#ed in alice through the looking glass??? yes please

[edspeleerscock]

james harcourt 😵‍💫 HES JUST SO

[et-written]

I promise, I'll be good?

[If you guys want, here's my wattpad acc: https://www.wattpad.com/story/322247044-one-shots-male-reader-open-for-requests ]

(Cullens x  Abandoned! Son !male reader)

(Bella x male read) 

AU. Edward and Bella are not together

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"Mom? Dad?" Peering into the house, disturbed by the disquiet stillness, I placed my school bag down beside the dinning table. "Alice? Emm? Jaz? Ed? You guys here?" 

Silence

Nothing in the rooms, nothing in the garages, no answers to any texts or calls. 

Nothing. 

"Anyone?" Standing back in the living room,  I jumped at the sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside.  Frowning a little as I opened the door, I was greeted with the sight of Bella, a girl that I had grown exceptionally close to, and one of our mutual ... acquaintances Jacob. I tolerated him, though I found it exceptionally annoying whenever he attempted to forcefully imprint on Bella. Not that I could blame him, I myself had a crush on her...a pretty big one.

"Hey, what are you guys doing here? Not that I'm complaining." Smiling at the sight of my friends, it soon fell a little as they shared a look. "Is everything alright?" 

"Y/n..." Jacob stepped forward, his face conflicted, his mouth opening a couple of times wordlessly. 

"Yes? What's up dude? You ok?" Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, my heart began to sink as I watched his gaze, the sorrow in it. 

No...

It was pity. 

"Did you find a note?" He asked, sighing when I shook my head. "The Cullens...your family..."

"Yea what about them? Are they alright?" I pressed, anxiety eating at me. 

"They're gone...they left this morning, they left a letter...Billy asked me to give this to you." I stared at the envelope in his hands,  unable to move, unable to bring myself to read the letter. A soft hand landed on my back, gently resting there. "Do you want me to read it?"

Shifting my gaze to my friend, she offered a small, soft smile. "It's okay," My voice felt raw as I opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. 

"Y/n?" Bella's voice seemed so far away as I fought the tear back, handing the letter to her and turning on my heels, disappearing inside without so much as a word. After a moment, I heard a second set of feet on the gravel, Jacob cussed loudly. "Y/n!" 

"Yes." Spinning, I was confronted with the worried face of my closest friend. "What do you want?"

"Let me spend the day? I don't want you to be alone right now." I bit back a retort, my sharp tongue would not bring them back; and being alone again wasn't something I wanted. 

"What about Jacob?" I asked, worried that if I met anyone's gaze the tears would fall, so I kept my gaze down at the glass of water I had aimlessly poured. "I'll be right back."

Her footfalls on the smooth floors were soft and gentle, the door closing behind her as exited. I could hear the din of Jacobs voice, before the door reopened and I felt her standing just off to my right, behind me. "What did I do Bella? Where did I go wrong?"

"You haven't done anything wrong Y/n," Turning to her slightly with a sigh, I could only shake my head. "Why don't they want me?" 

"Y/n..." softly her arms wrapped around me, gently pulling me closer. 

I wish I could cry. No matter how much heartache I am put through, I never seem to be able to cry. So instead, I lay there, her hand gently stroking my hair as my ear pressed against her chest, her heartbeat steady as I simply lay there, feeling  my world slowly crack...

Before it fell apart. 

"Bella?" I croaked out, feeling her lift her head off mine for a moment, allowing me to raise my own to meet her gaze. "Mhm?" 

"Please don't leave? I- I know I'm-m not the most smart or athletic, and I know I'm just human and I know I-"

"Y/n!" Cutting me off, her soft fingers gently wipe the few tears that fall as she cups my cheek tenderly, her soft eyes gazing into mine. "You are perfect, and....and anyone would be foolish to walk away from you, and I won't leave you ok? I care far to much about you..."

Hearing her words, all I could do was merely nod as I allowed her to guide my head to her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around me, a blanket loosely draped over me as she tenderly stroked my hair as exhaustion overtook me slowly. 

================================================================================

It had been roughly 4 weeks, I honestly couldn't remember. It was very blurry,  everything became one and I seemed to constantly be unfocused. And what was worse? 

My brain began to forget things in the short term. The psychologist said it was to do with the emotional trauma I had gone through; the reason I would forget what someone told me less than 2 minutes ago. "Y/n were you even listening?" 

"Sorry sir?" Looking up from my notebook, I returned my gaze as the teacher began to rant about my behavior, belittling me; something that I had gotten used to in the last few weeks. Saved by the bell, I rushed out the class and out into the parking lot as the day came to an end. Digging in the glove compartment of my car, I fumbled with the medication container that held the prescription I had been told to take. "Hey...let me help?" 

Gently, Bella's hands softly held mine, waiting to see if she could help or if I wanted to struggle more. "Can I try one more time?" Looking at my lap, I couldn't bare to meet her gaze in the pitiful state I was in. 

Reluctantly her hands slipped away and I attempted again to open the little container, but ultimately failed and handed her the bottle.  Biting open the bottle of water I had in the car, I took the pills while I waited for the shaking to pass, closing my eyes. Once the door closed on her side, her favorite music playing softly, I pulled out of the parking lot and drove slowly up to the house, feeling a little calmer. Bella began to tell me about all sorts of things that had happened in the classes we didn't share, and I listened with rapt attention.

I loved to hear her talk, it was soothing; more so than any medication. She knew exactly what to do as well, whenever I had panic attacks or simply found it difficult to cope, and I could never truly show her how much it meant to me....how much she meant to me. The car ground on the gravel as we pulled up, Bella jumping out first and retrieving our bags from the boot as I grabbed the groceries on the back seat that I had gotten during lunch break. As we entered, we moved in rehearsed synchronization, I unpacked the food, she made coffee, I put on the washing machine, she sat and did her homework before I sat down across from her and helped her.  Though today was different, I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"Hey? Earth to Y/n?" Humming softly I quirked my eyebrows as I came back down to earth. "Sorry, I got lost in thought. I'm back now though, what's up?"

"Do you like anyone? As in like-like...as in a crush?" Her eyes were firmly fixed to her book, but her writing had slowed to a near stop, indicating she was paying more attention to me than her work. 

