baby?” Chris questions, a cautious tone to his voice, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it or anything-”

“No I haven’t found a sugar daddy,” You roll your eyes, waiving Chris and sparing him the lecture that there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, “We’re just in a limbo.”

“For what it’s worth,” Chris says, taking a deep breath before he finished his thought, “You seem happy, you haven’t snapped on Tony in almost a week.”

“Thanks Chris,” You laugh softly, popping a headphone back into your ear so you could finish up some work.

***

Mat was in absolute disbelief the moment he saw you step into the hotel lobby. You weren’t supposed to be in St. Louis, you were supposed to be on some island in a bikini making him wish he wasn’t good enough to be selected for the All Star game at all. Mat scratched his head for an answer as to why you didn’t mention the change of plans, but then the thing that he spent his entire roadie before he left for St. Louis entered his brain at full speed.

You’re not her boyfriend.

Mat owed you nothing, and you didn’t have to tell him anything you didn’t want to. Mat honestly knew about four things about you and all of them related to your job. He was dying to know everything, even the stuff that didn’t matter that much. Hell, Mat would’ve killed to see the inside of your apartment at this point. He just needed one thing, one thing that he could hold onto that you showed him that no one else got to see. He was sure he’d find it, especially after he finally got you to stay at his place, but now he was starting to think maybe he’d never crack you.

You were going to just avoid Mat like the plague. The hotel was swamped with players, their families, and any staff that had tagged along for the weekend. The city was still buzzing from last season’s Stanley Cup win and there was not a chance Mat wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, because Mat Barzal was an amazing hockey player. You hated to be reminded of it, because if you could have Mat feed you stupid compliments and never remind you of his job you’d be happy forever.

hotel sex is on the table

and you look fucking hot today

You roll your eyes, checking your phone while you were standing in line to check in. You look around the room, trying not to draw any attention to Mat who was giving you a shit eating grin from across the lobby. He looked good, a white button up tucked into suit pants that were doing his ass justice. You look at Chris, who was too engrossed in his own phone to even look back at you.

pretend like i don’t exist right now and we’ll talk

wanna play a game?

that didn’t go well for you last time Barzy

if i beat your buddy kreids tomorrow night you give me one night

you won’t

is that a yes?

fine

You turn around, giving Mat one last death stare to remind him you weren’t kidding on your plea to pretend you didn’t exist. Your job was important to you because you weren’t Mat. You weren’t going to get paid millions of dollars to play and then retire with a pretty penny in your pocket. You worked, and the stress of losing your job would definitely break you. Charlotte instilled fear in you like no other boss you ever had could, and if you got caught messing around with someone who played for another team while you were working she’d probably just fire you on the spot. Not to mention the heartbroken faces of your chosen family. Mat somehow existed in both a different and the same world as you. He understood your work life because it was so close to his, but he had his own work family and you had yours. No matter what, there would always be some sort of weird divide caused by that stupid rivalry. For now, it was just going to have to be something you’d worry about later.

***

You turned in the mirror of your hotel room, the lacy black lingerie set fit your body like a glove, and you were impressed with Mat’s taste given all he ever wore was sweatpants. You look in the corner of the room, the last piece of his little gift sitting in the box. Mat dropped it off earlier, a note on top telling you that when he inevitably smokes Chris in the faster skater competition he had something in mind. You weren’t surprised by his confidence, but you were surprised by the gift itself. Folded neatly in the box wasn’t just the lingerie, a bright blue and orange jersey was right underneath it, a shiny white number thirteen stitched into the back. You knew you didn’t have to wear it, because Mat wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but you were wet at just the thought of how animalistic Mat would probably get. You tossed on the jersey, throwing an even bigger sweatshirt and sweats over it before you snuck up to Mat’s floor- hoping Chris wouldn’t catch you leaving from the room across the hall.

You pull out the room key Mat gave you, sneaking into the door and locking it shut behind you. You slipped off your sweats, leaving you in nothing but the jersey and your panties.

“Fuck,” Mat dropped his phone from his hand the second you came into his view, “I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You muse, your confidence boosting while you strutted over to Mat. He had that effect on you, the ability to always make you feel like the sexiest woman in the world - even if you didn’t feel like were, “But then you beat McDavid.”

Mat pulled you between his legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands toying with the jersey while he let the fabric slip through his fingers, “You look so fucking good in my jersey baby.”

“I’m proud of you Mat,” You purr into his ear, playing into Mat’s ego just a little bit. You were proud of him, and for the first time you wanted him to know. You pressed a kiss against his jaw, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat, “Can I show you?”

“Keep that jersey on and you can do whatever you want to me,” Mat admits, slipping his hand under the jersey and tapping your ass lightly.

“I’ll keep it on,” You giggle, pushing Mat on his back and getting to work. Your lips kissed down his chest with every button of his dress shirt you got undone, tossing it in the corner to be forgotten about until later. You unhooked his belt, leaving open mouth kisses just above his pants. You slid off his dress pants slowly, taking his boxers with them to let his cock spring free. Mat groaned at the sight, gathering your hair to pull it back for you.

“Wait,” Mat stops you, holding your hair back to stop you from putting your mouth on him. His finger traced your cheek, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “I just want to remember this, you look so beautiful right now.”

You could feel the heat rush your cheeks, Mat had called you to dozens of things but never once did the word beautiful ever slip through his lips, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to blow you.”

“No, baby, I mean it- fuck,” Mat groans, this thoughts halted by your mouth on his cock. His hips snapped up, hitting the back of your throat, “You’re so fucking good princess.”

You moan, hollowing your cheeks and gripping Mat’s thighs a little tighter, giving him the show you so desperately wanted. You head bobbed in a perfect rhythm, taking as much of Mat as your body could handle. Mat pushes your head back, taking a look at the line of spit that was still connected to his dick, your eyes were glassy and your throat was sore but Mat would keep you like that forever if he could, “Let me finish.”

“I’m in charge tonight,” Mat reminds you, the tone in his voice sent a chill up your spine. You knew Mat was rough, and a little demanding but he never crossed that line with you, “On your knees.”

“Like this?” You tease, sitting up on your knees to rile him up just a little bit more.

“More like this princess,” Mat stands behind you, gently pushing you down so your ass was in the air. He was quiet, bunching up his jersey so he could get a full view of the lingerie he went out and bought just for you, “Be good or I won’t let you cum pretty girl.”

Mat’s threat with a light smack to your ass, a moan escaping your lips. He slipped the black lace panties to the side, gliding one of his fingers against your folds while he pressed a kiss to your skin, “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you Mat,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes widening at your own confession.

Mat was thankful he was behind you, because if you saw the way his gaze changed from your words he’d never live it down. You looked so perfect, spread just for him. His jersey. His number. And in his own fantasy: his girl. He snapped himself back into reality, sliding into your pussy that was practically dripping in anticipation.

“Faster, fuck Mat please,” You whimpered out, trying to move yourself to get Mat to pick up the pace. He chuckled darkly, hips snapping back and forth until the only sound in the room was the string of curses leaving your mouth, “I’m close-”

Mat flipped you over before you could finish, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, “Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Fuck I’m yours Mat,” You breath out, locking your eyes with his while it felt like time froze around you, “I’m yours.”

“Look at me when you cum baby,” Mat urges, his hand still gripping your chin. He picked up his place, making use of his other hand around your clit, “C’mon princess just for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around him, Mat letting out a groan while he tried to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer. He looked down at you, catching your breath from your own high. You hand snuck down to his cock, pumping it slowly, “Cum on me.”

Mat nods, letting you work on his dick with your hands while he nibbled at your neck. He was going to mark you up, make you remember who you belonged to because he so desperately wanted it to be him. He spilled onto your pussy, head pressed into your neck while he came down from his own high. You both laid there for a moment, your hand gently stroking Mat’s back while you both took a moment to think about what just happened. Mat was possessive in a way he’d never been before, and you ate it up without a second thought - that had to mean something right?

“I need to get back to my room,” you whisper, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

“I know,” Mat nods, finally picking his head up, “Keep the jersey, you might need it one day.”

“Your stupidity is honestly astounding,” You joke, brushing his hair out of his face while Mat’s face turned into a pout.

“Can I take you on a date?” Mat breathes out, hoping he wasn’t reading this the wrong way, “No games, no funny business, let me take you out.”

Say no. Say no and never call him again.

“One date,” You agree against your better judgement, pushing Mat away and looking around the room to find your sweats that you snuck into his room in, “Better make it a good one.”

Mat smiles, teeth on full display while he watched you slide your pants back on, “I’m the best at everything Y/N don’t forget that.”

“Goodnight Barz,” You tease, giving him one more look before you left his room.

