#dropping hints way before the story is actually ready to post

[tak466]

I sometimes like to make fun of myself as I'm writing. It helps with the process.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x02

We are short on the costumes to look at this week as we continue this multi episode arc, so this meta is going to be a pretty short one! I’ve had a pretty busy weekend, so things have worked out for me and its also the reason why I'm only posting this on a Tuesday evening!!!!

There are a few things to point out before I get to the main costumes - we have more bright pink in play here - on the Mom in the car that got hit by the drunk driver. I still have no idea what its trying to tell us a this point, but I have my eyes peeled for more bright pink to appear in the next couple of episodes and see if I can unravel its use.

On the non costume front, on the ship - its a yellow cable that leads to the bomb that ensures communication cannot be restored to the ship when nit explodes - the fact the communications engineer also dies, just re-emphaises the point. Communication is a key theme in this episode.

Back to costumes an in the same vein as the cable, we see Captain O’s deputy in his yellow rain coat when she gives the abandon ship order, and the yellow wire is prominent on the radio when she tells him to do so. He is now the one responsible for communicating her order to the rest of the ship and getting everyone onto the life boats. This is good and effective communication and we see the results of it as we are shown the ship being evacuated. 

Hen and Karen are the only ones we get in a new costume this week.

Lets start with Karen - its an interesting choice - we have her in this navy blue shirt and trousers combo with a brown belt. the top has blue and green Richelieu (cutwork) design on the sleeves and the trousers are also decorated with Richelieu. There are two things at play with this costume choice - the almost entirely navy outfit places her in the same category as Chim, Buck and Eddie. this is very very intentional - Karen mirroring/paralleling them places her in the same position they hold - Karen is meant to be there to show that Hens thought process is flawed and as an outsider to proceedings thats really important for the audience - we need to see that Hen isn't this flawless captain that we've been shown up to this point. The other thing it's designed to do is maintain Hen as separate from everyone else. This visual device helps the script re-enforce things so that when she is then spurred into trying to get hold of Bobby and Athena we are focused on her because of her 'otherness' visually she stands out and we obviously need her to to help drive the narrative forward.

The other thing with Karens costume is the green and blue Richelieu which creates this visual representation of storm clouds swirling and moving in - a subtle reference, not only to Hen's currently cloudy viewpoint on things, but also to the impending storm brewing out in the ocean around the cruise ship. I really love it when they can drop subtle hints like this in set and costuming!

THen we have Hen!

Putting her into her white tee, jeans, green sneakers and this printed silk jacket, and not showing her changing out of her uniform into said outfit while the rest of the firearm are still in uniform helps to separate her from the ‘three Judases’ its a really loud and obvious visual way of separating her from the not only the three boys, but also from the firehouse as a whole. The way the scene is set up helps with this as well -she is on the same side of the bench and room as Chim, Buck and Eddie, until they question her version of events (Eddie is the one to actually ask the question and he is the one dressed differently to Chim and Buck - this isn't about putting him in opposition to them, more just visually signalling that he's the one to ask the important question that we as viewers should be ready for) and then she moves away from them and becomes visually in opposition to them. Its the perfect example of costume, set and direction working in perfect harmony to tell the story visually - we don't actually need to hear whats been said, we can tell it all from the way its shown to us visually.

Hens jacket is a fascinating choice - it plays into a couple of themes we’ve seen in action over the two episodes we’ve had thus far. I did write a little bit about it when we got the first stills of it (which I now cannot find - stupid tumblr search!) but essentially it is a jacket that has various places around California - the golden gate bridge, the redwood trees in Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, etc. as well as the victorian style rose pattern running along the cuffs and edges of the jacket.

The pink roses are a really lovely touch - and one I picked up on specifically because Hen is not a flowery kind of person, so seeing them on her means they are important. Pink roses are generally considered to signify a strong friendship or family bond - something that is ultimately at the heart of matters - the fire family are just that - a family and they might have argument's etc, but they still love each other as a family and will go all out to be there for each other. Its a low key piece of

then we have all that water - do we even need to talk about its meaning?!! Its a literal visual play on the entire them of this arc - water! We all know that water is a really key theme that 911 uses a lot in its storytelling, whether thats big water based events such at the Tsunami or this cruise ship disaster, or smaller low key water theming such as the rain being present at so many of the disasters we see. I'm interested that we now have it appearing on Hen - because it hasn't really been connected to her in many of her personal story arcs (by this I mean arcs such as her deciding and training to be a doctor, Henren's journey through parenthood, the ambulance crash or even Karens lab blowing up last season) so its interesting that we're now seeing her pulled into the water theming in a visual way like this. It is also a play on the two aspects of this episode - there is the loud water theming of the Cruise ship, but there is also the fact Hen has landed in hot water/ deep water.

Hen is also wearing her 'H' necklace, not her 'K' one. This is important because her necklaces tend to be a visual indicator of what her arc is about - the 'H' is worn when it's about her specifically and not her marriage/ family, which is when we tend to see the 'K' heart pendant being worn.

Thats all from me this week! Thank you as always for reading and I hope you enjoyed the shortness of this post - I doubt many of the others will be this short 😂

Tagged peeps below!

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @rogerzsteven @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @bi-moonlight @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud @evanbuckleysarms @satashiiwrites

[severalforraelee]

Mystic Beauty: Thor x Reader

Word count: 2,132

Posted Oct 23

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

“I cannot let you in,” the Hydra agent tells Steve. I watch through the trees as he narrows his eyes at the superhero. “And I suggest that you leave now so that it doesn’t get violent.”

“Violent?” A smirk tugs at Steve’s lips. “Why would it have to get violent?”

Just as the group of Hydra agents get ready to attack, Tony is the one to speak.

“You know what, I know just what will change your mind. Mystic, come out here, please.”

I take a deep breath, stepping out from behind the tree’s trunk with a soft smile on my face. Even though their faces are hidden behind their masks, I can tell that the Hydra agents' jaws drop at the sight of me.

I feel their eyes trail down my body, starting with my long, glimmering hair to the off the shoulder crop top that accentuates my collarbones, then onto the high-waisted shorts that show just a hint of my abs, the sheer cape attached to them highlighting the length and fitness of my legs, ending at the heeled boots that tie the entire gold outfit together.

My trademark smirk tugs at my lips, but my chest tightens as I see their eyes scan my body up and down.

“Morning, boys,” I say, taking careful steps closer to them. I watch the rest of the Avengers carefully watch the interaction out of the corner of my eye. “Listen, I’m really a lover, not a fighter. So if I just asked for us to enter the building, what would you say to that?”

They exchange glances with each other before quickly nodding, practically pushing each other out of the way of the entrance to the factory building being used to manufacture weapons.

“Thank you, boys,” I pat one of the guards on the shoulder as I walk past him. He faints behind me.

“Nice work, Mystic Beauty,” Spider-Man teases before running by me to explore.

I put on a smile for the rest of the superheroes at the mention of my superhero name. Mystic Beauty, because my beauty puts everyone into awe. I can do anything I want and get away with it because everyone is so fascinated by my beauty. I can get others to do things as well- that’s actually how I got into being a superhero. I started by using my beauty to influence high school boys into helping old women cross the street, or to influence couples into going on dates where they pick up litter.

Slowly my influence got bigger and bigger and when the Avengers picked me up, they gave me a uniform that highlights my beauty.

My outer beauty, that is. I don’t even know if they know what my inner beauty is.

“Come on, beauty,” Tony claps me on the back. “We have shit to get done.”

~

I love our Avengers dinners. I love sitting around a table with all of my friends, telling jokes and sharing stories with each other. It’s a chance to escape from the dangerous occupations that we’ve all chosen- it’s a chance to escape from Mystic Beauty and just be Y/N.

“Peter, how are things going with MJ?” Wanda asks the youngest member of the group.

“Oh, uh,” his gaze flickers to the plate in front of him and he pushes the small amount of food around with his fork. “Not good. We’re going through a bit of a rough patch right now.”

“Misgardian women can be so complex, Spider-Boy,” Thor teases.

I nudge him at the comment, giving him a stern look as he chuckles.

“What’s going on, Peter?” Natasha asks him gently.

She has a soft spot for the young boy. We all do.

“Oh, it’s, it’s nothing. I swear. I promise.”

His eyes remain on his plate and the fork scrapes loudly on the porcelain.

We all exchange looks around the table, trying to figure out if we should pry or not. Once our glances decide that we should pry, knowing that Peter needs some advice from wise adults, we exchange more glances to figure out who should be the one to ask.

“Peter…” Steve begins.

“Okay, fine, you want to know what happened?” The fork lands on the plate with a loud noise and he looks up at us with wild eyes. “She’s intimidated by how much time I spend with Y/N.”

My eyes widen, startled at the revelation. A blush begins to form on my cheeks as the other superheroes look over at me.

“She said it was just too hard for her to come to terms with the fact that I work with the most beautiful woman in the world. That she has shiny hair and the perfect body and it’s too much for MJ to come to terms with,” he explains.

It’s quiet, a tension forming in the air. I know that everyone is waiting for me to speak, react, or do anything to acknowledge Peter’s words. But truthfully, I don’t know how.

“Peter,” I speak slowly, forming the sentence in my head, “I’m- I’m sorry.”

We all wait for me to say more. To say something else, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what else I can say at this point.

“I um,” I swallow the lump in my throat, “I should be heading off to bed.”

My chair pushes out with a loud screech as I get up, hurrying down the hallway towards my room before anyone can say anything to me. I’m not sure that they would know what to say, though.

What do you say to the girl who has it all because of her looks? She can get her drinks paid for, get into any club she wants, she can get away with practically anything because of how beautiful she is.

But her beauty has a negative side, too. People treat her as just a pretty face, and that ruins her relationships and the relationships of her loved ones. She is valued only for her appearance, but she clearly wants to be known for more than that. It’s just difficult to figure out how to make that happen.

~

“Thank you again for your generous donation,” I smile sweetly at the older man, ignoring the way that his eyes drift down to the deep V-neck of the gold sequin evening gown I’m wearing.

“Anything for you, gorgeous,” he flirts.

“Well, I must get going, enjoy the rest of your evening,” I excuse myself before he can be the fourth man at this event to ask me on a date.

The charity event goes on and I feel more and more insecure in the fitted dress than I’m wearing, the thoughts from the other night echoing in my head. I can see the women looking down their noses at me and men staring at me with eyes of lust.

If I’ve ruined Peter’s relationship, it makes me wonder how many other relationships I’ve ruined. And how many I’m going to ruin today by simply existing.

“Y/N raised over $2 billion alone tonight,” Tony announces to the superheroes once all of the guests are gone.

They all begin to clap, turning towards me as I blush.

“It was for the kids,” I murmur, shifting uneasily on my feet.

“The men want her and the women want to be her. I’ve never met a person who doesn’t like you, Y/N,” Sam smiles at me.

I smile back, but my stomach twists at his words. I take a sip of my second wine glass of the night, trying to calm my nerves. Once I notice everyone sliding into conversations with each other and that they’re distracted, I move onto the balcony.

I’ve always loved to watch New York City at night. The hustle and bustle of the city never stops. There’s always flashing lights, car horns honking, and the sound of people laughing. I guess that’s why they call it the city that never sleeps.

It’s nice to be able to watch other people and not be the one to constantly be watched.