"I mean yea, I do...why? It's not like she would ever like me back, I'm pretty sure she sees me as just a friend or a brother so." Rambling I finished off my own homework as she puzzled over my words in her mind. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she spends so much time with me but...it just feels like, I don' know, like she has something else to chase...a four leg shifter if we want to be specific." My words were not much more that a mumble near the end, but she some how heard them. 

"You think I like Jacob? Uh, no. Look don't get me wrong, he's a great friend, but I wouldn't want to be around him 24/7. No, I have someone else in mind." 

"Oh really?" I chirped, turning to my friends face that was slowly becoming redder. "And who would that someone else be?" 

Her silence, amusingly, stretched for a while; the inner conflict present on her face. Deciding to spare her poor heart, I suggested a movie,  lazily stirring my coffee as we moved from the dinning room to the lounge, routinely going about our business as I put  on a movie called 'A Knights Tale'. A fun film, something that we had watched a significant amount as it took my mind off of things superbly, but once again; a subtle change in the atmosphere was tangible and it was beginning to bother me, adding to the fact I could see my friend wanted something, or to say something as least. As the movie moved to a 'quieter' part, it bothered me significantly. 

"Just say it." I spoke, without looking at Bella, someone who I wished was lying with her head on my chest right now. She, however, looked taken aback; "Pardon?" 

"Bel," Now looking at my crush, I used her nickname that only I ever seemed to be allowed to use, her face unreadable. "I know you well enough to know when you want to say something, so just say it. Please? It's bugging me massively." 

"I can't because you'll hate me for it." She shook her head, gazing at her feet as she tucked her knees to her chest. "I could never hate you Bel..."

"Who is your crush then?" She asked, her gaze faltering under my own slightly, but she held firm and I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Bella, do you trust me?" Her words rushed out of her mouth as she frantically nodded. "With my life. Why would you even as-"

"Close your eyes...please?" Heart in throat, I couldn't back out now as her eyelids closed gracefully, slowly I leaned in, gently pressing my lips to hers. 

At first, she was still, yet as I pulled away her hand shot out, lidded gaze leveled at me and a faint blush on her soft cheeks. "I'm s-"

She shook her head and pulled me closer and sealed my apology with a searing kiss the burned my soul; her free hand gently holding my face as my own held her face gently. She pulled back ever so slightly and whispered gently against my lips, sending a shiver down my spine and butterflies to my core, "I'm glad you feel the same."

"Just kiss me already," I mummered, earning a chuckle from both of us as her fingers laced themselves with mine while her lips tenderly loved mine.  

And for once in the last however many weeks, I felt like I had a home... 

"Please don't leave me?" 

" I won't. You mean more than the world to me Y/n."

[tomdiddlyumptious]

help me shift 👹

MAKING SURE YOU ARE CLEAR OF WHAT YOU WANT.

Please make sure you are clear of what you want! If you are not clear of what you want you might accidentally shift into somewhere DONT wanna be. To avoid this make sure you watch a video of where you wanna shift to before you do it. 

Example: i watch peter parker 5 minute videos of clips of him being a dork or etc, i look at peter parker/tom holland pictures of him holding a guitar because as you came from kats blog you know i like peter parker singing to me, i might look at video clips of him singing, but he doesnt sing in his new york voice so i have to imagine that on my own.

Example: i shifted to five nights at freddies, they ended up having an orgy. scary<3.

REMEMBER THIS IS YOUR REALITY.

In your desired reality you can make whatever you want to. If everytime you clap you hands you make zendaya teleport to give you a kiss YOU CAN DO THAT. if you want to control your desired reality, meaning in you control everything they say YOU CAN DO THAT. just make sure you have a script. Its basically like writing a blurb or a series if you do that! You can look like whatever you want to, if you wanna be 11111’9 you can be that!, if you wanna be rich you can be that!

Example: i might write on my script that everytime i shift to my reality that i wake up cuddling peter parker, then hed wake up while i am making breakfast and remind me of how beautiful i am and wrap his arms around my waist.

Example: i own a house that would be 4 million dollars in my cr, but when i shifted into my dr it only costed a single dollar and i dont have to pay rent.

Example: sadly my family isnt supportive of the lgbtq+ so in my dr i stick to they/them but as i progress i have peter help me of who i wanna be the next day, she/they, or he/they. If you dont recall i made a post about seed of chucky, how i am basically glen/glenda because i cannot figure it out, yeah….peter made that joke- sometimes hed tell tony how beautiful his boyfriend is, which i totally love him for that, or how beautiful his girlfriend is, which is so loving to me. 

SHIFTING.

I personally do not support permanent shifting!! Nor do i consider it. Because you might miss your family, your friends, and something might happen to then while youre gone. Also, do not become attached. It can cause extreme sadness and probably depression (i personally havent went through this because i dont know how dumb my clone is and theyd probably walk in a grocery store without their mask on)

Example: if i were to shift to somewhere permanent, say ive been there for about a year, and i dont know how long ive been shifted in my real life, you might be in your dr for one year but what if in your cr youve been gone for 3?? Remember you dont remember ANYTHING from your cr while youve been gone to your dr one.

Example: peter parker says i love you and i hope youre here forever and now you dont wanna leave him but you have to go. And then you get so stressed about it that you cant shift but you miss him so much.

Example: i come back from my dr and have to take a covid test for my job just to find out that i have it, but then i become confused, i havent been anywhere. And then boom it comes to you that youve shifted and you cant control anything. 

SCRIPTS.

Scripts are great!! They take a lot of time tho. Thats why i recommend you do it on docs instead of paper and then maybe print it out. If you wanna. My script isnt fully finished AT ALL but i am clear of what i want to it helps too. Scripts help out with what you want fully! You can always change it anytime you like, make different ones, and anything youd like! In your script you can write out how others think of you, your appearance, the way you smell, the way you act, your love interests, your hobbies, your family, and your backstory.  You can add your cr friends, shift celebs in and more! Add in what your house looks like!

Example: appearance: i have large blue eyes, my waist is 1’ inch and i am so skinny, i am the only beautiful girl in school. Mood: i cry when someone calls me annoying and pushes me, but then sings this is my fight song and becomes very confident and making everyone join me singing to the bully making them drop to the floor and cry, making me feel sad and helping them up before we become friends and they hurt my heart again, breaking it before i sing again making them move away forever and make me so popular in school, making peter parker want me and do my homework making me have all A+s

Example: backstory: i was born into the richest mafia and when i was five my parents died in a car crash.