The elevator ride down was quiet, most of the hotel’s occupants already asleep or still out partying the weekend away. For your sake, you hoped Chris would be fast asleep like the grandpa he was. You rushed down the hallway, Mat’s jersey still hanging loosely off your frame while you looked in your hand for your room key. Your search was stopped by a throat clearing behind you. You jump, turning around to see Chris’s eyes boring into you.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

[lovelivingmydreams]

The guy from the foodcourt

So @reddstardust made a few really cool doodles. And one made me want to write this. So show them some love as well! Enjoy!

This is part of this bigger story, first chapter here

Nico groaned in frustration and banged his head on the desk.

There were piles of discarded notes around him. Why was this so hard?

“Okay so change of medium didn’t help,” Félix relented. Nico could hear his creativity was getting frustrated as well, though he was trying to stay positive for his sake.

“All it did was desecrate some poor tree’s memory,” Alejo pointed out in dismay.

“I’ll recycle the paper,” Nico sighed. What to do?

“It’s cramped in here. And too dark,” Alejo complained trying in vain to get comfortable on the windowsill since there was literally nowhere else for him to sit.

He had a point. The window didn’t exactly let in a lot of light and the lightbulb wasn’t helping that much.

“That’s it! A change of scenery! Brilliant idea!” Félix grinned at his opposite/partner in crime.

“Hm… I don’t know about brilliant, but it’s okay,” the darker facet agreed.

Nico nodded. Maybe he could go to the mall…

“Who knows! The people passing by might yield inspiration!” Félix pointed out eagerly.

“But we gotta focus. No side trips, no distractions. We get there, we get inspired, we write the song and we’re out. No shopping. This song has to be done by the end of the week or Diego is going to get mad at me for not keeping you two in check!”

Alejo always turned just a bit darker and scarier when he drew a line in the sand.

Félix put a hand on his heart and raised his other, palm facing Alejo.

“I swear on my spectacular spectacles, my tense friend. No unneeded distractions.”

“By Aphrodite’s hairbrush!” Félix exclaimed, his star shaped frames shifting to hearts.

“Nooo!”

“Just look!”

Nico had just sat down and looked up under ‘mild’ encouragement from his creativity, who also covered his hormones. Well his desire for romance and other… Well desires in general. Success, love, happiness. All that stuff.

Right now his attention, and therefore Nico’s, was drawn by a handsome stranger ordering food at one of the shops in the food court.

“Just look at him! He’s so cute!” Félix gushed. And Nico couldn’t disagree. He was very handsome.

He also looked rather tired.

“We don’t have time for this. Besides he doesn’t look in the mood to be bothered anyway,” Alejo argued, though Nico could hear a bit of doubt. The guy was really cute.

“Maybe bothering him will get him in a better mood? Let’s take a chance, what do you say?”

“We don’t even know if he’s gay!”

Félix clapped in delight right as Alejo groaned at his accidental rhyme.

“No distractions, you promised!” his inner edgelord insisted as the man sat himself down at a table and Nico went back to his blank screen.

“But love!” Félix whined. “Can’t that be the only exception?”

“Not when we have people waiting for a new song! Maybe if we get at least an idea down, then we can think of talking to the guy. If we can find a non-creepy reason to do so.”

Félix groaned but relented his frames going back to star shaped.

“Very well! Brainstorming time!”

Nico wrote down at least a hundred beginnings of ideas already, but most seemed to be at least somewhat related to the cute guy sitting a few tables away.

“Come on royal pain! You are killing me here!”

“Maybe if I could just chance a glance at him? He might be our muse!” Félix pleaded.

“That makes no sense.”

Before the argument could escalate Nico’s food arrived.

He was honestly relieved. He could put the laptop away for a bit and just let his thoughts go free for a moment. Hopefully not drifting towards…

From the corner of his eye he could see the guy get up. Welp that didn’t take long.

“He’s coming over!” Felix declared triumphantly.

“You don’t know that! Don’t get Nico’s hopes up!”

Nico tried to focus on his food, but it was impossible not to sneak a peek as the guy passed by. Oh, he did not mind that view either. “Look away before he sees!” Alejo hissed.

“He looks so fine!”

“He could still be a jerk. Or already dating someone. Or straight!”

“Oh come on Misery Business. There is nothing straight about that guy. My gaydar is on point and he is 99% gay. And if he had a boyfriend, he would be here with him. Or he’d at least be in a better mood,” Félix argued.

“One, you do not have me convinced gaydar is a real thing. Two, there are a ton of situations where he could have a boyfriend while also being here alone and in a bad mood. Having a relationship does not join you at the other person’s hip and it does not get rid of all the bad things in life.”

Alejo had a point there…

“And again, we should try to work on the song!” Another good point.

“Please, my dearest Paramour. One more look.”

Alejo sighed. “Fine! Just one.”

And so Nico looked up and…

“Oh god! Eye contact he caught you!”

“He’s looking back! Maybe he wants you to be looking at him!?”

“Is he looking at us? Maybe there is something behind us?”

Nico looked back, he couldn’t see anything much of note. But when he looked back at the stranger he was no longer looking at him. It was like he never even really noticed him sitting there.

“By the frozen head of Disney!” Félix exclaimed. He was clearly upset. He only made morbid Disney references when he got really down.

Alejo sighed a little relieved, but put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s fine. Let’s finish our meal and maybe we can come up with a song idea? Then after we can try and talk to him?”

“Would you really?” Nico thought it was awesome that his creativity and his anxiety got along so well. They looked out for one another. And pulled pranks on him and his other facets. They were a terrifyingly efficient team.

“Of course. Now what do you say?”

Félix nodded. “Let’s focus.”

And Nico got into the zone. The whole mall seemed to disappear around him except for the food in front of him. He knew he wanted to make something about mental health. He just didn’t know what aspect of it yet.

Then suddenly he heard a loud crashing sound nearby.

He looked up and could only just see a figure in an upturned trashcan.

Poor soul.

“Same,” Alejo smirked as he returned their attention to their work.

But that… Was actually not a bad idea.

“It’s a metaphor for life!” Félix gushed!

“Like how not dealing with an issue head on can cause it to pile up and before you know it bam! Disaster.”

“Are you trying to say something about…”

“Order 96!? Anyone?” Nico’s head snapped to the food stand and then over to the table where the mystery guy had sat earlier.

“Noooo!” Nico shared the musician’s sentiment. The handsome stranger was gone.

“He left without his food?” Alejo frowned. Nico got up and approached the table, indeed, the number 96 was sitting there abandoned and forgotten. He’d missed his chance. Now he’d never know.

“Would bringing him his food be an acceptable excuse to talk to him?” Félix asked desperately.

“Um… Yeah, sure. That’s probably the only reason we can justify chasing him down,” Alejo nodded nervously.

So Nico claimed the food and started walking around hoping to spot.

“Adonis at 8 o’clock!”

Nico’s head snapped in the direction Félix had pointed out and there he was, looking like the day had somehow gotten worse since Nico first noticed him.

Should he…?

Félix looked pleadingly at Alejo who sighed. “Well? Are you waiting for a written invitation or what?”

At that Nico immediately ran up to the guy. “Uh, Hey!” he called out still not sure what he was going to say.

When he came to a stop in front of him he realized that first and foremost he needed to catch his breath. It took him a second, but when he did he righted himself and gave the guy his best smile.

“There you are,” he sighed in relief. “I was afraid you’d left.” And that would’ve blown.

“You almost forgot your food…”

“He’s even cuter up close,” Félix sighed dreamily.

“He’s staring at us like we have two heads. This was a bad idea,” Alejo cringed.

He was staring at him kind of funny. Come on something to talk about… He really whished the guy was wearing a bracelet or anything of note to start a conversation about other than a bag of boiled carrots. And his sad look from earlier.

“Brilliant! Ask about that! Show how caring you are.”

“Well… We don’t have anything better so…”

“You looked really upset so I figured it might be some kind of comfort food or something. You mind kind of telling me about that?”

Please?

Nothing happened. Still staring strangely spooked at him. “Abort mission. I’m sorry Félix but this is not going to end well if we keep pushing!” Alejo rushed.

“Oh, very well. Goodbye handsome stranger,” Félix allowed reluctantly.

“It’s okay!” Nico rushed shoving the bag of food towards the stranger before he could do something to embarrass himself more. “Uh, it’s probably a bit too nosy for me to ask anyway.”

“Uh… Yeah!” The stranger replied, god why did even his voice have to sound so pleasant? And that while he was clearly 100% uncomfortable talking to him.

“Super nosy!! What’s wrong with you…man?” Nico would take offence, but he could see that the stranger was desperate to get out of the situation as fast as possible.

“We made him feel worse,” Alejo sighed guiltily.

“We didn’t mean to!” Félix argued.

“Does the intention matter? Look at him?”

“Ahhh, yeah… sorry about that. Have a good night.”

And so Nico turned around and walked away a little disappointed.