I rest my wrists on the railing, half-full glass of wine cupped between my fingers. The drop down to the street is a long one.

The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my thoughts and my head turns to see who it is. Thor stops in his tracks at the sight of me.

From the way the dim light glistens on my hair, highlighting my plump lips and long eyelashes, I already know what he’s thinking. I look beautiful.

I turn back to the view below, raising my hands to take a sip of the wine.

The feeling of fabric weighs down over my shoulders and I look down to see that Thor has given me his jacket.

“It’s a little too chilly to be out here in just a dress,” he half-explains, copying my pose.

“I guess,” I sigh.

I can feel the Asgardian glancing at me every once in a while. I don’t meet his gaze, mine remaining on the view in front of me.

Truthfully, I’m afraid to.

I’ve always felt more vulnerable around Thor than the other Avengers. While they stare at me with awe and admiration, he watches me with fascination. And it’s not fascination for my beauty, it’s more than that… it’s like fascination with my power.

It’s fascination with my ability to control others by the way that I carry myself and the charisma that I have. I secretly love missions with just Thor because of this. It makes me feel more confident and in control.

“What’s gotten you so down lately, Y/N?” He voices his question.

“It’s nothing,” I shake my head.

“It’s not nothing. You’ve had your hair down a lot lately and you only do that when you’re feeling insecure about something.”

I look over at him with a teasing smile, but my heart skips a beat at his words. “You've noticed?”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” he nudges my shoulder with his. “Now come on, tell me.”

I pause before downing the rest of my wine. Casually, I throw the glass over the edge of the balcony, followed by the gold bangles on my wrists. I pull out my earrings next and they go over as well.

Thor watches in confusion, but doesn’t stop me.

I throw my arms out dramatically. “Am I still beautiful?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Exactly,” I rest my back against the railing now. “That’s the problem.”

“Can you explain more clearly, please? I’m not sure that I understand,” he requests, but his eyebrows furrow at my behavior and words.

“No matter what I do, I’m beautiful, Thor. I’m not sweet or funny or smart or, or anything really! It’s always just beautiful. And it just fucks everything up,” I throw my hands up in the air, pacing the balcony ferociously. “I feel insecure because I’m always being praised for my looks, and I’m destroying my friends' relationships, and being pretty is all that I’m known for-”I pause, running my hands through my hair and running the perfect curls.

I bet I still look pretty, though.

“It’s just- my beauty scares me, Thor. Is this all that I was made for? Is this all that I will be known for?” I don’t realize that I’m crying until I wipe my face with the back of my hand and the black of my mascara imprints on it.

“Your beauty never ever scares me, Y/N,” he responds slowly. “And you were made to be so much more than just a pretty face. I see it. I wish you would see it too.” He reaches a hand out towards me. “I think you drank a little too much wine and it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”

I take his hand.

~

I wake up in an oversized shirt, messy ponytail, makeup off, and a raging hangover. I lay in bed, soaking up the moments of peace and quiet.

That is until I remember the events of last night. The charity event, going out on the balcony, confessing all of my worries to Thor, Thor saying that my beauty never scares him.

Before I can even think, my feet carry me throughout the Avengers tower and I find myself in front of him in the living room where he’s watching TV.

“Thor,” I breathe out, my eyes meeting his. “Did you mean it?”

“I meant every word.”

My legs move to straddle him, arms winding around his neck as his hands rest on my hips, our lips attaching in a passionate kiss.

His lips portray his every thought.

I’m more to him than just a pretty face. I am sweet. I am funny. I am smart.

I am more than Mystic Beauty.

[tempting-andromeda]

Can I please have headcannons for Sadie with fem s/o who is secretly in love with Sadie. She wants to confess her feelings but is scared of how she might react. Fem reader drops little hints here and there and eventually confesses one night at camp when everyone is asleep and they are the only ones awake. I would love to see how Sadie and fem reader deal with being secret lovers in 1899 since it wasn’t smiled upon back then and very dangerous to be lesbian/gay/bi, etc and i would love to see how they are out, open and free with the other camp members and how they are comfortably out to John Abigail Jack uncle and Charles post RDR2. And please do a little fast forward to after the events of the game when John Charles and sadie k*ll Micah and sadie is happily settled down with fem reader and their poodle dog! Just living a quiet happy wholesome life where sadie works as a bounty hunter and comes home to fem reader cooking a delicious meal sorta life. Cozy, warm vibes and a happily ever after together forever 💖💖💖💖💖 sorry if this is cheesy and cliche I just love this little idea I have in my head of Sadie happily married to her fem s/o (low key of course because it was illegal to be LGBT in the 1800s and I would love to see how Sadie and fem reader navigate their life before and after the events of the game) !! Love your blog! 🥰✨✨✨

Sadie Adler

I think it would genuinely take sadie a bit to get back into a relationship

She’s traumatized and she just lost jake and so she doesn’t even realize you were dropping hints

You two get close and there’s this lingering emotion but she purposefully ignores it

It takes until like a month or so for her to finally acknowledge it and at first she doesn’t want to be in a relationship

Super against it because she’s a mess

When you confess she somehow rejects you but returns the feelings at the same time

Takes everything at a slow pace

It’s not like internationalized homophobia or anything…homegirl had like the worst experience ever a few months back

Likes to hold your hand

It’s such a tender thing

Separating your finger and bending them slowly while you both lay on your sides facing one another while you try to sleep

A very complicated “we’re not dating but we are”

Likes standing around you just to have your company but sometimes she just looks like a body guard with her arms crossed

Kisses your finger tips

Idk I just think she wouldn’t be ready for actual kisses so she works her way up

Everyone knows you two are somewhat a thing because even if you both wanted to hide it Sadie will practically growl at anyone who stares too long

Likes to go off with you and doesn’t tell you what you’re doing

Give you a quick “come on” and doesn’t answer any questions

Thinks anything can be a surprise if she wanted to to be

She wants to go to the gunsmith to get a new rifle? She’s gonna take you and act like she has the most romantic date planned

After the events of rdr2 she’s healed a lot more

She wasn’t on her own for like…8 years so she’s definitely grown

More into physical touch

Loves coming behind you and grabbing your waist while she nuzzles into your neck and kisses it

She’s a cheeky bastard

How can she do anything wrong she’s just a girl with a gun

Tells you all about her bounties and sometimes if you get her too into it she’ll recreate some moments

Jumping up out of bed to act out slashing a guys neck and getting blood on her

She’s so dramatic and she’s giving you a lopsided grin

Picked the poodle up as an apology for getting stabbed when she hunted down Micah with John

She saw how Abigail reacted with John and she didn’t want to be in the dog house

Always insists a meal needs more seasoning no matter how much you add

It either needs more salt or pepper

She’s real hesitant about pda and to other people y’all have an elaborate story about how both of your husbands died and you’re widowers together

Just besties

She has horrible jealousy isssues

She’s not worried you’d cheat

She just possessive

Tried to invite John and Abigail over for dinner frequently but after the first time she couldn’t do it again

Had to protect her peace

And she got tired of everyone mid way and didn’t know how to tell anyone she just wanted to nap with her wife

Whenever y’all do hang out with the marstons she somehow gets kicked out of the wife circle and is forced to Interact with John

She has fun but John is just so much to deal with

She’s absolutely shit at cooking

She can cook meat but anything else?

She complains if you try to get her to cook

If you do make her cook or you can’t she just goes into town and buys something that’s easy or already made

Likes to join you in the kitchen when you cook though

She’ll stand behind you with her hands on your hips telling you to cut the potatoes bigger or smaller

Whenever it’s just you two or any of your friends she loves to call you her wife

Smiles all goofy and everything

[bropunzeling]

12, 18, 19 for the writer's meme? 😌

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

(1) that i would know the right title right away every time instead of staring down the ao3 posting form (2) that the things i think of when falling asleep would automatically show up in my notes app so i don't forget them (3) that the editing would just happen with no effort from me whatsoever

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

here is a bit from contact high:

In the night, they’ve shifted. Leon is pressed along Matthew’s side, one arm curled over Matthew’s stomach. His chin rests in the divot between Matthew’s shoulder and neck. With every deep, slow breath Matthew takes, Leon can feel his chest rise and fall under his hand. The barest amount of light filters through the gap in the curtains, catching on their silhouettes.

It had been like this in March. Lying together in Matthew’s bed as the clock ticked past Leon’s curfew, even though he knew he should head back to the hotel. Their last game of the regular season looming as tomorrow came closer and closer. They hadn’t even flipped on a light switch, had fumbled through kissing and fucking all in the dark. It didn’t matter. Leon had still known Matthew’s body, what Matthew wanted, and Matthew had known him.

It was dark, and Leon was seconds away from falling asleep in Matthew’s bed the way he had never let himself before, when Matthew had broken the silence. Had said, in a voice scratchy with sleep, “It’ll be different, next year.”

Leon froze in place, suddenly wide awake. Hadn’t trusted himself to speak, to do anything more than make a noise.

Matthew heard his unspoken question. Said, again in that soft, rough voice, “I’ve been thinking about leaving Calgary.” A long pause as Leon lay there, perfectly still. “I don’t know. I’m just ready for a change, you know?” A sigh. “It’s going to feel really fucking good. Leaving all this shit behind.” And then, finally: “Don’t tell anyone, yeah?”

Leon had nodded. Lay there for five long seconds, but couldn’t get warm. Gave up, told Matthew he’d be heading back to the hotel, waved off the offer of a ride.

when i first started this fic, i was simply like wow, sex pollen sounds fun for them! i love making matthew and leon have dubious sex! and then maybe 2k in i went for a walk and was like you know what this needs. this needs leon feeling deeply, deeply abandoned by the trade and both of them being fucked up about it. and the whole tenor of the fic changed! i started dropping in more hints about previous feelings, about perceived unevenness in their relationship. but by the time i finished the horny shit i had to settle on what actually happened, and that was when i worked on this little flashback segment. and it took SO long to figure out exactly what matthew would've said that could hit the exact right note of matthew's feelings about calgary and how leon could perceive that as matthew's feelings about him (because they haven't talked about anything they're doing!) and how it could lead to this rupture between them that neither of them really know how to bridge. that is, until the plant life of florida gets involved.

also i really like the imagery in this sequence! the use of lighting and shadow, how the last time they were together they didn't even need to look at each other. i find the kind of familiarity you can have, to be able to know each others bodies so well that you don't even need the lights on, to be really compelling. and, of course, leon almost staying the night the last time, before the trade, and then deciding in this moment that he is going to stay the night even if it hurts :)

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

i started writing as a little tween obsessed with x-men comics and bad shounen manga and didn't know how to stop! i've always told a lot of stories and been a voracious reader and as soon as i had regular access to a semi-private way to get on the internet i found ff.net and had to read more stories, and then learned i could write those stories. the amount i write has ebbed and flowed a lot, including a long, long down stretch in my late twenties, but i've been really happy coming back to writing in the past two years. i forgot how much i really loved it and it's been so fun stretching myself and figuring out how to sustain a story arc and set up subplots and foreshadowing and all that jazz! my hopes for this year are to keep going, but at a pace that is sustainable for me, and that is coming from a place of joy and excitement. and to FINALLY write a fucking slow burn.