Example: love interests: peter parker, we met at the ice skating rink and i accidentally fell, he made fun of me and hates my guts and he calls me a whore everytime making me look down to me feet “i-i-i-i-i-i-i im so s-sorry!” and then i ran away. MJ, we met in class, she drew me. I dont like her because she too nice, but she likes me and compliments me on my small waist. Haz osterfield. Hes so rich and he calls me a good girl everytime he accidentally drops his pencil and asks me to pic me up, i let out a gentle “UwU” before doing a ahegao face before he shoves his two fingers down my throat<3

WAITING ROOMS.

Your waiting room is your safe place, it can look like an office, like a bedroom, a livingroom. Anything you want. You use waiting rooms if you arent ready to go to your dr, if you wanna take a break from your dr. there can be multiple doors, from different realities, you can have an assistant who checks up on you every time you come in and out of the room. 

Example: my waiting room is a soft coffee brown, contains of six doors, looking around i see a large tall green plant right next to a assistant desk, finding harrison osterfield with glasses, clicking through my realities, keeping up files, making sure nothing is going wrong and throwing some suggestions spicing up the reality i choose. The six doors lead to, New york, Queens, the space ship of guardians of the galaxy, Mean girls, Hogwarts, a famous lifestyle with tom holland, a regular life style with tom holland, and a school of a mix of Ron, the twins, Harry, peter parker, MJ, haz, ned, oliver wood, betty. Carl from shameless, Otis from sex ed, the hold stranger things circle, and etc<3.

METHODS.

Methods help you to shift. You can make your own even. I use the heartbeat method, the alice in wonderland method, and the raven method. 

Alice in wonderland: imagine yourself sitting against a tree, a book in your hands as you could help but look up and see (love interest/friend in cr) run past, it made you look, your confused as you stand up running after them. There much ahead of you, just running straight as you could hear their footsteps against the floor before they suddenly stopped, right before jumping down a rabbit hole, your eyebrows furrow before you walk up to the hole you watched as his body became littler and littler, suddenly feeling the urge to fall down the rabbit hole, you do. As you fall freely down the rabbit whole you find yourself letting go of th things you dont want. What do you not want, your homework? Your car? Your landlord? Your prince-able? Your cheap toaster? And as you think about it you slowly drop, your eyes closing and your feet meeting the ground as you imagine your eyes open. Looking around you find white walls, 6 white doors, three on each side with golden handles. But you didnt feel connected to those so you continued to walk down the hallway. Coming to a stop you looked left and right, finding your love interest on the right with a small golden key in their hand. They smile at you, walking over, the grab your hand, their hand warm holding yours before they ask, “are you ready?” you say yes, they smile and turn their head to their right, you did the same, finding another door. They let your hands go “see you on the other side y/n” they smiled before walking off. You looked at the key in your hand before walking up to the door, putting the key in and turning it, haring the door unlock and you opened the door. Finding yourself in your dr room, finding your dr self sleeping in their bed. You close the door behind you, walking to the body and opening the blanket to lay ontop of them. You slowly feel your soul seeping into your dr self, feeling tingles throughout your body as you entered your dr one. You have shifted. 

Heartbeat method: you play heartbeat sounds on your phone (perferably the app musi) and lay your head on top of the pillow, hearing the heartbeats you imagine its your dr love interest laying under you. I personally listen to the humming one too. As you fall asleep you should feel the shifting side effects.

Raven method: you can lay anyway you want, just make sure your limbs arent touching. You close your eyes softly and slowly count to 100, you might have to do it over and over again. But as the numbers pass you can say affirmations, or “past memories” or imagine yourself with your dr love intrest/friend. 

The way i do it is, i use the alice in wonderland method first, but instead of laying down by myself i imagine my dr love interest came inside of the room with me, laid down next to my dr self and told me to “come on” or i imagine theirs double of us (dr peter parker) and we shift together, then after that the heartbeat method plays, while im still laying down with peter and im ontop of his chest im listening to his heartbeat, im also counting, closing everything else out but either his “heartbeat” or my breathing while counting up to 100.  There is also shifting guidance here. I suggest you make a playlist with the alice in wonderland and then the heartbeat method or do them separately if you want!

Now, i am not the best of them all but this is what i could provide!!

[cristalknife]

On Comments, feedback anxiety on both the writer and the reader’s side

 If one could look into  my WIP draw, or take a glance at the fics I’ve actually posted, it becomes clear misunderstandings based on miscommunication is something I seem have a thing for. In all honesty is more of a lifelong study and recurring theme I keep stumbling on or consciously walking into. Preface: I am only human and mistakes can happen, but usually I try to handle the detailed label (also referred as Read the Tin or as written on the tin) of major warning with my writings that is usually missing in any other aspect of life, sort of a lovely user manual/preview so one could know to walk away before getting invested or worse triggered. 

Or at least know exactly what they signed up for.

Is it perfect? No but at least it’s there, as a writer I did all I could to avoid unpleasantness, the rest it’s up to the reader’s discretion. Which leads me to the heart of this post: comments, feedbacks, criticism, politically correctness, manners and the anxiety they produce in both the writer and the reader. 

The picture is big so I’ll divide in sides, but remember that people are made of multiple sides, and sometimes those sides are at odds or outwardly warring against each other. That’s pretty average for any irrational human being with emotions.

From the POV of an overthinking anxious writer:

1)  Ao3′s Kudos are sort of like a watered down thumbs up, after about 4-5 fic posted (or ~15K words of stories out there to be consumed), they became the kind of anxiety triggers feeding thoughts of why so many people/guests left a kudo but the story wasn’t good enough to warrant the time of a comment/review 2) Comments are lovely reminder someone found something in your words that made them react so strongly they felt like sharing that reaction with you was worth their time. 

2.1) Comments are also the cause of anxiety about their content before you have the courage to read what they says...

3) Criticisms and feedbacks can be a wonderful tool to improve your writing for the next story. But not if they are laced with insult, personal attacks in that case they are the kind of black hole that pushes people to stop writing all together, or at least stop sharing what they write. 

4) single emoji (♥), 2 char long (<3) comments takes years of effort and a lot of conditioning to remember to slip in reader mode and appreciate the effort it took to stop and do even that, instead of allowing doubts to gnaw at the back of your head with waaaiiiiit that’s all? was it good? was it bad? arrrghhh what does it even mean??? 