Neither Alejo nor Félix had much to say now, just allowing Nico to feel for a minute. And then he heard shoes squeaking and a voice behind him. “Uh…”

He looked around. The stranger. “Did he change his mind?!” Félix squealed.

“Maybe he just realized he was kind of rude and wanted to say sorry?” Alejo reasoned.

“Hey,” he greeted the stranger expectantly. He still looked really tense.

But now he was at least smiling. And it was a real cute smile.

“Hey…” he waved before showing him the bag of carrots. “Do you want this food? I… don’t.”

“What?” Félix and Alejo chorused confused and Nico couldn’t help but laugh.

“Then why did you buy it?” he asked.

The stranger looked away nervously and rubbed at the back of his head as he stammered trough his reply. Sending Félix into a squealing frenzy. The words cute and precious and all kinds of variations could be heard.

“Oh y-…pah-uh…Well it’s probably… you know, maybe because I was trying to see your backpack…”

Nico blinked confused as Alejo was trying to figure out what was so special about it. “Just ask him!” he eventually hissed as the uncertainty got to him.

“Wh-uh, my backpack?”

The stranger was still avoiding his eyes most of the time, a slight blush showing up on his cheeks.

“Yeah… I-I wanted to see if you had any… pride pins…”

Nico could only half follow the strangers explanation about not wanting to bother him because Félix was screaming and Alejo was screaming.

“Gay! He’s so definitely gay!”

“He wanted to know… He is interested!?”

“Oh gods, oh gods, this is amazing! He is so wonderful and earnest and just look at him he’s so worried he’s being weird! Just aaaah!”

“Which would’ve been amazing because I think you are really… cute.”

And then everything went quiet. Cute… He thinks I am cute…

“Don’t just stand there say something!”

“Oh… my… gosh…”

“Not that!”

“You should’ve just said ‘hi’!”

And the shy hopeful smile he got was just the most beautiful thing in existence.

“Oh-oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I had writers block anyway.”

Alejo gave Félix a playful shove at that.

“Oh! Uh… w-what were you trying to write? Uh, Misterrrr…?”

“Shut up, stop being adorable, my heart cannot take it!” Félix gushed.

Nico laughed. “Mr. Flores. Very formal of you! Uh… You can call me Nico if you’d like.”

The man laughed back, still a little tense but much more at ease than earlier.

“Mr. Sanders! But you can call me Thomas.”

“Thomas,” Félix repeated with a sigh, clearly halfway a plan to write an entire song just around the name alone somehow.

“To answer your question. I was attempting to write a song,” he explained as he led them both to the nearest table. He was planning on staying for quite a bit longer.

“Oh! I like… songs.” Nico smiled a little to himself, he wasn’t looking at him but he could already discern the little mental ‘are you kidding me?’ Thomas was thinking to himself at that answer. Nico, or more specifically Félix, had a suspicion of what he meant.

“He’s an artist too!!!” the master writer exclaimed.

“We don’t know that,” Alejo insisted.

“What’s yours about?”

Ah if only he knew the answer to that. “Uh… I don’t know yet. I- I think I like the idea of someone’s life…” No not quite. “or an aspect of their life feeling like… a trash bin.” Thomas’ face at that wasn’t encouraging, but he wasn’t finished explaining yet so the idea wasn’t a complete loss yet.

“And- and the waste keeps piling… and piling up… until it inevitably… spills out… into the rest of their life.” He smiled at Thomas expectantly, hoping he’d like the idea at least a little.

His face became deadpan though and just as Nico started to worry…

“You saw me knock over that trash can didn’t you?”

Oh, my… “That was you!?”

“We could’ve been his hero?” Félix whined.

“He would not have liked us seeing him like that. Imagine if it were the other way around?”

Félix shivered and nodded in understanding.

As it was the realization that Nico didn’t have a clue until now, and he’d had outed himself as ‘the trash man’ was clearly embarrassing enough on it’s own.

“OH- gosh… yes. Dang it!” he confessed as he hid his face behind his hands.

“Are you okay?” Nico asked earnestly though he couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice or face.

Thomas was laughing as well. “Nothing but a bruised ego,” he assured him.

Félix huffed. Nico knew that to him a bruised ego was a serious condition that should not be glossed over. But Nico kind of liked that Thomas was able to laugh at the situation already.

“Sorry if my song explanation… uh, hit a little too close to home.”

Thomas’ earnest smile melted his heart.

“No, it’s fine. It’s true! I do tend to… waste a lot of opportunities in my life.”

“Was that a pun?” Nico’s facets asked shocked.

“Well,” he smiled as he took the bag of carrots. “Let’s not waste this one,” he suggested.

Next chapter

Nico’s head and heart were buzzing with excitement the whole rest of the day when he came home he threw himself on the couch. 

“AAAAAAAH!” Félix and Alejo screamed in jubilation.

“An actor and a singer?” Félix gushed.

“And he has good taste in music and in movies,” Alejo pointed out.

“He did a tour with his own musical! Is he even real?”

“How was he so modest about it?”

“Would it be okay to look him up?” the boisterous facet wondered, phone already in hand.

“Well, he said it was fine if we did… but maybe not right away?” the usually restrained man was vibrating with a mix of happy and scared nerves.

“I need a minute…” Nico sighed dreamily.

“Oh. Of course. We’ll be right here when you need us,” Félix assured him as he and Alejo retreated to the mind to tell the others all the details they might’ve missed.

[vs-redemption]

May I please have BNHA scenarios of how any characters you think would fit would dealing with a haunting with their paranormal loving partner? Thank you

A/N: I had so much fun writing these! I decided to do three characters: Twice, Mirko, and Todoroki. They’re all under the cut since it’s three different stories. I hope you enjoy!

Dealing with a Haunting (Twice, Mirko, and Todoroki x Paranormal Loving!Reader)

Warning: Mentions of scary Halloween themes like death and murder related to the huantings.

Twice (Jin Bubaigawara)

“Hey Jin!” You skip up to your boyfriend with an innocent smile on your face. It was always the best way to get his guard down if you had to ask him for something. Not that it was hard to get him to go along with your ideas anyway. He could never resist doing things for the people he cared about. “I finally decided what I want for my birthday.”

“Really? What is it?” He perks up at your words, eager to find out what it was that would make you happy. “Took you long enough!”

You smile, knowing there was no reason to be offended by the second comment. He pulls you into a hug as you reach up to put a hand on each side of his face. Your touch reminds him that he has no reason to fear splitting apart. “I want to spend the night in a haunted hotel,” you tell him, causing him to go bug eyed for a moment.

“Uh uh! No Way!” he shakes his head before leaning in close, “anything for you, baby!” You smile victoriously. He would need no further convincing. He knew you loved anything paranormal, and there was no way he was going to let you go somewhere potentially dangerous by yourself.

--

An alarm on your phone alerts you once it is 3am on the night of your birthday. You hop off the hotel bed which was still perfectly made since you had no intention of sleeping. Your boyfriend, however, had drifted off in the room’s armchair in the middle of the movie you’d put on a few hours before.

“Jin, wake up!” You shake his shoulder and he wakes up with a startle. “It’s dead time! Let’s go!” You don’t wait for him to reply as you open up your suitcase to grab your flashlight and camera. You remember to hand Jin a mask to wear over his head so that he’d feel a little more confident.

“Are you sure about this?” He whispers as you both tiptoe out into the darkened hallway.

“Of course!” You assure him. “I’ve been wanting to come here for years! Thank you so much for doing this with me.” You lean toward him to give him a peck on the cheek before making your way down to the first floor of the hotel. Your footsteps echo around the stairwell and you feel Jin slip his hand into yours.

“Are you scared already?” you ask him in amusement.

“Oh course not!” He defends himself before puffing out his chest, “I’m your brave protector!” You laugh at his false bravado as you lead him toward the empty swimming pool.

“They say a pair of twins died in this pool,” you tell your boyfriend as you flick on your flashlight and let it illuminate the calm water in front of you. “Every year, on the same day as their death, people claim to hear the sound of children laughing and running around this area.” You turn around and give him your best creepy smile, “tonight is the 10 year anniversary.”

“Stop it,” Jin was definitely getting spooked now, “I don’t believe you.”

As soon as he muttered those words, you felt a small breeze brush past you both with the faint sound of a giggle floating through the air. You quickly reach for your camera, hoping to capture some evidence of what was happening, but Jin completely freaked out. He scoops you into his arms and runs as fast as he can from the pool area. Once you’re far enough away, he sets you down and takes your hand again. “Your story was real!” He gasps, “Let’s get out of here!” Jin takes you back to your room to get the rest of your stuff before checking out as fast as humanly possible.

 Mirko (Rumi Usagiyama)

You had been a fan of everything and anything paranormal since before you could remember. You had grown up watching all the different ghost hunting programs on TV and always found yourself watching live ghost cams in your free time. Over the years, you’d collected all sorts of gadgets like EMF readers, thermal cameras, and digital voice recorders. Recently, you had even started your own paranormal investigation website where you posted videos of your own ghost hunting adventures. It was the hobby you were most passionate about. When the Halloween season finally came around, you decided to a special vlog including your pro hero girlfriend, Mirko.