[joaneunknown]

Ten things I would have liked to know about writing a thriller-suspense book before starting my first one (now that I almost finished it)

"Thriller" definition

A thriller is a type of mystery with a few key differences. As its name suggests, thrillers tend to be action-packed and fast-paced with moments full of tension, anxiety, and fear. Without fail, they are plot-driven stories.

Hello, unknowners and new readers to another episode of #TalkingUnknown! Because last week was finals week, I had made the responsible decision to not post and focus on studying. Fortunately, now that is all over, I am here ready to share ten tips from the thousands of tips I wished I knew before writing my very first thriller, now that I am halfway through its last and final chapter. I would also like to mention that my thriller is bloody and explicit and my tips are somehow centered around my way of writing. Anyway, now that we are done with my endless unnecessary side notes, let's get started!

1. Killing characters in excess does nothing but bore the reader

Now, depending on your storyline, I consider that killing piles of characters does not help your book. The only exception would be having the kind of storyline where each character dies from an unknown killer and, yes, then it would help your book.

2. Going over the limit is necessary

I think that writing a thriller consists of crossing over the limit to have a spectacular thriller. I, personally, have made myself horror a few times while writing my 400-page thriller. I had times when I couldn't touch my keyboard from how frightened and disgusted I was. I had nights when I couldn't sleep from how graphic or descriptive were some of the paragraphs I had written.

But, overall, I believe that is what a reader wants or, at least, that is what I want from a thriller book. I want to be frightened, I want to be scared for the characters' destiny and I stand by the fact that a great thriller MUST make the reader think that the characters have no way out of an impossible situation

3. It will take a long time to finish it

After more than a year, I am still writing my thriller. Thankfully, I am halfway done with the last and final chapter of it even if I had planned to finish it by April 2022. The only problem is that your view of the thriller changes, especially when you have a complex storyline.

4. You will have to fill each chapter with action

Thrillers are packed with action and as a writer, you have to maintain that action and suspense throughout each chapter, which can become a challenge over time. I, for one, have always tried to create that action and suspense by dropping hints, rhetorical questions, or any other kind of event that would spark a fire.

5. You will have to read a lot of thrillers before and during the process of writing one

As always, reading remains the writers' first tool to success. Reading in the genre you are writing your book in inspires you more than you could imagine. The more you read in suspense, the more suspenseful your writing will be. There are a lot of things to learn from reading thrillers while writing one, from setting the scene to creating a crazy plot twist that will leave your readers' mouths wide opened

6. Your outline should be written before starting to write your book

Thrillers, from my experience, are quite complex and as I stated before, you should have action in each chapter and each chapter should get the readers closer with one step to the ending. All of that means you need to know exactly what each chapter contains before begining your first draft. Now, there is a good possibility not to have your path already set, so I suggest you at least have the destination set. If you have your destination, the rest of the road will become clearer.

7. Creativity is not enough to finish a thriller

You may be the most creative person but that doesn't mean it is enough for begining a thriller. You need to be a little bit crazy and psychotic to write a book in this genre, especially if your idea is bloody. Of course, by crazy or psychotic I don't mean that you should be a serial killer, what I actually mean is that you need to think crazy and cross over your mental barrier. I have gone through that and I do have to admit that after one very bloody writing session, I did think I was a bit crazy, which leads me to my next tip

8. Your writing can affect the way you look at yourself

If there is one thing I would tell myself before starting BOTB (my almost finished thriller), I would heavily mention that what you put on paper may affect the way you look at yourself. I am the kind of writer who loves writing very graphic and heavy scenes that are just two feet behind the "too much to handle" barrier (for me at least), and that itself created an identity crisis for me. I had moments where I couldn't recognize my own writing and ultimately myself because of the words I would lay on paper.

After going through a few of these kinds of episodes, I concluded that some of the things that I wrote did change my view on the person I was for a bit mostly because I couldn't set apart the world on paper from the real world. If there are any writers reading this, I am here to tell you that writing remains on the paper at all times and that you shouldn't take to heart what you wrote. After all, your job is to create fictional worlds, write as if you are living in them, and then go back to the real world.

9. You will come across a lot of challenges

I won't lie when I say that writing a thriller takes more patience and persistence than creativity, skill, or magic. When you have a complex or a twisted structure ahead of you, there is no way you will not come across challenges, maybe only if you have written ten thrillers before or are just an amazing writer with a God-given talent that no one has. But, because I haven't written ten thrillers before this one and because I don't see my talent as a God-given one, I did run into some challenges that I ultimately got passed by.

Most of them took place when I got lost on the path to the final chapter. There were a few moments where I didn't know what should have come next and that itself turned into a challenge. Now that I am here, halfway through my thriller's very final chapter, I would tell anyone who is stuck to not give up and somehow spark a light to see the path towards the final end of the story you have created. You have to be persistent and see each challenge as an opportunity to learn and improve your writing.

10. You will need to grab your readers by the throat (not literally, of course)

If there is one thing I would beg my younger self to do before starting our thriller was to start off with a bang. The introduction I had written more than a year ago on the thriller that I will very soon finish is probably the worst introduction I have ever read in my entire life because of how boring and melodramatic it is. My advice is to start off your thriller in a dynamic way. Someone was killed, someone just killed somebody, or just something that catches the readers' attention and that is far from making them not continue your thriller.

Now, there is no shame in admitting that your introduction is boring, the real shame is publishing it boring. After all, being a writer does involve editing and I encourage any writer who thinks that their begining/introduction is just slacking in boredom to rewrite it. You can do that while still writing the book or after you have finished it because then you know your final destination.

This was all for today and hopefully, my tips are going to help you in your writing process. Like always, there are far more tips I would have liked to know and that I still haven't discovered. If you liked this post, don't forget to like, comment and share, and follow me for

#TalkingUnknown, my weekly series where I share tips and talk about different aspects of writing. See ya next week with another unknown post

[dashawfrostart]

This... Month? In "Time & Again" #20: Die Herausforderungen des Schreibens 📚 - und mehr

Here, I thought I'm finally coming back with some truly awesome news quite shortly - but alas, it turns out it's been roughly a month. Sounds like the frequency of my overly giant posts is rigorously dropping... But I intend to let it simply flow, following its own pace, so I write whenever. I have probably already mentioned that writing doesn't always go buttery smooth for me (and I'm pretty sure I said that somewhere before; it's not just the title of this post signifies that). If the posts do not form in my head - then I simply don't write, and I don't force the process either. The spark is very, very important when creating.

But enough of digression, let's get straight to the business! First things first!!! And the news is truly fab!!!

Chapters 1, 2 and 3.1. of "Time & Again" now exist in the physical world!!! 🥳🥂

This is so cool, I cannot contain myself!!! 🤪 This is a very odd and somewhat awkward feeling, to hold your own book in your hands. Back in the day, I started working on it as an exclusively digital release - and yet, I designed it (just in case!) as a book almost right away, with the covers, inner artworks, and the proper page count that was suitable for physical printing, if need be, although without the bleed areas.

Well, turned out the "if need be" situation happened in the end. And after all, it's just very nice to have a physical copy of your own work on hand... Well, because I'm an old-school person and I love paper books. Once the entire story is done, I will definitely prepare and order a hardcover copy just for myself. And if the local (and beyond local) readers so desire, I'll print some for them, too. But that is just a potential plan for the future consideration 😁 Right now, the succulently depressing Chapter 6 is waiting for me.

Preparing it for the physical printing was a bit of a struggle - the topic I already mentioned in one of the previous posts. I have spent a month working on all of that, plus refining some little things and adding "Notes, Commentaries & Hints" section to each one of the chapters. Ordering prints, unfortunately, was also a struggle, in an odd way.

But I succeeded. And now I am very happy.

Please note that I also added a QR code that leads to the landing page with all my art links and socials for everybody to explore. That was also yet another one little thing I've worked hard on for a while last month. It even has a link to my Doomworld profile 😁 *a happy smiling and spinning cacodemon smiley should go here*

Now, I am ready for yet another one juicy announcement on today's agenda:

The script for Chapter 6 is finally done!!! Yaaaaaay!!!11!!1!1!!! 🥳🥂

Revisiting the fruits of my labour yesterday, I can say I did good. It made me happy. And that's saying something. Chapter 6 is going to be very, very wordy (thank you Lothar for thinking non-stop). 19 pages with approximately 12500 words sure will make a big impression on some readers, I'm certain... However, a large part of that whooping page number is actually commentary only. But there's still a little more reading than in any average previous chapter. Now, off it goes directly to my editor-in-chef for the proofread. Which means that incredibly soon I will finally be able to start working on the page templates for the actual release. Excited. Chapter 6 is going to be highly experimental and daring. ... and unbearably dark, too. Darker than Chapter 5.

Returning back to our aforementioned topic of the writings, as well as the ultimate torments and tortures of the process, I must share something that you might find interesting to clarify the situation - or at least entertaining to some extent. Yet again: writing does not always go smooth for me. In the previous post I have shared my fears and concerns in regard to Chapter 6 in general, particularly the writing. Well, here's the full story for a disclosure: back in the day, approximately around the time I created Lothar (and shortly Jeanny), sometime in 2015, I attempted to write a large novel about the catpeople named Freia and Fjolvarr. That story has never been finished, and the problem with it happened to be, as I ponder now, the lack of self-organization of the author. Meaning, I could write separate notes for the story in multiple notebooks, because a lot of different ideas and thoughts would swirl in my imagination, so, like fools, I would try to save them all. Which was a good tactic - and I still think it is!.. The real problem, however, emerges from the depths of creative process later on, when it's time to stitch everything together into a logical and consecutive narration. I ended up with a lot of parts that were very difficult to tie together. Usually, when I used to write my text-only stories, I went with the flow and let the logic of the characters' conversations circulate naturally - and in most cases, it yielded great result. But with the things written split in parts right from the start, finding the right chain link to link them all together into a naturally flowing conversation was... a nightmare to say the least. Perhaps I was not persistent enough, or maybe the amount of work was a little too much, for that story was supposed to be, well, at least 200 pages in total (I approximate), therefore there as a lot of unrefined material to work with. As for "Time & Again", I definitely didn't want it to die in a swamp of creation that went awry. "Time & Again" bears ENORMOUS importance to me. I could not simply let it disappear into nothingness, because that would've been easily the most disappointing thing in my life. By the time I sat down to get to finishing up and polishing the script in July, there were indeed parts of the dialogues and Lothar's delirious monologues that required connection links. I cannot really say that I dreaded working on it. But I had fear that it might end up being as unfinished as the aforementioned catpeople story. This time I was aware of the weaknesses and failings of my previous, almost 10-year-old outdated approach. So I was ready to embrace a potentially tremendous amount of works that was waiting for me.

And I did really good this time!

Have I ever told you that narratology interest me very much? Narratology classes were something I've never taken. The same with psycholinguistics and the its lesser known, more targeted subdivision called ethnopsycholinguistics. And now I feel like I have missed out on INCREDIBLY MUCH. For a language nerd such as myself, it's shameful. But nothing's impossible (am I, like, in the mood for Depeche Mode quotes today or what?..), and there are lots of books available on the above mentioned topics, so I am not sad one bit. I love sciences 🤓 And I am always up for self-education (basically almost everything I've learnt very willingly was thanks to self-education alone).