5) Statistics and numbers, those are the evilest of the most buggering things and the most vile tempters that will push you to compare your stories against others (a futile exercise in frustration and pointless reason to shred one’s own self confidence to the tiniest of pieces for literally nothing)

5.1) Especially when you have two writing mind frames: 

 writing the stories you want to read (and usually it is either a niche where you’ve already consumed all you could find so you write it because duh, more content might ignite back the fire please, or you haven’t found yet someone to say it how you want to read it) vs what I simply call 

 exorcism writing (the kind of free therapy exercise when something is bugging the heck out you and not leaving your mind so you put it down to words and then let them fly free, instead of trapping them on a diary you’d just return to read and start the vicious cycle all over again)

5.1.1) and your exorcism stories become more popular than the stories you want to read, because at the end of your raw ranting exorcism you managed to write something that would end up falling within mainstream tropes. Which just makes you sad because those were not the result of love and planning and endless hours of writing and editing that you put in your other stories.

6) I’m not writing fan fiction to be an educator, it is possible that my day job is being an educator, but unless I’m there writing textbooks, as a writer it is not my responsibility to teach the reader something that has to be authentic, realistic and a good practice. I’m just here to tell a story.  Or are you really telling me that you watch superheros movies and series and expect them to appear outside your window? If you just laughed then why are you looking at fanfic smut with the expectation of finding a more interesting and alternative way to have a sex ed lesson? If you subscribe to the school that a story has has to make sense... Let me ask have you ever read some of the greatest literature works like Frankenstain, Moby Dick, The Hobbit, Journey to the center of the Earth, Alice through the looking glass, Aeneas, if you did and subscribe to “fiction as to make sense” then please please enlighten me I’m rady to sit back and hear all the points you can make how any of those are realistic representations of how things go. If you  says that those are just stories told oh so long ago... Lets pick more recent ones, the Harry Potters books, Goosebumps, Twilight, The Shadowhunters Chronicles, 50 shades of , all those are listed as fiction  which yes sadly too many used as a portrait of theme touched in there as realistic because the story was not set in a fantastical world and made the mistake of treating a work of fiction as a documentary... Sorry people I’m a writer, choosing the right words matters, words meanings and definitions matter please  learn to think critically, and learn your words, there is a difference between fiction and documentary  6.1) At the same time it might be that I am the kind of writer who loves to add factually authentic things in my writings, someone who actually had spent hours and hours on research to make sure that what they have been writing is not utter and complete made up rubbish, and that’s ok too. I do not expect readers to assume it is correct or that it is purely made up, and if someone is curious they could use the comment to ask a question, I’ve never turned out a curious question, even when it was difficult to answer it

7) Just because I am writing about something, it doesn’t mean I support it...  Again those are stories, not a scientific report on a lab experiment, I can write about abusive relationships, doesn’t mean I support them, I could write about self harm or depression, doesn’t mean I am encouraging those behaviors, in fact those usually come with a Trigger Warning, why? because a reader should have the option to walk away from what should be just a moment of pleasure and relax, not finding themselves triggered because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise of what was going to come in a story posted on the internet... 8) This far I’ve personally chosen to not push for comment, no beg necessary, I decided years ago to be the kind of self centered bad ass who writes for themselves, who’s not going to dangle the promises of more chapters in exchange for comments, I dislike the practice, and I find too exhausting shouting left and right hey hey I’ve written this read it read it... So I do get why my stories do not have such a large audience, it doesn’t help I’ve actually posted way less than what I’ve written over the years. I do welcome comments, though I have no clue on how to respond to short ones, or a single emoji/<3 to all chapters to those I end up answering only to the most recent one of that person and thank for their support. Longer comments are easier to answer because it gives me something to say back or comment/thanks for, though it becomes weird for me when someone speculate on future developments in what they wish to see, and since I’ve recently adopted the policy of posting only completed stories (even for the chaptered ones that will not be posted at the same time, the number of total chapter is not an estimation it is exactly the number of files I’ve divided the story into for reasons) because I do know whether something of that sort will happen or not, and I don’t want to put someone out of my story if they are too invested in see what they imagined happen... Though as I do write stories I’d like to read I’m quick to encourage aspiring writers to feel free to take that what if and work with it, just to please mention that my story inspired theirs and that I’d love to see what they come up with. Constructive criticisms, I do not have a beta for most of my works, I do not work too well depending on other people’s time, I confess even in the past I received criticisms that were not constructive if we push the boundaries and call those criticisms rather than just plain old complains, which is sort of the reason why I stopped explicitly encouraging communication. Because I do expect respect, you don’t know anything about me or what I believe in, you might make some guesses from my profile because I haven’t been shy and pretty open on them, but I won’t accept being personally attacked or talked to in a disrespectful manner just because you didn’t like what I wrote. I have no problem accepting criticisms, as long as they are criticisms and not just whining. You cannot come to me with “I hate your story” and leave it at that, you already took the time to express your opinion instead of simply walking away, the least you can do is explaining why... Otherwise I seriously don’t get why you wasted both of yours and more importantly my time and energies... From the POV of a spoonie reader who barely has the energy to read: 1)  Ao3′s Kudos are a life saver that allows you to show your appreciation (even if you are allowed only one as registered user) with only a click (and some times even that click takes so much out of you) instead of relegating you to invisible reader, barely visible number (*coughs*ff.net*coughs*)  or forcing you to make a story a favorite/followed 

2) Comments are the source of anxiety, because you might want to show support but would they get that or would it sound strange? will the author understand that a a ghsafdgsakdjfh (read: key smash) happened with excitement and love and you’ve no other words to express it? 2.1) also trying to put your support in words when you are in your pj cozily being a blanket burrito and reading from your phone in bed because there’re no more spoon left for the day it’s hard 

3) The author asked for R&R, or welcomes comments and constructive criticism. You loved the story enough to spend energies to

point out things that were plain plot hole or downright inconsistency or lose ends, pointing out botched translations from your own mother tongue and offering correction that were not google translated, in ao3 case pointing out lack of some appropriate tags, which would have 1 improved your story’s visibility and 2 allowed the reader to choose whether they wanted to read it or not both points that would have benefit you as author...