“Sorry, I know you’re into all the spooky stuff, but it’s not really my thing,” She flips her long silver hair over her shoulder before pointing a confident thumb to her chest. “I’ve literally made it my job not to be afraid of anything.” You let out a laugh at her predictable response.

“You don’t have to be scared,” you tell her. “I just thought it was something fun we could do to get into the Halloween spirit!” The rabbit hero puts a hand to her chin in thought before shrugging her shoulders.

“All right, I don’t see any harm in it,” she gives in quickly since, if nothing else, it was a chance to spend more time with you. She knew she’d made the right decision by the way your face had lit up with excitement. You both were thrill seekers, which is what had brought you two together in the first place.

What she hadn’t predicted at all, was that you would be dragging her to a graveyard on the night of Halloween. You’d set up some cameras around the area during the day, then went back with Mirko after the sun had set.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” Mirko had the EMF reader in her hand as she followed you through the rows of headstones. It was a little chilly outside and she looked really cute bundled up in her fluffy coat and gloves.

“Supposedly, ghosts are able to effect magnetic frequencies,” you explain excitedly while scanning the area with your thermal camera. “The device you’re holding will let us know if there are any disturbances in the electromagnetic energy around here.”

“Right,” her intense red eyes glanced around the graveyard as if daring something to come set off the device.

“You know you can’t take down a spirit with brute force, right Rumi?” You ask her in amusement while continuing your walk among the headstones. A slight mist had started to form over the ground and the temperature of the air seemed to drop suddenly. The tiny machine in Mirko’s hand began emitting a high pitched whine that made the hero tense up and go on alert.

“What’s happening?” she asks urgently. She didn’t sound scared, just ready to go toe to toe with anything dangerous that might appear.

“Shhh,” you put a finger to your lips before grabbing your voice recorder. You hit the record button and start asking questions like “Is anyone there?” and “If there’s a spirit present, give us a sign.” The EMF reader goes silent again and you glance over at Mirko. Her eyes are wide and her fluffy rabbit ears are straight up in the air.

“Something just moved past me and touched my hair,” she whispers as a smirk grows on her face. Abruptly, she snatches the recorder out of your hand. “All right ghost!” She challenges, “You wanna play? You don’t know who you’re messing with!”

“Rumi!” You can’t help but laugh even though the things you were suddenly experiencing were really quite extraordinary.

“Point the camera over there,” Mirko suddenly points across the graveyard. “By that tree.”

“Oh!” You gasp when the thermal camera picks up on a patch of cold in the exact spot Mirko had indicated. How had she known? “There’s something over there!” Mirko looked victorious before bouncing off in that direction, going too fast for you to keep up thanks to her large bunny feet.

“This is going to be great for your website!” she calls out behind her but the cold spot on the camera disappeared before reached the tree. You shake your head in amusement, wondering if bringing your girlfriend had been a good idea after all. She was going to scare all the ghosts away.

“It’s gone now,” you call over to her. The disappointment in your voice brought Mirko back to your side in a flash.

“Don’t worry!” She promises while putting an arm around you, “We’re going to track down every single ghost in this graveyard, even if we have to stay out here all night!” For someone who’d said ghosts weren’t her thing, Mirko was sure getting into it.

Shoto Todoroki

Getting a pro hero to take a vacation was borderline impossible. You’d been begging your boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki, to take some time off for years, but he was always reluctant to leave his job for more than a day or two at a time. You understood his need to be on standby in case of a major villain attack or big natural disaster. He hated the thought of not being there to save an innocent life or have the back of one of his fellow heroes. He still made sure to spend time with you every day, and you were content with taking small weekend trips with him when you could.

The routine had become familiar and comfortable, so it came as a huge shock to you when Todoroki showed up after work one day with two plane tickets in his hand. Not only were you going on an extended vacation with your boyfriend for the first time, but he’d also chosen New Orleans as the destination. You’d been dreaming of going there since you were a child. It was a city with a history full of vampires, witches, ghosts, and plenty of other supernatural entities. You were happy that your boyfriend had remembered, and surprised that he’d be willing to go along for the journey.

“I booked us a private tour at a haunted house tonight,” Shoto says causally as you unpack your bags at the first hotel. You look over at him in surprise. He was intently reading a brochure about the best ghost tours in the city.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Shoto?” You ask and he turns to look at you. “It might be really scary.”

“The ghosts don’t really exist,” he comes over and sits next to you on the bed. “But I think it’s an interesting way to learn about the history here.” If he was so sure, you weren’t going to try to change his mind. You were just happy that he was doing all this for you.

Once the tour started, you found yourself thankful that your boyfriend had paid for the private walkthrough. Some of the effect would have been lost if there’d been a huge group of people trying to squeeze through the dimly lit rooms and hallways. The tour guide was fantastic at setting the mood as well, explaining the stories of each haunting with just enough suspenseful flair.

“The previous owners of this house have reported repeatedly seeing a woman in a white dress standing by that window,” he explains. “They say she matches the description of a woman who died here, murdered by her lover who’d gone crazy after coming home from the war.”

At the beginning of the tour, Todoroki had curiously wandered around each room, investigating different items and asking questions. Now that you were deeper into the house though, he seemed less willing to stray too far from your side. You noticed he kept looking over his shoulder.

“Sometimes,” The tour guide continues, “When I’m closing up at night, I hear footsteps following me down this hallway even though I’m the only one here.”

“Really?” You ask, fascinated. “Have you ever seen anything?” You feel Shoto come up right behind you and put a hand on your waist.

“Yes!” The tour guide says dramatically, “I’ve often caught glimpses of a man’s face looking at me through mirrors or around corners.” The grip on your waist gets a little tighter.

“Are you okay, Shoto?” You ask, not understanding why he was being so clingy. It wasn’t like him at all.

“I’m fine,” he says but doesn’t let go of you.

“Oh!” The tour guide’s eyes suddenly go wide and he puts up his hands to ask for quiet. “Do you hear that?” You strain your ears and cover your mouth when the faint sound of a piano could be heard from somewhere nearby. The tour guide beckons you to follow him until you reach the room that was the source of the sound. You peek in the doorway and gasp when you see the keys of a grand piano playing by themselves.

“Look over there,” The tour guide suddenly whispers and you and Todoroki glance over to the corner of the room where a dark figure stood, barely visible in the shadows.

“Wow!” you were amazed but the grip your boyfriend had on you was almost getting uncomfortable now. You look up at him to see poorly concealed terror all over his face. You felt bad that he was reacting so badly so you took his hand into your own. “Most of it is tricks set up to excite the tourists,” you tell him to try and ease his fears.

The guide continues the tour after a moment but the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly come stomping down the hallway and move right past your small group. Todoroki’s eyes follow the sound as it fades out behind him. He actually starts to push you forward after that. “Please walk faster,” he tells you firmly.

You both were relieved when the tour was over. You’d enjoyed all the spooky experiences, but your poor boyfriend had not enjoyed even a moment of it. It was safe to say you wouldn’t be doing any more private haunted tours with him for the rest of the trip.

[cvriolanus]

pretty thing | caliban imagine

a/n: hello! this is my very first oneshot for caliban, as well as my first time writing again in over two years... please be patient with me, any mistakes or errors are my own. if you want to request something caliban related, just message me! i’ll be happy to write for you! also, feedback is always appreciated! thank you.

plot: you and caliban get up to some fun in Hell’s library.

warnings: fem!reader, manipulation, cocky caliban, sexual tension, fluff but not really??

˚✧₊♡⁎⁺˳.•

Caliban didn’t know what to make of you.

You confused him, so oblivious of his affection towards you. Caliban was drawn to you the moment he felt your presence, lingering next to the daughter of the Dark Lord, Sabrina Spellman.

Your bright eyes, shining in interest at the setting around you. Completely unaware of the hungry looks half the court was making at you, it made his insides burn. Unfortunately, he could do little to stop it. You weren’t his, you didn’t belong to him. The only thing Caliban could do was watch you from afar, making sure nothing happened to you, he made sure you were safe. That nobody would lay a finger on you or he’d drag them to Hell himself and make sure that their bodies were unrecognizable once he was finished. He could be cruel, he was aware of that already, but for you — he wasn’t sure how far he’d go to make sure that nobody would harm you. The thought alone infuriated him and he had no idea why.

You would often accompany Sabrina to Hell, asking if she could bring you along since the first time you went to Hell, something making you want to go back to that horrid place again and again — you just didn’t know what exactly what or rather more, who it was. It all started when you, Roz, Theo, Harvey and Sabrina went to Hell to get Sabrina’s boyfriend back.