I thought I wanted to mention some other fun topic, but I no longer remember what it was. That's alright; chances are by the time I decide to return to make another post, it will shape itself a tad better anyway. So I'll save my currently improperly shaped thought for later.

See you soon! 👋 I really gotta pick up the slack and start posting more frequently 😅

[dreamerstreamer]

Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up. 

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.” 

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.” 

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific. 

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice. 

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze. 

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.” 

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part I

Ahh I can’t believe it’s finally done! After a year of working on this beast, it’s finally ready for me to share. This is something I started way back last summer, and I decided to finish it as my project for this year’s @geraskierbigbang. It will be ten parts in total, and I will post one part per day until it is complete! There are several art pieces that were created by the wonderful @herostag​ and Miranda.draws for this story, which I will link when the appropriate section is posted. For a summary and further links, please see the masterpost.

Next | Ao3 | Masterpost

“Alright,” Geralt said. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Yennefer looked up at him with bright eyes, curious and already mirthful. She was sitting across from him in his quarters, reading through a tome she’d found in Kaer Morhen’s disheveled library. Geralt had just come from a bath after hours spent training Ciri in the yard, and the room was filled with the warm evening light, supplemented by the fire crackling in the hearth. Yennefer had insisted on carting dozens of tapestries and drapes to hang around the drafty keep, and the room was nearly stuffy with their bulk keeping the heat in.

Yennefer gave him an amused smirk. “I will make no such promises before I even know what you’re going to say.” The gentle teasing brought a fond smile to Geralt’s face. After the events of the mountain all those years ago, things had been understandably tense. Yennefer had been reluctant to join them when she had finally met up with Geralt after Sodden, but had eventually agreed to seek refuge in the witchers’ keep and teach Ciri to control her magic. Once she’d met the girl it had all been a wash; it was clear as soon as their eyes met across the room that Yennefer was as much a part of Ciri’s destiny as Geralt was.

Geralt had expected that to either mend the rift between them enough for things to go back to the way things were, or make things even more awkward. Instead, they found themselves in a sort of in-between. Over the years his affection for Yennefer had only grown, but he found himself looking to her more and more as a friend—maybe his best friend. After Jaskier, of course.

Speaking of. “I was thinking about Jaskier.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes obviously. “As you are so frequently wont to do. The thaw will come soon enough, dear, and you can run off in search of your bard.”

Geralt felt his ears grow warm. Witchers couldn’t blush, not truly, but he still felt the tingle of it as he fidgeted with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, absently tracing a finger against the grain of the wooden table. There were two goblets of wine sitting between them, but so far neither of them had begun to drink. “Do you know how many winters it’s been since I found Ciri?”

If she was confused by the odd turn in subject matter, Yennefer didn’t show it. Instead she looked thoughtful. “Two, perhaps three? You know I don’t follow the seasons with diligence.”

“Neither do I,” Geralt agreed. “I was thinking the same though, two or three years since the fall of Cintra. Which means Jaskier is…” He paused, trying to do the math. “He was a few years past forty, during the dragon hunt, I think. He must be closer to fifty now than not.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him. “I recall mentioning something about his crows feet. What of it? Humans age. Are you only just discovering this?”

Geralt forced himself not to grumble. In a way, he was only discovering it. He’d known humans across the years, of course, and knew that many that he’d once been acquainted with were no longer alive or were in their twilight years. For decades Geralt had wandered through the world, changing no more than a ghost would, touching the lives of regular mortals for a brief instance, maybe a few times if they were particularly unlucky. No one had stayed by his side, dedicated themselves to a relationship with him, the way that the bard had. The amount of devotion that Jaskier showed to him had made Geralt antsy, in earlier years, and then confused and angry by turn. He had hated the idea of someone needing him, had hated needing someone in return. The way his chest felt heavy when he and Jaskier parted ways had left him furious with himself and the bard.

And then Ciri came into his life, and everything had changed so quickly.

With Ciri, it didn’t matter whether Geralt felt like he should care for her, or if he wanted to. He needed to. Without him, the girl would die, or be kidnapped by Nilfgaard for who knows what purpose. He had to feed her, and clothe her, and teach her, and he had to love her for her to thrive.

She made it very easy. It was only afterwards that he realized how much of an idiot he’d been to Jaskier, and the thought of how he’d treated the bard over the years had plagued him. It had been months before he could find him to apologize, but Jaskier forgave him almost immediately—which Geralt found both relieving and infuriating at the same time. This was the first winter they’d spent apart since. Geralt left the keep more rarely now, heading out on the Path only when the months grew truly warm and returning at the first hint of falling leaves. Ciri was safe on her own, he knew, but he missed her when he was away. And he could admit now that one of the forces driving him back into the world over the last few years had been the itching desire to find Jaskier again and settle the yearning in his chest for another year. He was less inclined to venture forth when his bard, his daughter, Yennefer and his brothers were all in one place.

This winter Jaskier had begged off, saying that he had “work in the south,” which could mean anything from spending a decadent winter in the court of some noble or sludging through the front lines as a Redanian spy. Geralt had learned not to pry too deeply into Jaskier’s business when he wasn’t around. It was often either too explicit for him to stomach or too confidential for Jaskier to share freely.

It worried him, being away from the bard for so long. He could get hurt, or captured by Nilfgaard, or worse. But what really terrified Geralt was the idea that he would find Jaskier in a tavern along the Path and realize that the bard had grown old, to find silver in his hair and wrinkles beside his eyes. “He’s getting too old,” Geralt said to Yennefer, who looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“You must have known when you started travelling with him that he would eventually leave you,” Yennefer said, not unkindly. “Humans are so short lived.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice about becoming his muse,” Geralt said with a huff. Despite his improved relationship with Jaskier over the past few years, he still found it difficult to admit that he had always been more than willing to let the bard tag along. If he’d wanted to travel alone, he would have. But he never had. “I just didn’t realize…”

“It always comes sooner than you think it will,” Yennefer sighed. She set her book aside and picked up her goblet of wine, turning to look out the large window their table sat in front of. It faced west out of the keep wall, towards the mountains and the forest beyond. The sun had set below the craggy peaks, throwing the snow covered valley below into darkness. Geralt could just make out the ruins of the old tower, its stones dark against the white landscape. “You can’t cure his mortality, Geralt.”

“We did.”

The look that Yennefer gave him was sharp, almost angry. The firelight in the room turned her violet eyes darker, like mulberry wine. “At great cost,” she snapped. “I can’t imagine you would put him through the Trials.”

A stab of panic shot through his gut at the thought. “No. Of course not. He wouldn’t survive it anyways. Only children stand a chance at all.”

Yennefer nodded, apparently satisfied that Geralt hadn’t completely lost his mind. “The boy hasn’t got an ounce of Chaos in him, in spite of his rather chaotic nature, so I highly doubt they’ll accept him as a late trainee at Ban Ard.”

“There must be other ways,” Geralt said, feeling petulant. “Less conventional.”

“I cannot believe we are actually discussing this,” Yennefer said, rising to her feet. She picked up her book from the table as well as her glass. “There is no way to achieve immortality, especially not without sacrifice. You know that, Geralt. Drop this foolish line of thought.”

Geralt rose after her, reaching out to catch her retreating wrist. A grasp loose enough that she could break it, if she wanted, but Yennefer paused. “Please, Yen. Just… look into it for me? I can’t—the thought of—” He cut himself off, dropping his hand away from her arm. The look she gave him was more pitying than he would have liked.

“I’ll do some research, but nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up, Geralt. There’s a reason there are so few of us,” she said. Her face softened slightly, as much as it ever did. Despite Ciri, Yennefer was still made of more glass and fire than anything else. “I know you love him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. I promise, I will do my best.”

Geralt nodded wordlessly as she left and wondered if Jaskier's eyes would be as bright next time he saw him.

*

For weeks Yennefer said nothing about his request, and Geralt refocused on spending time with Ciri and preparing to depart for the spring. Lambert and Eskel had already left a month before, as soon as the road down the mountain began to thaw, but Geralt had hung back. The roof needed repairs, a difficult job to do in the midst of winter, and it was a hard task to leave for Vesemir alone. It was always like this, now—him looking for odd jobs to keep him at Kaer Morhen, with Ciri, making excuses until Jaskier’s jitteriness or Vesemir’s raised eyebrows forced them on the road again. Some of that was mitigated this season by the silence he heard when he found himself listening for the sounds of lute strings strumming gently in the background, and Geralt’s increasing anxiety about Jaskier’s wellbeing. Even so, it was hard to leave Ciri behind.

The girl was progressing rapidly as she entered her teen years, the chubbiness of her youth morphing into lean if awkward muscle as she continued to work on her swordsmanship. When Geralt and his brothers weren’t pushing her through drills, she was studying monsters and alchemy with Vesemir, or practicing her magic with Yen. She never seemed to tire, eagerly absorbing any lessons passed on to her and desperate to prove her worth. The only person she seemed to let her guard down around was Geralt, who found himself often goading her into mock wrestling matches (which he refused to throw on principle) and humoring her when she became restless and wanted to explore beyond the keep. Kaer Morhen was dangerous in the winter, but as spring approached and the deep snows on the surrounding mountains began to thaw, the duo spent more and more time trekking through old ruins and sleeping beneath the stars.

He could put off his journey south no longer.

“I’m going to be fine, Geralt,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. He wondered if he’d been this petulant as a teenager. Certainly Lambert had. “I can take care of myself, and Yen will be with me.”

Geralt tapped her wooden training sword with his own, indicating that she should prepare to go again. When he was a boy he’d trained against the other foundlings, stumbling around like pups through drills and sparring matches. Ciri trained against full witchers, and only Eskel ever faked a misstep here or there to allow her to get in a good hit. When she won a fight for the first time, it would be on her own merit.

The girl raised her sword into a decent fighting stance, and Geralt moved to correct her footwork. Her sword work was exceptional above the belt, but she consistently forgot her stances, throwing herself off balance. They’d begun putting her on the pendulums to force her to focus, dancing between posts to attack the dummies. Geralt had spent many a night rubbing salve into her bruised shoulders, gained from taking fall after fall from the low poles. No one forced her, but if there was one thing Ciri hated, it was admitting to weakness in herself. “Sword up,” Geralt said, and launched into his attack.

He stayed on the offense, forcing her to practice the defensive drills they’d started going over recently. “I know you’ll be fine,” he said, continuing their conversation. His breathing was relaxed, almost meditative through the slow exchange of blows. “Just seems cruel to leave you with only the old man and Yennefer for company.”

Ciri giggled despite herself, and Geralt found himself grinning back before he smacked her lightly in the ribs with the training sword. She swore—Lambert, Geralt thought with chagrin—and danced back a few paces. “Gotta focus,” he said, still smirking at her.

She poked her tongue out at him childishly and reposted off of one of his blocked attacks. He easily swayed out of the way, but the movement was fluid and smooth, which meant someday it would be fast, faster than he could dodge. He gave an encouraging nod.

They continued to spar for another half an hour or so before breaking, heading to the well to fill their water pouches. Geralt sat on the short ring of stones and Ciri slumped on the ground beside him, leaning against his leg. The simple trust and familiarity she exhibited around him still took him by surprise, sometimes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, rubbing a hand over the top of her head. Her hair was almost as white as his.

She sighed, wiping dripping water from her chin as she tossed her water pouch down. “I figured,” she said. “Say hello to Jaskier for me, when you find him? I missed his songs this time.”