Only for the author to react: 

- badly with a why are you such a nitpick hadn’t anyone told you that you should just stay silent if you have nothing nice to tell me? - Excuse me you’re the one asking for my opinion not my adoration, I gave you exactly what you asked for, if you cannot handle your work being nitpicked or the holes in your plot being publicly poked then there’re fabulous people called Beta reader who will give you the needed dose of though love in private get one..

- badly with a don’t like don’t read -  legit reader’s counter point is  I wouldn’t have read it if you had given me a way to know then what I discovered now  [personal addendum, on a not that well low energy day it takes me less about 3 mins and half to read 1.5K words don’t came at me on your 1k long story and tell me I could have stopped reading when I noticed it wasn’t that good for me...I was done with it before I could get any warning]

- dismissively because a meet cute  clearly is an AU  - Bless your heart if you need me to point out to you that there is a difference between an Alternative Universe (AU) and a Canon Divergence and the fact that   meet cute is a trope  which in fandoms usually implies different circumstances within the fandom’s canon world  of the first meeting between the characters in the main relationship but doesn’t automatically include different premises for the character example: 

in canon: characters from a magical supernatural fandom one a wizard with magic, one a fighter with superhuman speed and holy weapons, in their first meeting the fighter saved the wizard’s life. 

in a meet cute:  a wizard and a fighter with superhuman speed and holy weapons meet in the middle of the forest where the fighter was hunting for food failing miserably and the wizard took pity on the fighter and offered to share their dinner, if the fighter dared to step inside the wizard’s home

in a No Power/Human AU meet cute: where there is no magic, one of the two is a barista who uses flirty coffee jokes lines to call the other’s person order, and finally discover they are an accountant so instead they start using math puns to get the accountant’s attention. 

Those are all valid stories but as an author don’t came at me believing that just because you mention a trope that is enough to distinguish between the 2° and 3° examples, or that having mentioned the trope gives you the standing to look down at me if I do have my own reasons that you do not know about  for wanting to read only stories like the second pitch and get upset but still tell you in a polite way that there are missing tags in your story, especially when you’ve falsely advertise your 3° like pitch as if it was a 2° one and I get upset and let you know about it and do so with the curtesy of signing it with my name rather than leave an guest/anonymous comment 

- shrugging off issues with the tags with a Oh but I’m bad at tagging  -

then I have 3 things to say to you buddy one) that’s not an excuse if you haven’t learnt how to do it yourself get a beta, get a friend, read more and compare what your story tells with a similar one and how that one is tagged, there’re ways Ignorance is not an excuse; 

two) you can’t claim you’re bad at tagging but then refuse to listen when someone is pointing out to you more tags for your story, dud learn how search engines work, searching by tag is basically having a filtered search, the more tags your fit your story the more venues your story can appear in reader’s search for something to read... which means visibility for your work, are you really telling me that you dislike to have that and would prefer less people reading what you post? then sorry but I think you’re doing it wrong and should get a diary instead, not post them on the internet.

addendum: still claiming to be bad at it after having posted over 40 stories and all posted in recent times in the span of a couple of months, just suggest you lack the intelligence to learn how to do things. Which only encourages me to never ever get close to your works, certainly to never promote or share them if not actively discouraging my friends from spending their time on them.

three) and guess what?  there is a frikking I'm Bad At Taggingtag for that too!!!

As a reader I might be ranting in this post, but the long effect of those is a growing apathy and increased unwillingness to spend my energies for commenting unless I’d really really really really liked or loved a story, or I have something more than a one liner to share, which while I intellectually know it might be unfair to let the whole pay for the disrespect of few, my own survival instinct is glad I’m not spreading myself even thinner...

truthful disclaimer: in all fairness it has been my experience, that those reactions usually come from authors with already quite few stories or a decent word count out there. 

New authors are still very much enthusiastic and happy about even the smallest crumbs of recognition or encouragement, which in return is lovely because it recognise that my own time and energy as reader are worthy, that it does take effort to share an opinion or encouragement or suggestion.

4) The author might never know how that day I posted that single emoji, or two character <3,  it was one of those bad days when even opening a small water bottle to swallow down the painkillers was too much, when using a finger to scroll down the page to reach the end of the story had wiped out more energies than I could really afford and yet I still pushed myself to leave a sign that I was there and appreciated their story

5) readers should be allowed to have the “if you thought writing was hard, try commenting other people words” tag...  because sometimes especially on older platforms (yes ff.net I’m looking at you) as a reader I can’t find the energies to wipe up something to say so I become a silent invisible reader. And sometimes it’s really that I am able to stand only stories with certain characteristics, personally for example I do not have the emotional fortitude to read more a certain amount of Work In Progress at the same time across multiple fandoms because my brain can’t recall all the details and I might not feel to rereading the story from the beginning every single time there is a new chapter... 6) Maybe it’s because I’m way out of my teens, maybe it’s because even in my teens and before stories were my safe place, my escape, I do not expect things to be factually correct in stories, but I am a logic driven person, I will see those plot holes and I might even poke through 'em if I find your story good enough that I feel it would be a pity not pointing those things out. You cannot tell a classic vampire story (not the twilight kind of sun sparkling vampires but the sun burn me to ashes kind) and have your group of vampires prancing about at noon of a clear summer day without some sort of reason for that to work. I promise you, I’m not picky, I will accept ridiculous reasons like they were standing under and umbrella covered from head to toes and none of their skin was exposed to the sunlight, but do put the effort to give me a reason why I should believe it was intentional, or do not cry and complain if I do decide to point out dude you’ve normal vampires that are sunbathing and did not become piles of ashes that’s not plausible... 7) Stories are just that, something to listen to, they don’t have to have a moral for them to be worthy of being shared, they don’t have to be a mirror  of your thoughts, or they could be a mirror of your beliefs, and if I am commenting on them I’m commenting on the story itself not your connection to it. And I do need you to advertise in advance if there’re things that might be triggerish, because what might be  just a mental exercise of stepping outside your shoes, if not done might result in me walking into a panic attack while maybe I was just recuperating for one and trying to find comfort or a distraction. While I as a reader cannot know you author and where you come from, unless you want to make an ass of u and me do not assume you know where I am or what path I’m walking in my life as a reader.  8) I despise people telling me what to do, especially if I didn’t ask for an opinion... If someone (who doesn’t have an economical or authorative position over me) demands me to do something the chances I’ll be do it, especially if I was going to do it before, become nil instantaneously. I’ve been running and lurking in writing circles and fanfictions for closer to three decades at the time this is being written, and from the very beginning I found disgusting and deplorable the practice some authors adopted of bargaining reaching certain numbers of comments/kudos in exchange for the next chapter. I can respect an author saying I don’t want to get this or that, but the final result is that most likely I would walk away without commenting even if it would have been a story I would have otherwise supported. There’re few authors I do know personally, at least superficially through other channels, that have this kind of disclaimers and I still comment. But that’s because I have an appreciation and will to support the person themselves who also happened to be authors. 