You weren’t completely sure what it was, but the feeling was there all around you. You felt warm, protected and safe. You didn’t know if the warmth came from Hell itself, but you knew for sure that Hell wasn’t exactly a safe place... If anything, you’d most likely be killed the moment a demon laid their greedy eyes on you.

Sabrina listened to you, at first thinking that you’ve gone mental, but after hearing you out she decided that it wouldn’t hurt. As long as you stayed close to her and didn’t wander off, then you could go. The only downside was that you had to wear a pair of deadman shoes again.

Today was your third time in Hell, Sabrina was sitting on the throne discussing business with Lilith as usual, the only unusual thing was that there was now a man there that you recognized from the ‘Shores of Sorrow’. He was standing next to the Plague King’s, whispering to each other while the nameless man, with dirty blond hair and flawless skin, watched you with piercing eyes.

You didn’t know who he was, just that he was gorgeous and apparently likes building sandcastles. He also seems to like watching you, since the moment you’ve arrived, he hasn’t looked away. His eyes were intense, his face blank of emotion and he did nothing but stand there with the Kings and listen, occasionally giving a nod of understanding.

You swallowed, shrinking more and more into the corner, until Sabrina called your name. You had to practically tear your eyes away from the man, or else he’d probably think you’re the crazy one. You looked up to find Sabrina frowning at you, before opening her mouth. “Why don’t you and I hit the library? Lilith was just telling me that Hell has its very own personal library, one that my father used to use when he wanted to be alone. It has all these ancient texts and I know how much you love to read.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds lovely. Show me the way, ‘Brina.” Sabrina smiled brightly, before taking your hand into hers and leading you to the library. Once the two of you got there, Lilith immediately pops up in a tornado of raging flames, giving Sabrina a hard glare. “I told you that you could visit the library after your duties were finished for the day.”

Sabrina looked sheepish, opening her mouth to make up an excuse, but you beat her right to it. “Oh, Sabrina was just showing me the way here since she knows how much I love to read, she was afraid I’d get lost and felt that I needed to escape since I looked a little out of place,” you replied smoothly.

Lilith looked like she didn’t believe you, which she probably didn’t, but she nodded anyways. “Quite. You will stay here until Sabrina is finished, and then, and only then, she will come back to collect you to bring you back home, mortals don’t belong here anyways.”

You frowned, “Alright.” Sabrina shook her head, clearly disapproving of the way Lilith seemed to talk down at you, instead of with you. “Come Sabrina, we still have much to discuss.” Lilith spoke, clearly feeling impatient by the way she was tapping her foot against the hard marble. Sabrina gave you an apologetic look, promising you that she wouldn’t be long.

Once the two of them left, you went ahead and went through the many isles of bookshelves. This had to be the biggest library you’ve ever stepped foot into, it was at least twenty times bigger than the one at the Academy, it just had to be.

You roamed the different isles of books, running your fingertips over the spines of books gently. You wondered if you could do some research and find out why you were so drawn to Hell. As you collected the books you found that would be helpful, you made your way to the back of the library, seeing a bunch of cherry-wooden tables lined up with chairs for your pleasure.

You grinned, grateful as you hurriedly dropped the books on the table with a huff, they were absolutely heavy. You sat down, taking the first book in your view and opening it up, trailing your finger down the table of contents. Of course, there was a massive fireplace crackling away, keeping the library warm and comfortable.

A hour had passed, with you already halfway through the giant book when you heard the large, oak doors slam shut. You jumped, easily spooked out by the loud sound. You lifted your head, wincing slightly from your neck cracking. “Hello?” you asked, wondering if Sabrina had returned.

Nobody answered.

You were certain that you heard the doors to the library open and close, so you decided to get up and investigate. With your heart pounding against your ribcage frantically, you carefully got up and made your way to the nearest isle of books. With a shaky breath, you called out again. “Sabrina? Is that you?” Maybe whoever it was couldn’t hear you since this place was so massive, but it was so quiet in here... surely, that couldn’t be the case.

You walked slowly, your sneakers luckily not making any noise which you were thankful for. You heard another sound suddenly, and it sounded like a cry for help, a woman’s cry. “H-Hello? Please answer me,” you begged, beginning to really panic now. The crying grew closer with each step you took, seeming to get louder and louder as the person crying was full on screaming now, shaking the walls of this place.

You quickly ran down the long isle, not noticing a pair of eyes on you. As you went to go another way, the crying stopped. It was silent, except from your heavy breathing.

“You have the most beautiful heartbeat.”

You let out a loud cry, grabbing a heavy book from the shelf and swinging it at the intruder behind you, before they abruptly grasped your wrist tightly to stop your movements.

It was the man from the beach.

Your eyes immediately widened, “Y-You again, how did you—“

“I followed you. Figured a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be left alone down here, where anything could get to you and tear up that pretty face of yours.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, making your nose scrunch up a bit. “Who are you?” you asked, your voice stern, eyes ablazed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, I thought someone was hurt or worse—“

“I’m sorry I frightened you, sweetheart. But I must admit, I do like a game of cat and mouse quite a lot. As for who I am, I’m Caliban, Prince of Hell,” Caliban spoke, his voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You instantly felt your heart sink at his words, like a giant grenade bomb going off in you. “Oh,” you spoke dumbly. “Prince of Hell?” you questioned, still slightly shaken from this whole encounter. Caliban, the Prince of Hell, smiled. It was breathtaking. Caliban hummed softly, still holding your wrists in his strong grasp. “What would the Prince of Hell be doing following a mortal girl like me?” you wondered aloud.

Caliban chuckled softly, finally letting go of you and taking a step back, running long fingers through his blond hair lazily. “I’ve been following you, for the last couple of weeks... don’t tell me you haven’t felt my presence near you, I know that you could feel me,” Caliban purred, taking a step towards you, daringly.

Your mouth went dry, not sure you heard him correctly. “But why? You don’t know me, I’m just—“

“Beautiful,” Caliban interrupted, his voice low as his eyes seemed to dilate. You let out a nervous laugh, shifting from foot to foot. Caliban’s pink lips curled up into a smirk, “Would you like to join me in bed?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head, “What? No! I don’t—I don’t even know you! You could kill me!” Caliban let out a small laugh at your naive tone, backing you up against a bookshelf, his arms trapping you. Your breathing increased, pressing your back against the shelf until the hard wood was digging into your back uncomfortably, making you let out a small wince. His eyes lit up at the noise.

“I won’t hurt you, not unless you enjoy pain,” Caliban spoke, looking down at you with a hungry look in his eyes. Caliban bent so that his face was just mere centimeters away from yours, now breathing the same air as you. The familiar feelings of warmth surrounded you again, but you didn’t feel safe this time. Your lips parted, about to tell this guy to fuck off, but Caliban was quicker, pressing his lips against yours desperately.

You let out a low whine, immediately gripping Caliban’s arms just as he deepened the kiss, swiping his hot tongue over your bottom lip, making you whimper. You didn’t even notice, but you began kissing him back just as fiercely, craving his hot mouth on yours. “Please,” you begged, brokenly. You didn’t know what you were asking from him, but he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

Caliban pressed his entire body against yours, your nipples hardening at the feel of his hard body against your own. Caliban brought up his right hand, cupping the side of your face while continuing to kiss you passionately, his tongue now stroking yours eagerly, his thumb gently stroking your jaw. The Prince of Hell noticed how sensitive you were, he could smell the honey pooling between your legs. It was making him crazy, feral almost.

“Let me fuck you,” Caliban rasped, pulling only a inch away, grinding his hardness into your hips, making you let out a shaky moan. You didn’t know what the fuck was going on, one minute you were desperate to get away from this man, the next he had you pinned up against a bookshelf, kissing you senseless.

You were about to respond, but the library doors slammed open, your eyes following the sound of footsteps grow closer and closer. You swallowed, your skin beginning to feel damp with sweat. A voice you recognized called your name, making your heart begin to race once again. It was Sabrina. “You have to go,” you pleaded Caliban, who only seemed annoyed at being interrupted from his time with you.

A idea seemed to pop into his head only a second later, his lips forming a gorgeous smirk, “No,” he purred, bending down so that his lips ghosted over your ear. His lips began trailing down your neck, peppering wet kisses against your soft skin, lightly sucking on your pulse point.

You let out a needy moan, throwing your head back with a soft thump as it collided with the hard bookshelf, though you paid it little attention, too focused on this man that was making your legs weak.

Sabrina’s voice broke you out of your little world once again, startling you. She was coming closer. “Pretty thing. Are you scared of your friend finding us back here?” Caliban growled, nipping lightly at your neck before he pressed his lips against yours once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “She’d be so disappointed with you...” he trailed off, leaving you to your dark thoughts. “Just think, you’re getting felt up by the one person who your dear friend Sabrina is fighting against to claim the throne of Hell, is now about to fuck her best friend in the back of her father’s library. How scandalous,” he tutted, before letting out a soft laugh as he pressed another kiss against your plump lips.