Geralt’s caress turned into a playful ruffle. “I will. Any requests for books?”

“Ones about Elves,” she said immediately, “and Skelligan alchemy. It’s different from ours, did you know? The Druids—”

Geralt chuckled. “I know. You’ve said half a dozen times. No fairytales this time?”

The girl hummed, reminding him for a brief and touching moment of himself. “Just bring Jaskier back. He tells about your adventures so much better than you do.”

“He’s certainly made a career out of it,” Geralt grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’ll do my best. You know how he is.”

“You missed him too,” she said, hitting his knee with one closed fist. “I know you did. You get all…Well, more grumbly and mopey than usual, when he’s not around.” She wrinkled her nose up at him in exaggerated disgust. “It’s gross. But I do want you to be happy.”

Geralt knocked back against her gently with his knee, swallowing around the feelings that rose in his throat. “You just think I’m a boring old man who won’t help you put toads in Eskel’s bed. But you never even ask. I’m the expert, not Jaskier.”

Ciri laughed, bright and crisp in the morning air, and Geralt felt warm despite the fading winter chill. Tomorrow he would leave, and he would find Jaskier, and next winter he would tell Jaskier that he had to stay at Kaer Morhen. For Ciri, if nothing else. And if it was more for Geralt’s sake than anything, well, no one had to know.

*

Yennefer found him before he left, saddling Roach in the stables.

“Go to Triss,” she said by way of a greeting. Geralt knew what she meant by the gravity in her tone and the tension sitting in the corners of her mouth. “Ask after Ida. I don’t know where she is or if she’ll speak with you, but a Sage is the only one that might be able to give you anything.”

Geralt reached out to grasp her hand firmly in his own. “Thank you, Yen,” he said honestly.

The sorceress sniffed. “Well, you owe me one, I suppose. I hope you find what you're looking for. But be careful.”

“I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way,” he promised. “I swear it.”

“Good.” She gave him a slight smile before leaning in to brush a kiss over his rough cheek. The simple touch warmed him from inside out. “Say hello to the bard for me. Tell him I heard about that disastrous competition in Vizima. Ought to have him stewing for a good long while.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him your love as always.”

“Goodbye, Geralt,” she said, patting his arm lightly. “Be safe. You know how to reach me, if you have need.”

“I do,” he said. “I will. Take care of Ciri.”

“It’s more the other way around, I’m afraid,” she said with a soft smile, and Geralt understood exactly what she meant. Ciri had saved them both, in more ways than one. Every time he left her was more painful than the last. Someday, he knew, they might travel the Path together, a witcher, a sorceress and their daughter. Maybe even a bard, if he was extremely lucky.

Geralt hoped he would be.

[outerbanks-fandom]

Too Much - JJ Maybank

Description: there's comes a time when people want to much from you and you can’t handle it. 

Warnings: slight sexual content, convincing reader to do things she didn’t really wanna do, sad, slight description of reader that might not apply to you, this is a female reader x JJ I’m so sorry if this doesn’t apply to you. 

Word count: 1,039

Edited?: spelling yes idk about the rest so technically no

Part 1

Pulling into the chateau while John B and Sarah was presumed dead was the worst part of my day. Not only because they weren’t there but because I had to be faced with whatever mess of JJ I had to clean up today. I would never complain about it though because I knew he was hurting and I'd do anything to help him heal. 

He was here alone most nights when I worked. During the day Pope and Kiera kept him company, but nights were always worse for him anyways. The couple hours he was by himself he would let his thoughts take over. With no distraction he drank and smoked the pain away. Which caused one of two things to happen when you finally show up, he either yells at me for shit I didn’t do or he’d fuck me for his own personal pleasure. I just let him though, I loved John B also but John B was JJ’s best friend. They were the brothers to each other. 

So whatever JJ needed to do to make himself feel better I wasn’t gonna stop him from doing that. But tonight, tonight I couldn’t handle his loud screams at me or the bruising grip he’d have on me. I just needed my JJ back, I needed a good hug  and I know I won’t be getting that. Especially since I saw the empty beer bottles on the porch steps. Just to stall the inevitable I cleaned up the bottles and sat on one of the chairs outside. I just needed a minute to mentally prepare myself. 

I sighed before heading into the chateau. The door slamming behind me is what broke JJ’s gaze. He was standing in the kitchen, beer in hand just staring. A seductive smirk was on his lips, “hey baby, I haven’t seen your sexy ass all day.” 

“Hey J, works been crazy, but I'm here now” I very clearly had an exhausted frown on my face, but JJ could care less. He made his way to me and placed his hands on my waist. I know what tonight holds but I don’t know how to tell him no. “J, come on let’s go lay down or something” he didn’t let up though. :Come on baby, I really miss this pretty mouth” one hand reached for my face as his thumb rubbed my bottom lip. “JJ, come on we can just hang out or something. Your drunk” the anger rose in JJ’s demeanor but I can tell he’s still trying to convince me. 

“Y/n come on, just 10 minutes tops. I really need you” I gave in and nodded. All i have to do is give him head. Then maybe we can just go to bed. He’s trying to distract himself I know that. It’s the least I can do for him. I tried convincing myself that this was okay and that I wanted to do this but I just wanted to cuddle him for once. 

He kissed me quickly and I dropped to my knees. Okay Y/n just get this over with he’ll pass out, and you can sleep\on his chest again and pretend he wanted you in his arms. I hesitantly undid his shorts and pulled his underwear down with them. His hands went to my hair and directed my head onto him. As he directed my head up and down on him, the realization hit me. This is all I am to him, he’s using me as a distraction instead of something to help heal him. Tears ran down my face and I couldn’t tell if it was because he picked up his pace and was choking me or if the fact this is all I am to him. 

He groaned when I hummed around him hoping this will end faster. After a while though it was too much to handle, with my emotions going crazy I just needed a second. I pushed back on his thighs but he didn’t let up. So I pulled my head out of his grip as hard as I could and he finally caught the hint. “Y/n what the fu-” I didn’t stick around for his scream. “Sorry J, I can’t do this. I’m trying to be here for you and what you need, but I can’t be that tonight.” He was pulling up his pants now. “Before you speak I'm gonna say what I gotta say, I love you J, and I know that life sucks right now and I know that there's nothing I can do to bring John B back but that doesn't mean you can use me. I just wanted a hug from my boyfriend. I needed you tonight and you pushed me aside for your personal pleasure. I wanted to be here for you no matter what but I feel used and really gross right now so I’m gonna head home. I’ll have Pope check up on you.” 

-

It’s been a couple days since I talked to JJ but I've been checking up on him through Pope. School actually starts today and I know I have first hour with him, I'm not sure if I'm ready to see him. I might be overreacting but I really felt trapped. I know JJ and he wouldn’t intently hurt me, but drunk, high and broken JJ was a different story. 

He’s tried calling me and even came banging on my window but my whole body wouldn’t give. It was like I was paralyzed as he hit my window repeatedly and even a few sobs. It broke me to listen to him cry, but I couldn’t find it in me to fix him anymore. At least for right now. 

I made myself look like I was okay, full face of makeup, my clothes consisting of a white pleated skirt, an open Hawaiian shirt with a black body suit under it, and black & white adidas superstars. My hair was in its naturally curly state with some product in it to define my curls more. 

Taking one final look in the mirror I took a picture and posted it on my story ‘last first day...<3′ 

It’s time to face JJ Maybank and the pogues minus 2...

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Hey, so your post about the Lawsuit Arc 2.0 came up on my dash randomly and your comment about Bobby struggling more and more got me thinking about the end of Season 5. Because everyone is very focussed (understandably) on a Buck breakdown... but I'm seriously wondering about a Bobby breakdown also. Now, apologies if I'm late to the party, but in May Day I found it interesting that they used the same song from Eddie Begins. Do you have any thoughts on this?

Hey Nonnie

I love when a random post comes up!! I am very much on the Bobby is going to breakdown train, but I'm beginning to wonder if it might be a bit further down the line than we've been expecting - I'm thinking we might be getting it in 6b rather than in 6a now. reason being that they are definitely moving pieces into place for it, but Buck and Hen breakdowns seem to be the focus of 6a (with a side of a Chim one incoming but in a less loud way) and all the stuff going on with Bobby (and Athena) is very much giving me the vibes of things crumbling more slowly.

I'm actually excited to see how it plays out because I think its got the potential to be a really interesting exploration of Bobbys character if we get to see it play out over a longer period than we've had before. We've obviously had lots of background about Bobby and his ongoing battle with addiction, but we've not really spent a lot of time looking at how hard that battle is to keep fighting and the toll it can take on your mental health - especially with Bobby in a 'happy' place - because one of the things with addiction is not trusting happiness - always being on edge or on guard for the other shoe to drop. We've been seeing so many hints towards it and I can't wait to see where his snapping point is.

My money is on us getting an arc similar to Eddies in season 5 in terms of timings for Bobbys breakdown and I'm interested to see how Athena handles it as well - because she is also carrying a fair amount of trauma that she hasn't really dealt with and the fact they are taking her back to her childhood in 6x03 has me very 👀👀👀.

As for the use of the same song, I actually think its repeat use was more about Eddie and his return to his family - the 118 - if you watch the scenes in 3x15 and 5x16 when the song is played, you will see similarities in the way they show Eddie at the centre and his connection with his family or the firefam. Its that idea of 'I'm always going to fight to come home to my family' something we had already see Eddie try to do earlier in 5b - before he was ready followed by Linda saying 'god has spoken' when it is clear where Eddie truly belongs - and when he is in a place to actually make that return to his family a reality - in the same way he was able to get back to his family in 3x15.

Hopefully this makes sense Nonnie 😬 it was a fun thing to contemplate - especially with 6x03 coming up tonight and the potential this episode has for setting up lots of stories for the rest of the season!

[mca-attack21]

Damsel in Distress part I

This is a two part Arthur Pendragon x Reader based on the season two episode four of the show. Enjoy! Also you can find more of my writing here: Masterlist

Merlin woke up to a feeling of foreboding. There was something in the air that made his stomach turn with dread. As he prepared to go wake his clotpole of a master, he tried to push this feeling out of the forefront of his mind. But even as he made it down to the kitchen there was this sense of apprehension in the air. He hoped that he would run into you somewhere in the halls and that you would be able to set his mind at ease. He however was not so fortunate.

Instead, he trudged onward, setting Arthur’s food down and opening his curtains before declaring a half-hearted, “Rise and Shine” before quickly gathering some of his clothes to be washed. Arthur didn’t even have time to come up with a jest before Merlin was out of the door. Merlin busied himself, quickly polishing Arthur’s armor and completing other daily chores. He mentally prepared himself to deal with the prince as returned to his door.

“Ah, there you are, I was beginning to think you were avoiding your duties. And what’s this?” he asked, watching as Merlin laid everything out, “You’re actually doing your job for once? Are you feeling alright?” Arthur joked.

His smile soon turned to a frown as Merlin ignored his comments. He shrugged it off and allowed Merlin to help him dress and put on his armor. While Arthur was looking over some papers on his table he noticed that Merlin had already made his bed and was starting to take the dishes from the table.

“Merlin, clearly something is upsetting you,” Arthur pointed out.

“It’s nothing sire, do you need anything else?” Merlin asked with his back against the door.