[itchapter3]

Here it is, my gift for this year’s It Fandom Secret Santa

Ao3 Link (x)

My Secret Santa was @dark-alice-lilith​ I hope you like it! I used the prompt for college au/staying in the dorms over break with the paring eddie/richie.

@itfandomsecretsanta​

The door opens and a brief gust of wind bursts through as a giant shapeless blob of coats, scarves, and reusable shopping bags shuffles in. Eddie looks up from his laptop screen to see this before it disappears behind the barrier that separates the dorm rooms’ shared kitchen from the laundry room.

Going back to the work in front of him Eddie decides to ignore the interruption until-

“Fuck!”

More shuffling, the sounds of containers being stacked and moved around then, once more with feeling.

“Fuck…”

Eddie closes his laptop with a sigh and prays that this is not a huge mistake.

“You okay in there?”

Some more shuffling, then an actual human being emerges from behind the wall.

And… he’s actually kind of cute Eddie’s traitorous mind notices. Beneath all the layers of coats and scarves he’s a tall, dark haired, blue eyed dream with admittedly silly looking glasses, but bone structure that more than made up for it.

“Just debating on whether or not I should try and walk all the way back to the store to get an egg or just end it all here and now.”

“Well I’d appreciate you not turning the common area into a crime scene I really wouldn’t advise going out there again, I’ve already gotten three seperate warnings about the snowpocalypse happening outside.” Eddie gives the guy another once over, despite the hat the ends of his hair are still dripping with melted snow. Taking pity on him he continues. “I may have a carton of eggs in my mini fridge, if you tell me exactly what you’re attempting to do with them.”

The other guy smiles and holds up a bag of flour.

“How do you feel about chocolate chip cookies?”

Eddie smiles back.

“Hmm… I deem them… worthy of me walking to my room to get eggs.”

“Yes!”

His arm shoots up in victory.

Eddie grabs his keys and laptop and by the time he looks up from that there is an arm holding the door open for him. He nods and leads the way.

The guy follows him, mostly quietly, though he does hum a few notes along the way.

“Eddie.” He says as they both reach the dorm room.

“Yes?”

“I just realized we never actually introduced ourselves.” He says, pointing out the name tag still taped to the door. “I’m Richie.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie feels like hitting himself over the head, he just basically invited a total stranger into his room. At least he seems nice enough, has a nice enough name, although it seems a little familiar for some reason. “Nice to meet you, Richie…”

He unlocks the door then, in a sudden moment of clarity whips around with an accusatory finger pointed at-

“Richie!”

“Eddie!” He tries to mirror back, but Eddie just narrows his eyes at him.

“You- You were the one that started that snowball fight last week!”

He can remember clearly now the last time he heard that name, an exasperated ‘ Richie! ’ yelled from the quad between the dorm’s two halls during finals week just before the sounds of projectiles being thrown and the window shaking crack of one hitting his own started up.

He had looked outside at the time, but all he could make out through the fog was two figures mercilessly pelting each other, alone. It would have been pretty funny had it not completely thrown off his concentration on his online Intro to Psych final.

“Guilty?” He gives Eddie a crooked grin, which shouldn’t be cute, it should be annoying right now!

“I was going to bargain for it later, but I’m officially staking claim to half of the cookies since you almost broke my window!”

Richie just nods.

“That seems… a fair and worthy payment.”

“Good, because it is.” Eddie shoots back.

He throws the laptop on his bed and goes for the fridge underneath it, pulling out a half-dozen carton of eggs.

Richie is scanning the various movie and band posters around the room with appreciation when he looks up and Eddie feels an excited dip in his stomach despite himself, he’s pleased that Richie seems to have similar tastes as him.

“Got ‘em” He says.

Richie smiles.

“My hero!”

He hums, more happily on the way back to the common area, until he clears his throat.

“So, not to sound ungrateful but who the fuck keeps eggs in a dorm room? Aren’t those specifically made to hold beer and like… a jar of pickles you only open if you’re extremely high?”

“I am feeling the strangest sense of pity for your roommate right now.”

“Don’t, he’s a monster.” He says with a fond tone that makes it obvious he’s joking.

“Well, if you must know I don’t completely trust the cleanliness of the cafeteria and scrambled eggs are pretty much the only thing I know how to make.” Truth be told since moving out he’s probably been living on way too many frozen meals than is completely healthy, but that’s still better than getting salmonella from dodgy cafeteria food.

“That… is fair enough. I once picked up a spoon from the bin that had a piece of lettuce just full on stuck to the side of it.”

“And if I hadn’t already blacklisted it, that story alone would be enough to keep me from going there.”

“That’s exactly what my roommate said when I told him! You’ve got to meet Stan the man, Eddie!”

Eddie nods agreeingly, but something makes him want to take Richie up on that offer. He also really wants to introduce Bev to him, there’s just something that makes him feel like they would get along like a house on fire.

Once they’re back in the kitchen they start up cooking and chatting. It’s easier than Eddie expected to keep up a conversation and it turns out they have a lot in common, classes, comic books, taste in movies. Eddie measures as Richie stirs and soon enough they’re getting close to done.

“Ugh… my mom always makes this look so easy.” Richie looks at the recipe, pours a little more flour, directly from the bag, into the very sticky dough, and looks at the recipe again.

Eddie hums to himself, not having experience with either baking or watching his mother bake, but happy to watch the trial and error.

“Okay, I think it may be good now.”

Eddie looks over, and it definitely looks like cookie dough, hopefully it tastes like it too.

“Looks like it.”

As the cookies are baking Eddie hears a beep from the other side of the room and remembers why he had been in there in the first place.

“Wait!”