“N-No, you can’t,” you wailed, trying to break free of his power over you. Caliban smiled, shaking his head. “Yes, I can.” Tears were prickling at your eyes, making them burn with angst. “Please, Caliban—I’ll do anything,” you whimpered.

Caliban seemed to pause at your words, hearing Sabrina’s heels clicking against the marble flooring, most likely trying to find you in this maze, but unbeknownst to both of you, Caliban had the two of you cloaked. Caliban pulled back slightly, looking at the tears pooling in your pretty eyes. He frowned, letting out a aggravated sigh. “Anything?”

You nodded frantically, your lips parting to try and compromise with this man. “Yes,” you breathed. “I promise.”

Caliban smiled, showing off his straight, white teeth. “Alright, well since you promise...” he trailed off, playfully. Caliban looked at you for a minute longer, savoring the way you looked to his memory. You were perfect in his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting for you tonight,” Caliban said, pulling away from you, though staying close. “Make sure you’re awake, or I’ll be very displeased.”

“Tonight?” you asked, puzzled.

“In your bedroom, midnight. See you then, pretty thing.”

With that being said, Caliban disappeared into a whirl of flames, making you jump. The second he was gone, Sabrina came around the corner, a smile on her face. “There you are! Sweet Satan, I was looking all over for you. Are you okay? I’m so sorry I left you alone, but business in Hell is a little... overwhelming.”

You shook your head, smiling as you tried blinking away your tears. “I’m fine, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

Sabrina sighed, nodding at you. “Absolutely, I’m starving. You want to grab something to eat? Maybe we can catch a movie later to, if you’re willing to stay over.”

You agreed happily, “Sure, I just can’t be out too late.”

Sabrina wiggled her eyebrows at you, walking by your side to the entrance of the library. “Ooh, you’ve got plans with someone or something?”

You grinned, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of him. “Or something.”

Sabrina laughed, taking your hand so that she could bring you back to earth. You would never openly admit it, but you were looking forward to later that night.

fin

[everydayanth]

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years. 

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time. 

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall. 

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite. 

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week. 

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement). 

We were expendable. 

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short. 

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives. 

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.” 

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and  week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.  

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick. 

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry. 

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not. 

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge. 

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

[dasphinxone]

I hope I'm not too late and asks are still open. But I wondered if you had any more thoughts/ideas/scenes/etc for the Mummy au? I totally love your contribution of Booker and Nicky as brothers and what that dynamic would look like. BAMF!Nile and Librarian!Booker give me life. Thanks for all your wonderful au ideas and fic!

Oh man, you are NEVER too late for Asks and they are currently open! In the meantime, allow me to ramble about my PURE AND UTTER LOVE FOR THE FRASER/WEISZ VERSIONS OF “THE MUMMY.” 

You see, I had a mad HUGE crush on Brendan Fraser when the first one came out. Except it turned out that the entire damn cast was so beautiful (OMG, the Oded Fehr hotness. So glad they brought him back for the sequel). They all have wonderful chemistry too, and rather similar to the group dynamics of The Old Guard. 

On top of that, I have always maintained that it’s Evie who is the real protagonist of the movie. Everyone else stays pretty much the same to their characters as when we’re introduced to them. Meanwhile, it’s Evie who goes from librarian to adventuress. She is thrown into all sorts of situations where she can prove to the world that librarians are just as damn smart and necessary as the brawns of Rick, the cunning of her brother Johnathan and the honorable warrior of Ardeth Bay.

It’s also Evie who comes out of the other end of the wild-ass adventure a changed person. It’s even more obvious in the sequel, where she takes a level in badassery. The best part about that? Rick adores her for it and they are clearly in a happy marriage versus the tired trope of married couples being all bitter. 

(I pretend the third movie NEVER HAPPENED, you hear me?!)

ANYWAYS, As Evie and Jonathan grew up rich (the museum curator clearly says to Evie that the only reason he puts up with her is that her parents were the largest donors to the museum), I figure Booker can grow up pretty wealthy too.

Sébastien le Livre is an only child who spends his life around his Action and Adventure!French Parents who have moved to Egypt to be archeologists. While they are world famous archeologists? They’re not the best parents. For they drag Sébastien along on their archeological excursions because they don’t know any better. So Sébastien spends all of his childhood time around his parents and their eccentric adult friends. Yes, they should have sent Sébastien to boarding school, like other rich folks of their time. But what kind of boring-ass education is that as compared to going out into the real world for field study?  

Sébastien’s field experience makes him brilliant child. Yet it also turns him into a socially awkward little boy. He’s rarely around other kids or attending school since he out on digs with his parents. On top of that, when his parents can’t bring him on digs, they leave him home in their great big house with his nanny, tutor and the servants for company. Since Sébastien doesn’t have kid friends, he’s always taking in stray animals, rescuing birds that fell out of their nests and doing precious sorts of things like that. He also LOVES reading. He’s fluent in French, English, Latin, Greek  and conversational Arabic. Oh, and he can also read hieroglyphs with ease.

Again, Sébastien is a weird kid.

When Sébastien is around say, nine or so, he catches seven year-old orphan Nicky in the parlor of his and his parent’s grand house breaking in and trying to steal things. His parents are out of town on yet another dig, so Sébastien’s randomly wandering around the house by himself. Instead of panicking, Sébastien just invites spooked Nicky to kitchen for tea and sandwiches out of the sheer delight of having another child to talk to. Thoroughly used to Sébastien and his soft spot for strays, the kitchen staff sits the two boys in the corner and lets Nicky wolf down whatever he wants. Nicky eventually leaves after Sébastien swears he won’t tell his parents about the stealing. But only if Nicky promises to come back tomorrow to hang out with Booker.

Nicky actually shows up the next day. Mostly due to the promise of food. While he thinks Sébastien is clearly odd, he also realizes he’s just as lonely as he is (after all, street kid orphan Nicky hasn’t survived this long on his own without being able to see people for what they truly are). But whereas Nicky is aggressive with acting out due to his abandonment issues, Sébastien tends to implode on himself due to his own parental abandonment issues. Basically, they balance each other out. 

Three weeks later, Sébastien’s parents come back from their latest dig down in Alexandria. They find Sébastien playing with this street kid out on the extensive grounds of their estate. Shocked at seeing their usually quiet and withdrawn son having a blast with this Italian ragamuffin of a child, due to being the impulsive types, Booker’s parents decide to adopt Nicky. So Sébastien gains a new brother. No matter that they’re not related by blood, Nicky is his brother.

Since Sébastien loves to read, he enjoys reading out loud to Nicky (who is nearly illiterate since he’s an orphan who never had formal education before being adopted). While Sébastien and Nicky have their own rooms at their parents’ estate, Nicky will often sneak into Sébastien’s room at night so that his older brother can read to him. Their nanny usually finds the two boys asleep together with a book sitting between them. Sébastien also helps Nicky learn to read far better than their tutor does. Mostly because Sébastien is so patient with his new little brother.

It’s because of this that Nicky comes up with the affectionate nickname of “Booker” for his new big brother.

Booker graduates from boarding school and attends The Sorbonne back in Paris. While he misses Nicky something fierce, everything will work itself out because he’ll be graduating from The Sorbonne at the same time Nicky will be finishing boarding school. That way, they both be archeologists together and follow in their parents’ footsteps. Booker plans to focus on the research side of things from either libraries or teaching. Nicky plans to actually go on digs and bring back things for Booker to study and catalogue.

Booker does eventually get sent off to British style boarding school in Cairo, as is expected of a wealthy child of his class. A couple of years later, Nicky is sent off to the same boarding school.

Nicky's always getting into fights. Mostly due to the other kids bullying him for his accent, heritage and defending Booker against bullies too. The only reason Nicky doesn’t’ get kicked out is because Booker is able to charm the teachers into looking the other way (remember, he was around mostly adults before he started attending school) when it comes to punishing Nicky. Also, their parents donate a ton of money to the school.

Except the Great War breaks out the same year Nicky graduates from boarding school. He signs up with his school chums for “a great adventure,” like all of the other young men of means did in the opening days of the war. 

However, Booker refuses to come along. He’s studied history all of his life and intellectually knows how terrible war can be. As far as he’s concerned, the war is stupid. People are going to get themselves killed over all of these royal families of Europe who refuse to apologize to each other over the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. He’s certainly not throwing his life away to get shot at, thank you very much. Besides, he didn’t grow up with much in the way of friends or camaraderie among the other boys while he was away at school. So he doesn’t feel like he’s going to miss out on anything. 

Nicky thinks Booker is a coward who has no appreciation for a right proper great adventure. Booker thinks Nicky is a headstrong fool who doesn’t value the opportunities their parents have given them. They part ways on bad terms. 