“No, that will be all,” Arthur dismissed, sending a concerned glance towards his friend as he exited.

Merlin took leave and went back to his chambers to help Gaius. He tried to occupy his mind, but nothing he did seemed to ease that burning pit in his stomach. Something had happened, was happening, or was about to happen, he could feel it.

Somewhat abruptly, he decided that he needed to see you. He went to seek out Morgana, as you were filling in for Gwen while she was taking care of her brother. He knew that wherever Morgana was, you wouldn’t be far away.

It was in his search that he saw a few of the knights rushing for an audience with the king. Something had happened. Merlin followed at a close distance and listened in.

“As you know Sire Morgana, her maid, and a few knights rode for a pilgrimage to her father’s grave early this morning. They were meant to be back by now, but there is no word or sign of them. That was until one of the patrols came across one of the knight’s horses. I am afraid something went wrong..”

“Send men out immediately. Arthur, you will lead the search, do whatever you must to bring her home,” the King ordered concerned for his young ward.

“Of course father,” Arthur answered before hastily making an exit. Merlin was right on his heels, and left to prepare their horses.

---

The mercenaries had both you and Morgana in a tent with a guard posted right outside the doors. The two of you had come up with a plan, it was risky at best. However you were both aware of the fact that the further away from Camelot you traveled, the less likely you were to ever see it again.

“Are you ready for this?” Morgana asked, preparing herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

She was about to step forward when you grabbed her arm, “No matter what happens, I want you to take any opportunity you get. Don’t worry about me. Promise.”

“There is no way I’m leaving without you.”

“Morgana, you have to promise me. I cannot bear the risk otherwise.”

“I promise, but only as long as you promise me the same. We take any opportunity we get.”

With that, the plan was in motion. Morgana demanded that she be allowed to bathe and you both were escorted to the river by two of the men. You took the distraction of her undressing to manage to disarm one of the men and tossed Morgana the sword just in time for her to take out the other. The two of you started running back towards the castle, but there was another mercenary that intercepted you. Being as you were the one with the sword you opted to fight him, thankful for the many hours you had spent training with Arthur when you were younger. Morgana turned back to help you.

“Go, I will be right behind you!” you shouted, watching her hesitate, “Morgana go! Now!”

She turned and ran only looking back when she heard your scream in the distance. She quickly picked up her pace again and ran without looking back. She pushed through the aching in her muscles until she was faced with a crossbow aimed at her face. Relief filling her features as soon as she saw its holder.

“Where’s Y/n?” Arthur asked immediately.

Morgana merely shook her head and Arthur turned before his face could give him away. Merlin pushed down his own feelings and went to Morgana to make sure she was okay and offer her water and food. They set off immediately for the castle and soon came the reunion between Uther and Morgana. She begged him to send out another search party for you, after all you had saved her life.

“I am not going to waste the time and resources on a servant girl who has most likely already been executed as she provides no worth to the mercenaries without you,” he explained to Morgana. The words cut Arthur deeper than any sword ever had.

“Please, there is still a chance. Arthur?” she turned towards him hoping he would take her side.

“I’m sorry Morgana, father is right” Arthur managed before turning and exiting a very angry Merlin on his heels.

“How could you say that? How could you possibly agree with him after everything that you and Y/n have been through? I knew you were a clotpole, but this, this is unforgivable!” Merlin all but shouted.

“Merlin Shut Up!” Arthur raised his volume before regaining his composure as he entered his chambers, “Of course I don’t agree with father, but there was no point in making a scene about it. We will pack and leave at first light. We will find her, one way or another.”

Merlin was speechless for a moment, before uttering an apology for overreacting before. He was then quick to leave and make the preparations for the next day as it was already early night.

The next morning he was surprised to see that Arthur had managed to not only wake himself up, but dress himself. He was looking over maps as Merlin entered. Soon the two of them were off on their quest to save the damsel in distress. The rode for the better part of the day before coming to a caves that were inhabited by wilddeoren. As they made it through the other side Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, “I can’t believe the Gaia berries actually worked.”

“Hold up, you mean to tell me that you didn’t know that they would work before you lead us in a cave with giant flesh eating rats!”

“I mean not for sure, I heard stories, but I figured we’d find out one way or another.”

“Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that wilddeoren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't've risked your life like that,” Arthur said a new hint of seriousness in his voice.

“I didn’t realize that even the great Arthur Pendragon could fall victim to the blindness of love,” Merlin joked.

“What in the world are you going on about?

“Your feelings for Y/n. Why can’t you admit that you like her? I mean you are risking your life and even your father’s wrath just for a one in a hundred chance of rescuing her.

Arthur scoffed rolling his eyes, “She is just a friend, I’d do the same for you. In fact I seem to remember disobeying my father before in order to get you an antidote when you decided to get a few days off my drinking out of a poisoned chalice.”

“That was different and you know it. Besides, anyone who has ever seen the two of you together can pick up on it. Why is it so hard to admit you like her? It’s only me, just say it,” Merlin encouraged.

“I can't! How can I admit that I think about her all the time. Or that...I care about her more than anyone. How can I admit that...I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her?” Arthur confessed struggling to keep his emotion in check.

“Why can't you?”

“Because nothing can ever happen between us! To admit my feelings knowing that...hurts too much.”

“Who's to say nothing can happen?”

“My father won't let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he'd let me marry one?”

“You want to marry Y/n?”

“No! I mean maybe someday...I...I don't know...Regardless, it's all talk, and that's all it can ever be.”

“When you're King, you can change that. If she feels the same way, she would wait for you.”

“I can't expect her to do that, it’s not fair to her. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive,” he said regretting the words even as they left his mouth because they caused his stomach to drop.

“I’m sure she’s fine Arthur. She knows that you’ll come for her and that hope will keep her alive.”

The words seemed to offer Arthur some comfort, “Come on. We've got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.”

“You mean more than you do now?” Merlin joked, earning a playful smack from his friend.

[aliensunflower-fics]

‘Akumatized Marinette’ A funny prompt!

So ive seen a few different fics and posts where Lila convinces the class that Marinette is in fact Mayura and/or is working in some way for Hawkmoth, using such evidence as ‘Marinette’s never been akumatized’ and citing how sometimes Marinette’s attempts to be helpful or friendly or yes her mistakes have resulted in an akuma going after her classmates. Also other evidence like how many akumas the class has had total. But what if Lila could not convince class that Marinette was working with Hawkmoth, desperate to connect Marinette to the supervillain in hopes of plummeting her reputation Lila claims that Marinette is in fact AKUMATIZED hence her villainous actions towards Lila!

Now just follow me here:

What if the class don't believe Lila THAT MUCH. Sure Lila has them convinced that she’s a diplomats daughter and that shes got a million illnesses and physical problems and yes she even has everyone believing that she’s famous and that her and Adrien are a secret item [how scandalous!]. But no one in the class will for a SECOND believe that Marinette is working with Hawkmoth. Lila has tried broaching the subject several times, shes tried leaving ‘hints’ and pointing things out that seem ‘incriminating’ but each and every time she does the class scoff and each of them begin listing a 100 reasons why Marinette is definitely NOT a fan of Hawkmoth and would never work with him.

Frustrated but determined to connect the super villain to Marinette and alienate the girl further Lila seethes and plots. Getting more frustrated each failed attempt and trying to chew off her own sausage hair when people talk about how Marinette would definitely kick Hawkmoth’s ass. Then one day Marinette walks in with a totally new look, she’s cut her hair into a messy pixie cut and is going for a pink punk look. The look gets everyone's attention and the day is spent with everyone complimenting the baker girl [she even gets asked out by a few of the guys in the other classes] frustrated that everyone is paying attention to Marinette instead of herself Lila cant help but make up some big lie about how Marinette assaulted her and stole her money.

The class is justifiably shocked! They have been especially protective of Marinette and her reputation ever since she was expelled and nearly akumatized so more then a few of them start yelling at Lila even Alya who normally sides with Lila due to her belief that her designer friend is jealous is furious at Lila for making an accusation like that! Desperate to recover from the poorly timed and worded lie she’s made Lila thinks fast and comes up with a scheme just crazy enough to work! She claims that obviously it wasn’t ACTUALLY Marinette, no it was the horrible akuma MARIONETTE! The class blinks taken aback but they can’t help but ask what Lila is talking about.

The italian smirks feeling sinister pleasure course through her. She begins weaving her sob story tale! About how Marinette had snuck into one of Adrien and Lila’s photoshoots! Where the poor baker girl saw them *gasp* KISSING! Poor Marinette heartbroken and distraught was akumatized into the horrible monster Marionette! Who stalked Lila home and attacked her! She goes on to claim that the Marinette who was in class today was NOT in fact their good friend rocking a new style and haircut but was instead a vicious akuma after all why do you think Lila was keeping so far away from Marinette all day? She’s TRAUMATIZED after her ordeal and now Marionette the akuma is attending class as if she were Marinette! How terrible could Hawkmoth be to be using their heartbroken friend like this!

The class doesn’t want to believe it, but it makes such perfect sense Marinette WOULD be heartbroken by seeing Adrien the ‘love of her life’ kissing Lila her main rival! And just yesterday Marinette looked completely normal with her cute little pigtails and her signature outfit! She never told any of them she was even GOING to get a haircut! And surely if Marinette was going to make such a big change in her appearance she would have told her bestie Alya right?

But now what is the class to do? Poor Marinette is akumatized and they have no idea what to do or what her object could possibly be! Max, always the logical one concludes that they should simply contact Ladybug and have her help poor Marinette! Lila quickly jumps in claiming she already tried contacting Ladybug OBVIOUSLY since the pair are besties! But that Marionette tricked Ladybug into believing she wasn’t akumatized at all! “No!” Lila laments, “were going to need to take care of this ourselves!”

The class is resolute determined to help poor Marinette without the help of Ladybug who has fallen for Hawkmoth’s most clever trick yet. But Lila is quick to warn them that they MUST be careful after all Marionette is a VERY powerful akuma, they cant know for sure the true extent of her terrible powers or when or WHO she might attack next! Lila fears that it will be poor Adrien or perhaps herself again! Insert fake sobs here. The class vow to protect Lila and Adrien from Marionette, and Alya who believes she’s best equipped for this situation since she IS Rena Rouge takes charge of the situation, they decide that no one is allowed to be alone with Marionette and NONE of them are to let the akuma know that they are on to her! They need to play the long game and figure out what her akumatized object is so that they can snatch it and free Marinette from Hawkmoth’s dastardly clutches!

Lila rejoices believing that she’s finally achieved victory, the class now think that Marinette is a dangerous monster and will isolate her, not to mention Lila now believes she can make up any lie she wants about Marinette and that the class will unquestioningly believe her! She goes home with a pep in her step eagerly plotting for all the lies and perks she can get from this newest lie and decides to eat a whole tub of ice cream to celebrate her cleverness, unaware that she’s just signed the ticket for her defeat.

You see the class LOVE Marinette, she’s their friend, and ‘learning’ that she’s been turned into some sort of monstrous extremely clever akuma is both a suprise and none at all. Later on as they all chat in the newly made text group Max points out how it was obvious that Marinette would become the most dangerous and clever akuma shes the smartest person in class besides himself and extremely creative and resourceful. Rose laments about how hurt Marinette must be and how they simply MUST save her as soon as possible. Alix curses Hawkmoth out and claims that the sick freak was probably TARGETING Marinette for awhile now because of how awesome she is. Nino and Kim cry about how their childhood bff needs them now more then ever! And Alya tells them to get ready because they cant abandon Marinette now that she needs them most!