Eddie rushes to the dryers and pulls out a pile of soft fabrics. When he gets back he hands one over to Richie who takes it immediately before he even realizes what it is.

At the recognition he moans, pressing the dryer-warmed blanket to his face.

“I literally owe you my life now, Eds”

Eddie laughs at the muffled praise.

“I forgot I put those in there, I usually put them in on ten minute cycles just to keep me warm while I’m working.”

“Mmmm,” He finally removes the blanket from his face, instead draping it over his shoulders like a cape. “So you always spend the holidays here? This is my first time, it’s deader than I expected.”

“Yeah, it’s really usually only me and the RA’s around here. So, why did you decide to stay here instead of going home for break this time?”

“Eh, didn’t have much of a reason to go home, I mean, my family’s Jewish but we don’t really celebrate, I usually just go over to my friend Stan’s house, but he abandoned me now that he’s got some new hot piece to bring home.” He sighs dramatically. “So here I am, abandoned and alone, luckily I’ve been at the mercy of a very generous and very cute stranger, so I have high hopes for not getting murdered in this ghost town of a school.”

Eddie laughs, a blush rising in his cheeks at the mention of him being called cute.

“Well, don’t hold your breath, if I wasted my eggs on mediocre cookies I have been known to strike out in anger.”

Richie lets out a whistle.

“Well, I didn’t take you for the vengeance type.” He says in what Eddie guesses is supposed to be a cowboy accent.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do then, partner.” Eddie drawls back at him, making him laugh.

When Richie sobers up he speaks again.

“You should come help me eat these in my room. Stan’s got this mondo TV with Netflix built right in! We can watch all the classics, pretend like we’re having a real Christmas!”

“I thought you were Jewish?”

“And I am selflessly putting that aside for you today, Eddie. Think of my sacrifice and then say no to my face.” He makes a face which must be his ridiculous attempt at puppy dog eyes. “Hmmm?”

Eddie lets out a laugh despite himself.

“Fine, fine. Only because of the sacrifice you’re making though, I live to see you suffer.”

Soon enough, the oven timer beeps and Richie pulls out a baking sheet full of perfectly browned, sweet smelling, chocolate chip cookies. Eddie burns the tip of his tongue, but declares them better than mediocre and they pack them up to head to Richie’s room in the other hall.

“Wow, your hall really gets into the holiday spirit… I’m actually pretty sure this is a fire hazard.” Eddie says as he takes in the canopy of white, red, and green lights hanging from every available surface.

“Yeah, I say blame Mike, he gets really into it and he’s somehow charmed all the RA’s into looking the other way when it comes to christmas lights.” Richie sighs fondly.

“I like it, we’d never get away with something like this in my hall.”

Eddie looks around, eyes bouncing from the perfectly arranged strings, overlapping and entwining with others. It really is a beautiful scene, more festive than he imagined ever seeing, and on campus no less.

“I guess you’ll have to come over here more often then, you should see what Mikey does for Easter!” He grins.

“I might just have to take you up on that.” And Eddie meant it, honestly as much as this break had taken a turn for the better he couldn’t wait until it was over so he could meet Richie’s friends, and introduce his own in turn.

Once inside Richie’s dorm, Eddie took a minute to take it in. It’s a lot bigger than his own since it’s a double, which he knows is shared with Stan, and the two sides could not be more different. One is meticulously organized, dorm standard furniture in the pre-approved configuration, bed made to what Eddie guesses would be military standards, textbooks stacked cleanly on the desk, the few personalizations seemed to be a few bird posters and brain teaser puzzles scattered around.

“I told you Stan’s a nerd!” Richie calls, noticing him looking around.

The other half looks more lived in, much more lived in. It’s darker, the walls are almost completely covered in posters and the dark blue plaid bedspread, which is not anywhere near made up, gives it a grungy sort of look. Eddie knows before he even processes it that this side must be Richie’s, and he takes his time looking over the little details that make it his. He’s got books and binders in a pile that honestly looks like he just turned over his backpack and let things fall where they would. The posters are mostly bands, David Bowie, The Cure, Nirvana, and a few that Eddie doesn’t recognize, must be newer ones by the look of them, he’s also got tickets from shows he’s been to taped up between the posters, mostly concerts but a few musicals and even one for a local drag show.

Eddie also notices the rather large TV set up against the far wall so that it can be seen well from either bed.

Richie must have been busy while Eddie was snooping because when he turns around from looking at the TV he's got the remote in one hand and about half of the cookies they made on a plate in the other.

“Pretty sweet right?” He says, motioning for Eddie to take a seat on the bed.

Eddie nods.

“After you.”

Richie obliges, putting the plate down so he can climb up on the messy bed. He pulls the pillows up to the head as he gets himself comfortable, on top of the duvet but under the blanket Eddie had given him.

Eddie follows him up, sitting with his back up against the headboard and looks down at Richie.

“Well, what are we watching?”

As Richie rattles off the different services Stan has built into the TV and Eddie just hums along and let’s Richie choose Netflix to start while he tries to focus on the words he’s saying rather than the warmth of him lying so close. Eddie’s a little afraid if he opens his mouth to talk he’ll scream out loud about how he’s sitting in Richie’s bed right now . Richie who is very cute and very nice and even pretty funny and has friends who sound pretty great too who he can’t wait to meet, and now he’s thinking about how much Bev would like him and-

It’s a lot, Richie’s a lot. But Eddie kind of likes that about him.

After Eddie’s vetoed three separate hallmark-esque rom coms, and Richie’s vetoed an admittedly pretty horrible looking movie about cgi kittens they land on Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer which Eddie has never seen and Richie argues that that in itself is a crime.  

After that’s over they decide to continue on with the series and somewhere around The Year Without Santa and Frosty the two of them conk out, the comfort and warmth lulling them asleep in Richie’s shared bed.

Richie wakes up first.

“Eddie...Eds!” He gives him a little shake as the credits music pours into the room.

He’s close enough that he can see Eddie crack an eye open.

“Mmm, lemme get your glasses.”

Richie doesn’t have time to process that because Eddie is turning around in a sleepy, cat-like stretch, reaching over the bed to where Richie really can’t see, but knows that his bedside table sits. Then he hands over the glasses and all at once Eddie comes into focus, his hair is sleep-ruffled, his eyes are still not-quite awake, there’s a red splotch on his face from where his hand must have been pillowing it, and all Richie can really focus on is how many freckles he has on his nose.