Booker eventually relents and writes to Nicky whenever he can. However, he never hears from his little brother. The only way he knows Nicky is alive is through their parents, who Nicky constantly writes to in Cairo. At the same time, Booker doesn’t  return to Cairo because it would remind him too much of how much he misses his brother. So he throws himself into his work at the Egyptian Antiquities department of the Louvre. He also tries to ignore the raging war moving closer and closer to Paris.

Wars come and go, antiquities do not.

Except Nicky suddenly goes missing during the Battle of Verdun.

Still in Paris, Booker is dealing with his side of suffering through the war as a civilian. He suddenly gets frantic word from his parents (who still live in Cairo) that Nicky is MIA. The panic immediately starts to set in. He regrets that he didn’t do more to communicate with his little brother while he was away at war. To assuage his guilt, he goes down to the war office every single day to find out where the hell Nicky is.

After a few frantic weeks, Nicky turns up alive but injured. As a result, he’s evacuated to a Parisian hospital. Booker takes a sabbatical at the Louvre to attend to his beloved brother there. Nicky almost dies of an infection but pulls through. Too weak to go back to fighting, Nicky is honorably discharged and goes to live with Booker to convalesce.

Nicky’s not the same vivacious, passionate young man he was before the war. He’s the only one of a handful of his unit to survive both death and not losing a limb or having parts of his face blown off. So there’s the survivor’s guilt. He constantly has nightmares about his time on the front and in No Man’s Land where he wakes up screaming. Bouts of rage and grief hit him without warning.

In order to deal with the crushing swirl of ugliness that’s festering within him, Nicky starts spiraling. He starts heavily drinking. He skips meals. He starts hitting up gambling dens and whorehouses that can make your every wish come true in Paris.

Booker has no idea how to cope with it all. So he once again throws himself into his work. He feels disgusted with himself for silently judging his brother’s actions all while he absolutely has no clue how to deal with his own guilt of not being by Nicky’s side during the war. Perhaps it would have been better to have died together than exist in the sea of darkness they are trapped within now.

Within two years, the war is over. Everyone celebrates only to see the rise of the Spanish Flu Pandemic. It ends up killing Booker and Nicky’s parents, who die within days of each other back in Cairo. 

Now, Booker and Nicky are alone in the world and with only each other to depend on. Wanting to escape all the pain they’ve seen in Paris, they head back to Cairo to put their parents’ estate in order. Since their parents split their inheritance evenly between them, they’ve inherited a hell of a lot of money. At the same time, money doesn’t fix their psychological problems.

Yet while they both have a difficult time dealing with their parents’ death and each other’s war trauma? It turns over a new milestone for them. For it allows Booker and Nicky to make their peace with each other since they're the only ones left of their family. They vow that they’ll try to go back to their dream of working together as an archeologist team.

Unfortunately, it never happens. Nicky is still dealing with the PTSD and acting out. Booker tries to manage his  brother’s psychological issues and balance his work at the Cairo Museum. Problem is, it’s a job he knows he only managed to secure out of pity since their parents were the largest donors to the museum. The nepotism stings and makes Booker feel inadequate. All despite that he's a damn good researcher and brilliant at languages and hieroglyphics.

Booker once again throws himself into his work at the museum. He has no social life, rarely goes out for fun and no relationship lasts for more than a few months at a time. For he’s grieving his parents and the shell of a man Nicky has become. Meanwhile, Nicky drinks, gambles and whores his way through Egypt in between digs with folks no better than grave robbers. But he always comes back home to stay with Booker in the nice house they own together.

Booker is always there for Nicky and vice versa. No matter how hard it gets for both of them to deal with the losses in their lives, they are and will always be brothers to the end.

And then one day, Nicky finds Booker in the Cairo museum after he’s been rejected by the Benbridge Scholars yet again. All after Booker’s ruined the library and knocked over all the bookshelves after he nearly killed himself trying to get off that damn ladder while filing away books.

Nicky reveals to Booker an odd little box that he found on a dig down in Thebes. Turns out the box contains a map to the lost city of Hamunaptra…

[pebblysand]

[SEPTEMBER ‘21] - THE LIFE/WRITING UPDATE NO ONE ASKED FOR (AND SOME QUICK LINKS)

well, hello hello, welcome, it is september first and hogwarts is back in session, haha! where’s your letter, did you get it? i hope so!

in true gryffindor fashion, i’m a summer person. i like parties, the beach and hot weather, so i’m currently working hard, trying to delay the inevitable return of autumn and the dreaded back-to-school mood by staying in sunny southern france for a few more days. i’ll be back in dublin on saturday where, as per usual, rain has been scheduled to occur upon my return lol.

Anyway, before diving into more life/writing updates, here are some quick links to different blog pages you might not see on mobile :

to read my fics [updated]

to read my original work

fic recs

to read my tumblr rants about stuff

[NOTE: i am currently not accepting prompts. i already have a backlog, folks.]

Castles (chap 9) ETA: optimistic? 19 September. realistic? october.

links extended a/n-s: chapter v ; chapter vi & vii ; chapter viii

[more life/writing updates under the cut]

what i’m reading:

i’m actually quite happy with my book reading this month. i read a friend’s short-ish (27k) story, as well as two full books, and started a third. i wanted my holidays to be a time of catching up with missed reading opportunities, and it definitely was.

first, i read three rooms by jo hamya. i picked this one up because it was recommended by my bookshop, was written by a BAME author, marketed as a ‘millenial’ literary fiction novel which i’m always a sucker for, and the cover looked intriguing. the story is that of an unnamed narrator in her early/mid-twenties, navigating the end of her masters degree and her first job in london. to be honest, as i previously said in another post, i don’t particularly fancy myself as a book critic so i don’t really like to say negative things about the books i read. as an author, i know how hard things can hurt when people are talking about your writing sort-of behind your back and i’m always paranoid that the author might one day see what i’ve written, lol. this being said, what i will say about this book is that while not bad, it wasn’t really a fit for me. the writing is very good, crisp and quick just the way i like it (though if you get irritated by the current trend of not using quotation marks for dialogue, you might get irritated by this), but i just found it hard to relate to the characters. i think you will like this if you like books that are more about their setting and their world rather than plot or character. the author is really good at describing current britain, life in london, the book is brilliant at describing the millennial ‘world’ of social media, politics, etc. but its main character seems to just aimlessly float through her life without any sense of self or purpose, which i personally found very frustrating. the book addresses issues of class, poverty, temp contracts, housing prices, discrimination but it feels very much like a matter-of-fact statement rather than an actual argument to change things. the other characters are mildly more purposeful but very single-purpose and while the novel is interesting but it didn’t really make me feel anything beyond an intense desire to grab the narrator by the shoulders and scream: do something! three stars.

then, i read incendiary by chris cleave. full review here. this book is just unreal and the best fiction i’ve read in close to a year. if i could give ten stars i would.

i’ve now started an american marriage by tayari jones. unless you’ve been living under a rock, this has probably been recommended to you a billion times already, but what can i say, i’m always late lol. i’m only about 100 pages in but seems promising.

in terms of fanfic, i honestly haven’t read much bar this one fantastic spooks au of which i really wish there was more of. i have trolled all of livejournal and dreamwidth to find the rest and came up empty. tragic.

what i’m writing:

funny how the girl on a writing break still managed to put out circ. 9,000 words in a month, lol. granted, pick me choose me love me was written in july, but still.

this being said, i do feel like i took time off and i do feel way better than i did back in july. looking back, i was exhausted and burnt out and felt like i was mostly writing to fulfill people’s expectations, rather than to make me happy. i’m now feeling much more confident with my words. the story that i did write this month was a self-indulgent bit of fun because it was written for a fandom no one cares about, and rather liberating, if i’m honest. i think i needed to write something for me and my audience of three again, and it was great. i genuinely love that story. i do think that if you want to give it a try, it might be one of those that can be read without having watched the show in question because it’s about a side character so a lot of what’s in there is original rather than show-related. if you do want to read it, it’s here: listening to that angel choir.

in terms of upcoming projects, i’m happy to announce that i’m actually excited to get back to castles, which is exactly what i wanted this break to achieve. i’m waiting until i get back to dublin to get back to work but i’m ready to dive back in and honestly can’t wait. as i said above the cut, i would love to put it on the 19th September but i’m not sure that i’ll manage to whip out next chapter this quickly. it’s not unheard of, so we shall see. also, castles is turning a year old on 16 sep, which is absolutely fucking insane. i certainly did not think it would be this massive of a project when i undertook it, lol. the numbers on it both in terms of wordcount and appreciation/hits give me vertigo so i try not to look at them but honestly, i can’t thank you all enough. i know i always say this but i come from very small audiences and fandoms and the amount of love i’ve been getting this past year thanks to all of you has meant the world. thank you.

in terms of one shots, i’ll be mostly focusing on castles this month, so i probably won’t write anything else. this being said, for those of your on tumblr, just be aware that you might see me repost some of the tumblr ficlets that i posted on tumblr these past few months on ao3 soon-ish. i initially decided to keep them on tumblr alone because they were too short but i’ve been having anxiety about tumblr collapsing and these things disappearing into the ether. so, don’t be alarmed, they should be the same, just reposted.

what i’m doing:

honestly, this month has been amazing, especially the past three weeks. i’ve been able to relax, see family & friends, went hiking, had my birthday, hired a boat - it’s been fab. as alluded to before, i’ve also been having fun rewatching spooks, which is definitely a series worth watching, even ten years after it ended. i find it even more fascinating in light of what is going on in afghanistan at the moment, and of course the presence in the show of rupert penry-jones whom i think every straight woman with a pulse fancies, is an added bonus.

anyway, i hope you’re all doing well. see you next month for pumpkin spice lattes (yeah, look, i’m a basic white girl) and the beginning of my seasonal depression.

lots of love,

pebblysand.