The next day Lila comes to class ready to spin another tale about how the vicious akuma Marionette destroyed her room last night! And while the class do listen and tell Lila that it sucks that happened they seem noticeably... Distracted. When Marinette walks into the room the class practically explodes, Rose and Juleka INSIST that Marinette sit behind them so they can talk! Everyone has some sweet compliment to give to the baker reminding her about how wonderful she is! Lila’s jaw drops open as her classmates practically rush to hug and touch and talk to what they believe is a horrible monstrous Akuma! And it doesnt end their.

Lila asks Alya to hang out at the mall? She cant her and Nino are going to be on ‘Marionette’ surveillance tracking the akuma to see what shes up to and if she might show her akumatized object! Lila decides to try woo Mylene and Ivan into letting her handle their charities ‘finances’? Mylene starts crying about how the charity was Marinette’s idea before she got akumatized and now she might not even remember how amazing it was when shes eventually de-akumatized Lila cant stand hearing them talk about her enemy and gives up her pursuit of the funds. Lila decides to hang out with Kitty Section? They invited Marionette to every show hoping Luka would notice that she’s an akuma and use his amazing intuition to help free poor poor Marinette!

Instead of ostracizing the girl Marinette is now invited to every big event, and is constantly being showered with compliments and love as if the class believes that just loving Marinette enough will be the thing that ‘de-akumatizes’ her. “At least they wont let her anywhere near myself or Adrien.” Lila thinks bitterly as she gets her 5th warning that day that Lila might want to sit out the class going to the movies together with MARIONETTE.

During this time the class has been pulling off various ‘heists’ slowly going through each and every one of Marinette’s belongings to check if its the akumatized object. And I do mean every single belonging. Her sketchbook was ruled out within the first few days same with her signature earrings it was Kim who checked those and it involved a complicated plan involving taking Marinette swimming and having Kim fake a drowning in order to get close enough to ‘Marionette’ to check the studs. Luckily for Tikki, Ondine who was also at the pool decided to save Kim instead and the poor jock got quite flustered when the swimmer performed CPR on him.

Nino and the rest of the boys are the ones tasked with breaking into Marinette’s room while the girl is away on a sleepover with the girls. In order to ‘test’ each object in her room for the source of the akuma. They got a bit too loud and had to make a last minute escape when they heard Tom and Sabine going into fight mode. Poor Nino wasn’t fast enough and was forced to lie through his teeth that he’d been trying to surprise Marinette with a hangout like when they were little kids. [poor kid ended up drinking hot cocoa with Tom and Sabine as they showed off embarrassing baby pictures of Nino and Marinette together]

After about a month or so of shenanigans including a very embarrassing incident involving the entire class accidentally spying on Marinette’s first big date with Luka/Kagami/Felix/Damian [just pick one they are all great ships] and them getting caught red handed thanks to Alix and Kim roughhousing and making a scene at the nice restaurant. And another incident that Alya refers to only as the ‘duck incident’ [Nino can no longer be around birds or feathers] the class is no closer to learning where Marionette’s akumatized object is. And Lila Rossi who thought she’d be bathing in her victory is on the verge of screaming if one more person ignores her!

How does it end? Well maybe the class stage an intervention hoping they can free Marinette with the power of love only for Marinette to fall off of something laughing when she learns what Lila’s big lie was. Maybe Lila finally snaps and screams when she hears the class lament about POOR Marinette for the billionth time. Maybe the class try breaking absolutely everything Marinette owns, Maybe Juleka points out that its kind of weird that Marionette the akuma doesn’t really do... anything? And can change clothes? Can akuma’s do that? No right??? Aren’t their clothes like melded to their body??? Maybe the class finally get Adrien thinking he can ‘fix’ Marinette only for him to very confusedly tell them hes not dating Lila and has never kissed her and what Marinette akumatized??? Maybe The class recruit Luka and Kagami, Marinette’s other friends only for them to have a great laugh at the class before pointing out the literal mountain of things wrong with everything they just said.

Just fun shenanigans and ‘akumatized’ Marinette.

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[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises. 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

--

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs. 

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.” 

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.” 

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch. 

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually. 

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.” 

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.” 

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--” 

“You know he hated it.” 

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it  better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better. 

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?” 

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk. 

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.” 

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.” 

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.” 

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it. 

Maybe I do need a drink. 

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less. 

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced. 

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.” 

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--” 

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again. 

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.” 

“We can’t even see Inej.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.” 

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.” 

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.” 

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy. 

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?” 

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.” 

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply. 

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.” 

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.” 

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.” 

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.” 

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.  

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.” 

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.” 

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.” 

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.” 

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones. 

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.” 

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand. 

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him. 

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay. 

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him. 

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem. 

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here. 

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.” 

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.” 

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive. 

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.” 

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.” 

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.” 

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.” 

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.” 

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--” 

“Who what?” Finally--progress. 

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way. 

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.” 

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.” 

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.” 

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.” 

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs. 

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.” 

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.” 

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.” 

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I frown freely, “Kaz--” 

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--” 

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel. 

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.” 

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[writingssummit]

Hi I just read you’re tsukishima story and it was so cute omg but I have an idea

Let’s say y/n has a huge crush on tsukishima since they were children right. But tsukishima never rlly liked y/n in that way. So he would always like be kinda aggressive but like not in the physical way, like he would be cold to her whenever y/n would constantly say something abt them dating. In reality he did like her but he didn’t realize it. Then suddenly a new guy shows up, he’s like really handsome and he’s in a small band, he plays the bass. Y/n actually listens to that band and she was so excited so the two of them click really easy, that’s when she starts being distant with tsukishima and stops the talks abt them dating, tsukishima starts to miss everything y/n would say to him and he wanted to get y/n back, but when he tries he sees y/n and the guy sharing a peck 😔‼️ sorry if this was longgggg ugh

a/n: ahhh! I’m glad you thought so, haha! don’t worry about the length, specifics are always welcome! <3 this is a really good idea! i think it ended up on the longer side, but yk, more content is good? i also ended up naming him, so it’s easier to refer to him. i keep holding on to highschool settings i’m sorry LMAO- i haven’t finished season 4 and i’m not reading the manga yet :( but anyways, here’s a bit of angst/unrequited love to balance out my recent fluff posts !

asks/requests: open !

word count: 2.6k

warnings?: some angst/unrequited love

worth a try.

- TSUKISHIMA KEI -

growing up with tsukishima had been a whirlwind of experiences. ever since you had moved and transferred to his school the last year of primary school, you’d been drawn to him. the tall, blonde kid with glasses. you found his pride in volleyball admirable, and you even found him to be so much cooler than you ever would be.

you originally didn’t know anybody when you first moved, but you fit right in with both tsukishima and his own friend. it was a strange combination, but it worked somehow. while tsukishima was rude, and yamaguchi timid, you were loud and energetic. you were lively. you challenged him just for the fun of it, you poked and prodded, just having fun being around him.

you were his self-declared best friend.

looking back on it, you probably always had feelings for tsukishima. back in those days when you tried to get into volleyball yourself. wanting to be like him, you tried your best, but you weren’t all that good. he would make fun of you for it, but you weren’t bothered by settling for being supportive of him and your freckled friend. You were just as passionate as they were about it.

you were even there when that passion jaded. watched as he stared at his brother from across the game.

it was when you started junior high, that you came to the conclusion that you were in love with your friend. but unlike most people, you did nothing to hide it. why would you? you were always open, always honest and straight to the point. you just weren’t one to hide that.

“go out with me, tsukki!” you poked his side with a cheeky grin, your eyes bright. your friend wasted no time in rejecting you.

“no.”

“aw, you sure?”

“i would never date somebody so stupidly annoying.” you shook off the blatant insult, laughing instead with your hand on your neck. a small thing you picked up from your other friend. yamaguchi.

“you’ll come around one day!”

“i doubt that.”

it went on like that all throughout your remaining years until high school. a constant back and forth that became a schedule at that point.

it was decided that tsukishima would be going to karasuno, as would yamaguchi. and so would you. you would go where they go, you’d never thought about leaving them both. you’d stay with them as long as possible, holding on to their friendship like it was your lifeline..

and holding onto tsukishima even more so.

you were there with them on the first day, when they joined volleyball club. that first practice match against aoba johsai.

you weren’t always watching their practices, since you had your own club duties to attend to of course. but you always made sure to stop by the clubroom while the boys were getting ready, just to say hi to everyone and to a certain someone.

“hey, hey!” you poked your head from around the door, waving a hand. the team greeted you cheerfully enough, minus tsukishima. who looked annoyed to no end.

“tsukki, wanna go grab something to eat after your practice? i know a really great spot!”

he didn’t even look at you, only giving you the middle finger.

you laughed, shrugging. “worth a try.”

the first time the team had witnessed your very forward approach to asking the extremely salty and crude boy out, they were surprised. the way he turned you down so effortlessly too, threw them off. the added shock of anybody even liking him was the cherry on top.

“is this normal?” sugawara asked, a chuckle falling from his lips. asahi was beside him, sweatdropping at the sight of your affectionate display, and tsukishima’s obvious lack of reciprocation.

yamaguchi smiled awkwardly, nodding. “well- yeah, actually. It’s been happening for years.”

“i’d kill to have somebody all over me like that! lucky bastard!” tanaka held his fist up dramatically, as if clenching his heart in it. he even had a tear in the corner of his eye.

“well then, i’ll be on my way! good practice, everyone!” you chirped, finally leaving them.

“l/n’s got some serious determination.” tanaka whistled.

“misplaced determination. they won’t shut up about dating, it’s annoying.” tsukishima didn’t sound as impressed as his loud senpai was.

yamaguchi tilted his head to the side. “really? i would’ve thought tha-”

“shut up.”

a small laugh. “sorry, tsukki.”

it would forever continue, it seemed like. you never thought you’d give it up, you always knew that you liked tsukishima. your heart would pound, your stomach would feel fluttery. but even though you’ve been with him since you were children, it didn’t seem like he’d grown to feel the same. it would get you down sometimes, his mean and harsh words whenever you’d bring it up. either casually, or intentionally.

you couldn’t help being so hopelessly whipped!

you were walking down the sidewalk with yamaguchi and tsukishima, humming along to a new song that had been dropped recently. you were so into it, strumming your fingers like you were the one playing in the recording. tsukishima watched you with critical eyes, but yamaguchi watched as if this was entertaining.

“new song, l/n?” yamaguchi asked you, and you paused the music. you nodded right away, grinning.

“yeah! there’s this kind of new band I found a bit ago, i think around the time you guys met nekoma for that first practice match? their music is so cool!” you could go on and on about them, to be honest. they may be small, and very underground, but you liked them anyways.

“wahh, they sound cool- right, tsukki?” yamaguchi and you both looked behind at him, faces expecting the same sentiment.

he only scoffed.

you roll your eyes playfully, sidling up to him for the first time today. “you want to go get some ice cream, tsukki?” you wished, hoped for him to just say yes for once. your heart was begging at this point.

“get out of my face, l/n.” he said coldly.

with a defeated sigh, you walked a few steps quicker, before unpausing the music. the humming resumed, and yamaguchi glanced back and forth between you both with a weary expression.

“you could try to be a bit nicer, tsukki-”

“they can’t take a damn hint, it’s not my job to be nice about it.” He said stubbornly.

yamaguchi sighed himself, nodding along. there wasn’t a point in continuing the topic; he always shut it down whenever yamaguchi brought it up. he’s never been so aggressive about something before.

interhigh had come, taking up your friend’s time with it. you were upset that they’d be so busy now, but with the new tournament coming, came a new student.

he was friendly, and cheerful, and honestly probably one of the most charming people you’ve ever met in your life. he even looked familiar to you, like you’ve seen him somewhere before. you couldn’t figure it out, so you just opted to the conclusion you must have just passed him down the street at some point. or some strange case of deja vu? either way, he was in your class now.

you were just coming back from the bathroom, your earbuds plugged into your ears like they usually were nowadays.

“l/n, please take your earbuds out, it’s class time.” iour teacher scolded you gently, and you pouted a little. It was just getting to a good part-

you had tugged on them a little too hard, and instead of just getting them out of your ears, they came out of the headphone jack completely.

you were embarrassed as your new favorite band’s music started blasting out of the phone’s speakers, and you hurried to turn it off. You were blushing, laughing at yourself as you went to go sit back down.

ahh, dang! everyone heard that! you were just laughing at yourself in your head now.

there was a tap on your desk, and you turned your face towards the hand. it was the new kid, and his face looked bright.

“you listen to my band’s music?” he whispered to you, his face beaming, and you gasped quietly.

“is this you?” you pointed at your pocket, where your phone rested. he nodded.

“that’s so- wow, i go to school with one of the people in my favo-”

“l/n, do you have something to say about the lecture?”

you shook your head violently, holding back a huge grin. “n-no, miss!” your teacher sighed, and continued past the interruption.

the looks you both shared didn’t go unnoticed by tsukishima.

everyday now, you were hanging around the new kid. you had come to learn his name, which was ishiwaka teruo. you both had hit it off instantly, it was like you guys had known each other forever, and not just a few weeks. it was almost like some crazy twist of fate, or luck. you guys were both alike in a lot of ways, held similar passions, too.

“see you, ishi!” you waved a hand, grinning as he waved a goodbye back. you guys didn’t take the same way home, so he ended up leaving the opposite direction, while you walked with tsukishima and yamaguchi. you were humming again, one of ishiwaka’s band’s songs.

“you seem pretty happy, l/n.” yamaguchi chuckled, watching as you danced a little. 

“oh yeah, you bet! ishi actually invited me to sit in for one of his practices, isn’t that so cool? he plays the bass, and he even offered to teach me a few chords. i don’t really mess with instruments, but-”

“can you shut up about him? all you do is just yap on and on about this guy, hanging out with him isn’t enough for you? what’s so special anyways?” his tone was harsh, and condescending. “if you’re just going to talk about him all the time, i’m not walking with you guys anymore.” your eyes widened as soon as you heard what tsukishima had just said. your heart was pounding, like it had been caught in the act of something terrible. you even felt slightly ashamed.

“wow, nice, tsukki. sorry for being excited about something.” you muttered, clutching your bag straps tight. what did you expect at this point? he didn’t like you as much as you thought, if he was so ready to just leave you behind. yamaguchi sensed the tension between you both, which made him uncomfortable.

you were all quiet for the rest of the way home.

interhigh came and went, the loss against aoba johsai stung the volleyball team, leaving their spirits broken, and cracked. you hadn’t been to the game that day, busy with a certain band member. and your missing presence hadn’t been looked over.

“where were you?” tsukishima had confronted you in the hallways, while you were walking with ishiwaka to the water fountain. it was break, which meant he could freely talk to you now.

you looked away from him, a nervous air around you that wasn’t like you at all.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t make it, tsukki- i heard that you guys lost, and i’m really sorry i couldn’t have been there!” your words were careful and slow, like you were thinking on how to say the right thing to him.

the blonde closed his eyes, and looked off to the side. he didn’t look pleased in the slightest. “were you with your precious band member? like some kind of groupie.” 

ishiwaka raised an eyebrow, and you just shook your head. tsukishima was really doing this right now? you said sorry, what else were you supposed to say?

“you know what, yeah. i was with him. it’s not like..it’s not like i have to be around you or yamaguchi every second of the day, okay?” you sighed. “look, i’ll make it to your next practice, and skip my club activities. is that fine?”

he hesitated, before giving you a curt nod. you smiled in relief. “great! i’ll see you then. now, about that specific measure-”

you had left him behind, and tsukishima had been hit with a realization.

you hadn’t mentioned going on a date at all. not today, not even within the past few weeks. was something wrong with you? he’d gotten so used to that, but now even that wasn’t a constant.

it was like you were slipping away from him, day by day.

and he realized that he didn’t like that.

as the days went on, thoughts about this ran rampant through his mind. it was maddening, he was trying to focus on school, and now, as he was walking to the clubroom, volleyball. he was scarily silent, and yamaguchi caught onto it right away.

“tsukki?” he asked quietly, not wanting to push. but he wanted to know. ever since tsukishima had come back from break that day, he’d been acting strange. he was even saltier, if that was possible.

“am i not enough for l/n?” he spit out the question, like it was a disease.

taken aback, the freckled boy could only blink. the two stopped walking, looking right at each other now. “what?”

tsukishima barked out a laugh, running a hand over his face in frustration. “you heard me, yamaguchi.”

yamaguchi’s jaw dropped. “do you miss them?” was he for real? was this jealousy actually coming from tsukishima?

“hell if i know.” he muttered. but he knew the answer, and that’s what upset him.

“i knew it. tsukki, why did it have to be now, though?” he shook his head in disbelief. at the utter obliviousness of this boy. yamaguchi knew himself that there was something there in tsukishima, something resembling feelings for you. but of course it was when you were no longer always around that he saw it.

“what?”

“l/n isn’t a puppy anymore, they’re not following after you. if you haven’t noticed, they’ve given up. you need to do this yourself, and fix it.” yamaguchi stated. he wouldn’t be lying if he said that he’d been frustrated with the back and forth between you both, it was so obvious to him, but apparently not obvious to tsukishima. or you, for that matter.

“i know that.” he muttered. he would have to confront you about this. was he stupid? why didn’t he get this before? 

“then do something about it.”

tsukishima was quiet.

it was decided by him that he’d catch you outside of practice, since you said you’d be coming to watch. it was a quick, and impulsive decision from him, but he needed this to be figured out. his head was at it’s most unclear, and that was affecting him.

you were affecting him.

he looked around the outside of the gym, trying to see if he could spot you coming. it took a minute, before he saw a figure off to the side. it was you, he could tell by that bag anywhere. he stepped out, only to be met with the full picture.

you were with ishiwaka, and you were kissing him.

tsukishima hurried back into the gym with a stone-cold expression. oh. so this is where he stood now.

no longer at the top of your list, no longer important.

you walked into the gym, beaming. it angered tsukishima, more than he should have been. he yanked your arm, and held you by them with a vice grip. you looked up at your friend with nervous, maybe even scared eyes. you hadn’t seen tsukishima like this before.

“what is he to you?”

you blinked. “wh-what?”

“who is he to you? that little bass player.” his eyes were searching yours, for anything, anything that he could hold on to. you didn’t respond, only looking away from his intense stare.

your eyes didn’t hold that same look that they used to whenever you looked at him. 

he had his answer. and he didn’t like it. so he let go of you, maybe for real this time. things had changed so much, right under his nose. and he had let it happen.

[butiknewyou]

do you have any thoughts on long story short? it's not one of my favourites, but "no more keeping score / now i just keep you warm" is just so ????AJFOIFJAIOFJAOJ!!!!! you know what i mean?

anon to be 100% honest with you I have so many thoughts about long story short that every single time I listen to it I have to pause to Think about lyrics. because I never shut up, I’m going to talk about my general thoughts on the song then under the cut I’ll talk about specific lyrics.

I think it is the most fascinating thing that Taylor will tell the same story in so many different ways. evermore’s title track, reputation, long story short — all the same girl! but obviously in very different ways: in evermore, she dwells on every single moment and even that last hint of light is just that minute when she realizes maybe she’ll be okay one day, whereas long story short is a lot bouncier and more focused on her relationship’s aftermath, not just her own. I think every single lyric in this song is incredible and some are glossed over a lot and it has a lot of my favorite technique — changing up words to reflect growth. I’m going to talk about my favorite lyrics and because I’ve spoken about this song before I’m going to link old posts of mine :)

fatefully, I tried to pick my battles till the battle picked me: this sums it all up huh? This is the best description of Taylor’s choices up to 2016 she could have written. so many times she let things slide, didn’t cause a feud, apologized when she did, etc...until that one event which to her felt like fate in the way it so completely rearranged her life.

and I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole: I think about this lyric all the time because she’s acknowledging that as a famous and loved celebrity in 2014, she was put on a pedestal, something she could easily be knocked off of, and the rabbit hole is all those other bad consequences. it reminds me of “barefoot in the wildest winter”, how sometimes one dark thought can lead to a whole dark mindset.

pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips, long story short it was the wrong guy: I love songs that make a little fun of Tom Hiddleston (as a treat) and I LOVE the imagery of falling off a cliff and catching onto whatever you can. the fact that it’s lips is funny but it’s also accurate for where she was.

actually, I always felt I must look better in the rear view, missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to

when I dropped my sword, I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door, and we live in peace but if someone comes at us this time I’m ready: these lines are talked about a LOT in the fandom but I really love the parallels to daylight and description of the moment when she decides the fighting and pettiness isn’t worth it: he is and she’ll do anything to protect them.

no more keeping score, now I just keep you warm, no more tug of war, now I just know there’s more: yes I LOVE this. there’s like eight songs where she’s like And Then We Stopped Playing Games. those last few words are super underrated: one of the reasons she’s okay stopping the friction and the tug of war is the confidence that this will last.

and my waves meet your shore ever and evermore : not going to lie this is one of my posts I love the most! and obsessed with the concept that love is when two people change together (“our coming of age has come and gone”)

past me verse: AKSNDJSSKJSWJSKSK!!!! AKSJDJDKSKSKSKWOWJSJSKSJSJSJSJ!!!!!!! I hope this is a helpful analysis ♥️

and you passed right by, I was in the alley surrounded on all sides -> and he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky: again, this concept that she was so busy fighting she missed him the first time around, but realized it the second time around.

if the shoe fits, walk in it till your high heels break -> walk in it everywhere you go: linked post and what it all comes down to is a symbol of feminine attractiveness that is extremely uncomfortable vs a shoe that you can walk in ALL the time and if it breaks you don’t fall straight to the ground. “if the shoe fits” is also important because that 1989 lifestyle DID “fit” her at the time, it wasn’t 100% horrible and there were aspects of being that much on top that she loved.

pushed from the precipice, climbed right back up the cliff: this is so crucial because she’s acknowledging that in getting back to the top again she could fall down, that she’s still on a cliff

long story short I survived

If you made it to the end of this I love you!!!! Idk if when you asked for thoughts you wanted uh this or “I think it’s neat” but I hope anything you were looking for is here!