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Outside the Wall

Part 19

Hey guys, very short, laid back chapter. I finished up writing my timari spitefest work and then immediately had a 6 month old puppy brought into my life. She likes sleeping on my hand. If you guys want, I'll post a picture of her, but the point is that writing may slow down significantly due to training and cuddles. Sorry this is almost more of a filler.

Wonderfully patient CLOSED taglist: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Walking through the portal, Jason took in the sight of his team dropping their transformations one at a time, taking no mind to the kid who walked in behind him. Guess it didn't really matter. What are the chances he would recognize them in any manner that mattered? Plus, they wanted the kid to feel comfortable here. That he could trust them.

Marinette walked over to him, barely glancing at the awkward Robin standing out of place.

"Alright, reprieve is over. You'll never adjust to your body this way," she said with an apologetic smile, lacing their fingers together and both loosening their crushing grip on their bond they'd been holding for the last two hours. As they both relaxed their minds, they slipped back into their own bodies, souls settling happily into their rightful place. 

Placed properly, Jason turned towards the Robin in the room, offering a lopsided smirk, "Welcome to the shitshow."

He shuffled his feet, "I don't plan…"

"On staying. Yes, we know Timothy. It's okay," Marinette helped him out, smile soft.

His shoulders tensed and narrowed eyes stared them down, staying quiet.

"Look, replacement, we're not trying to intimidate you or anything. We know Bruce's identity. Comes with being one of his charity cases, you know? It's not difficult to figure out which kid ended up in his care next," he intoned, trying to help Timothy see their lack of intentions towards revealing his identity.

"We only thought it fair you should be made aware of what exactly we know. I imagine it would be quite unsettling to think you had the upper hand on us only to find out later that we knew the whole time," Marinette chimed in next.

They watched as his face screwed up with an off put expression only to nod his assent, "That would bother me more, yeah."

"My name is Marinette," she put her hand out towards him, waiting patiently.

"Tim," he carefully shook her hand, staying almost formal despite the informal correction, "So the part about you getting stuck in the former Robin's body during his death. That's why you share the madness you mentioned before?"

"Lazarus Pit insanity. So fun. Definitely recommend," Jason decided to butt in, noticing the way Tim focused on Marinette the moment they switched bodies, "we were both dipped in a way, though she got the short end of the stick. My body, her soul."

"So some of it transferred due to it contaminating her soul then?" Tim asked, finally looking at him.

"Pretty much. Splitting it up this way makes it easier to handle," Marinette answered.

Tim seemed to consider this for a moment, "why are you answering me so willingly?"

"What purpose would hiding it serve?" He countered, receiving a surprised silence in response.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that out there. I'm sure that couldn't have been pleasant," Marinette slowly brought her hand to his shoulder, leaving plenty of time to move if the kid decided the contact was unwanted. When Tim allowed it, eyes still almost glaring, she smiled up at Jason and led the boy further into the room while he followed behind.

Zeroing in on where Marc stood on the phone, he gave a curious look only for Marc to end the call and curiously glance at the screen before turning back to the room at large, "That was Alfred. He can't make it here for a few days due to the giant man baby that's currently throwing a fit, but apparently someone else will be coming by tomorrow to speak to you two," This was partially directed towards Tim, but mostly to himself, "Said one would know her as a bat, the other as the eye in the sky."

"Barbara's coming? Oh great! It's been entirely too long since we've seen her!" Mari perked up, "did he say when to expect her?"

"Around eleven," they easily replied, picking their way over towards the trio, "sorry about holding you down by the way. Couldn't let you get caught up in that mess. My name is Marc," was directed at Robin.

"So… you were the mice?"

"They were the mice, yes. I'm Juleka. I was the one who brought you to the portal."

"The fox then, and you were likely the cat?" Tim directed towards Kagami.

"Kagami. In the next room over is Chloe."

"The one who opened the portal."

Jason felt a strange sense of appreciation for how quickly Tim placed the identities together. As well as a sense of dread. This kid was too bright, too sharp, based on what Mari told him, to be so easily fooled by Bruce. To not see how toxic that environment was. What happened to his replacement to make him so willing to overlook it all?

At this point a small hand slipped into his as Chloe introduced herself to the boy, having entered the room a moment before. Looking down, he took note of Damian huddling closer to him, watching the scene unfold.

"Another one?" The kid grumbled, tightening the grip on his hand and looking none too pleased, "I know you said I'd have to adjust to new people, but isn't this a bit much?"

"I don't know, kid, you seem pretty accepting of me," Jason tilted his head, watching the kid stiffen slightly, a blush overcoming his face.

"I hadn't realized you changed back yet," Damian replied, though he remained gripping his hand as they watched Tim interact with the others, "Will they all leave already?" The kid added, drawing his eyes back down to the uncomfortable shifting. Glancing at the clock, he figured he might as well indulge Damian every now and then.

"Chloe, lead the herd, would you?" He asked, maintaining eye contact to get his point across.

"Alright you lot, time to head out. Surely Robin won't be too comfortable around all of us for very long."

There was a touch of an argument over this, but eventually the team picked themselves up around the apartment and headed out, saying they might stay away for a few days. Jason caught the grateful smile on Marinette's face and took his small victory in how Damian pulled him back a little when he moved, as though afraid he might leave as well. 

When the apartment quieted down and everything went still, he took a deep breath and led the kid over towards the kitchen, feeling Marinette move behind him to follow. He set a pot onto the stove and filled it with milk to heat up, turning to look through the cabinets while it heated up, "Have you ever had Hot Chocolate, kid?"

"You mean melted? Once. I was given a piece to hide, but it melted a bit," Damian answered, sounding disappointed, though at only having it once or having to admit letting it melt, he wasn't sure, "Why?"

"Not quite what I meant. But I'll take it as a no. We're gonna have some tonight then," Jason responded, pulling down a bag of milk chocolate chips. They'd have to do. He pulled his hand up to ruffle the kid's hair, chuckling as he yanked back with a sneer, shuffling over to duck into Marinette's side, who'd been holding easy conversation with Tim all the while, carefully not commenting on the way the Robin pulled off his mask carefully and was beginning to calm down now that there weren't as many people. Jason chose this moment to eavesdrop, now that he no longer had to occupy Damian.

"Why's the new one still here?"

"Damian, this is Tim. He needed a place to stay."

"Why does it have to be here?"

"The same one who wronged Jason and I has wronged him as well. I imagine being around people who understand his position and won't judge him helps."

Jason chose to speak up now, "Marinette took you in when you had no one. When the two of you understood each other and felt connected for it. That's how you came to be family. He and I have a similar understanding."

"So he is family to you?"

"Nah, think more like when you first met her."

"You are… Wanting to protect him despite not personally knowing him. Instinct."

"Now you got it," he responded, pouring four mugs of the beverage, ignoring the calculating gaze between his shoulder blades. Then went about handing them out despite Tim's reassurance that he was fine, "drink it or don't, won't bother me either way, but I'm not going to leave you out."

Damian remained silent up until this point, observing the young teen curiously before passing his final judgement, "okay, as long as he sticks with you," the unspoken threat to keep away from Marinette did not go unheard.

"No one will take your place in my heart, little one. That place was created for you. If I become close to anyone else, they'll have to find their own place. Yours is occupied," she assured, as they both pretended not to hear his unbelieving grumbles. That lesson would be learned with time. 

Through it all, Tim kept to himself, sipping slowly and watching their interactions. Jason couldn't know what the boy thought, but if he had to wager a guess, he probably felt suspicious over how open and honest they were. Confused by their relation to Damian, but unsure if it was safe to ask. Likely, the teen just wasn't sure what to make of it all and wouldn't for quite a while. 

It'll take time and reassurance, probably even multiple visits from Alfred and Barbara to convince Tim that this was a safe place for him, but they had time to spend.