It takes Richie a minute but he realizes, once his vision is completely back to normal, that Eddie is staring at him too. His wide brown eyes are now locked onto his.

“You lookin’ at the zit on my nose?” Richie glances at him sideways before pushing himself completely up to face him. He presses a finger to the tip of his nose. “Just like Rudolph, huh?”

“I like Ruldolph! I think he’s cute…” Eddie huffs, a blush rising on his cheeks as well.

“Ohoho! I had no idea you were into beastiality, gotta say, Eds, you keep a man on his toes.”

“Shut up.” He warns.

Richie grins, he’s quickly finding that the more riled up he can get Eddie the better.

“I mean, does this thing of yours extend to Bumble, or-”

Eddie puts his warning into action and presses his lips to Richie’s, directly shutting him up.

Richie melted into the kiss, Eddie’s soft and warm against him, and he can taste the chocolate from the cookies they made together. It’s nice and sweet and a little feisty just like Eddie, but it’s also shorter than Richie would have liked, he thinks, as Eddie breaks the kiss with a heavy breath.

“I’m so glad I decided to stay here over break.”

Eddie grins, and the way he does tells Richie he is too.

[letstalkaboutsebbaby]

Changing Habits

When she gets a big role with an action franchise, Camille has to make some improvements and training with coach Lance might be exactly the changing she needs.

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Camille Thompson

Author: Deb @letstalkaboutsebbaby / @letswriteaboutsebbaby

Rating: nc17

Author’s Note: I would change the movie plot if I have to as a way to make it fit my story.

The reunion was not taking the road Camille predicted. After being casted for the most promising franchise as the leading woman, the reaction from her crew was far from what she expected. The room is filled with discussions about her and yet Camille feels like the point is being totally missed. No one even congratulated her. All she got was a hug and a glass of champagne; after that, her manager proceeded to show her a plan for the next months and it wasn’t an easy one. 

Swinging her leg and staring at the tip of her scarpin, she ignores the buzzed words around her. Camille starts to imagine herself entering a room full of people she likes - grandma, dad, her neighbours Mrs. and Mr. O’Donnell, her stylist, the girl from the coffee shop across the street, her friends - all of them with big smiles on their faces and throwing cute heart and star shaped little papers on her.

The nice scene is interrupted by her manager. “She needs a trainer”

“I don’t need a trainer I can just go to the gym more often” she express in a half statement, half mumble sentence.

“No darling, you need a trainer. you need someone to control everything, from your food to your sleeping schedule, because you’ll be the star of this franchise and this is a hack of a role. You need to be in your best possible shape and this will have a play in your personal life for at least 6 years. It’s not the kind of thing you can cover by going more often to the gym” he gives a big sigh and the frustrating tone increase “That makes me question if she’s really ready for a step a big as this one”

Her manager, Edward Moore, stands from his big chair and goes to the door, a clear sign that the reunion is over. The crew walks behind him till they’re in front of the elevator, where he turns back to look at her, a hand in her shoulder.

“I’ll get you the best coach one can have and you’ll do anything she says, do you get it?”

“Yes, sure. I’m sorry, I know you looking out for me, Ed” she gives him a little smile and enters the elevator with her stylist and mother, the later waiting for the doors to close before scolding.

“Do you really think that to get a role as big as this one and do a 3 part blockbuster is like a walk in the park? You’re acting like a brat, Camille!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just want to celebrate a bit before starting all this planning”

“Let’s have a dinner, ok? Give Judy a call and come over tomorrow, I’ll make sure dad and Scott comes home early”

“Okay, thank you, mom!” she hugs her mother and kisses her cheek, bouncing out of the elevator as soon as the doors are opened “Are you coming with me?”

“No, darling, I’ll go home. Make sure you rest and let me know if you want to take someone else to dinner. Do you want a lift?”

“No, thanks. I’ll pass by the coffee shop and maybe the library on my way there, talk to you later, mom” she kisses the woman again and turns to her stylist “You’ll go, right Hanna?”

“I would love to, thanks”

“Great, see you girls tomorrow night!”

Everyone told her she should go to Los Angeles, but the young woman loves New York so much! She would miss walking around the streets and watch people passing by, thinking about her character or some new book she’s reading while the noise of the city box her inside her own world. Besides, her family is here and she can’t be far from them more than she already has to.

After a quick visit to the bookstore and a fine chat with Catherine from the coffee shop, she gets home with a big cup of iced cinnamon dolce latte, a new book and a regret - she should have put on some flats; she loves her high heels but it’s not the most comfort shoes to walk around. Taking them off by the door and leaving the coffee over the kitchen counter top, she walks to her room to get something to tie her long black hair.

Camille adores her flat. It was the first thing she bought once her contract with a big brand gave her a substantial amount and more stability. It made her feel successful and mature to be on her own place. Everything around has a meaning, a memory to it and adds to a secure and comfy environment where she feels at her best.

The sound of the phone ringing brings her back to the open living area “Ed?”

“Camille, are you home?”

“Yes, I just got here, why?”

“I have your coach. It’s the perfect solution and I want to introduce you two, can we pass by?”

“Sure, yep!”

“Okay, be there in 10”

That gave her time to refresh herself a bit and change clothes, finishing her drink before she hears the doorbell. 

Now there’s two things she wasn’t prepared for: first - she wasn’t prepared for a man. Ed said a ‘she’ when he mentioned a coach back in the office. Second - she wasn’t prepared for how incredibly handsome he is.

“Hi. Come in.” she says after what she perceived as two hours of silence and staring. 

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Lance” 

“Lance, I’m Camille, please, let’s sit” she closes the door behind them and walks them to the couch, sitting by the chair in front of them.

“So, Lance here is a gymnastic golden champion, he used to work with Alice. He’s a former coach and coordinator, I think he would be perfect to work with you” The jacket and sneakers made him look like a college guy, except the posture and body shape yells ‘man’.

“Oh, I didn’t recognise you, I’m sorry. I’m not really into sports” she timidly explained while thinking how he could easily be a model, the actress is used to see handsome men on her line of work, but this guy is just….something else.

“Not a problem. I’ve heard you got a lifetime deal, congratulations” his voice is nice too. Camille can’t help but wonder what would it be like to hear him ordering her around the gym.

“Thank you. Yes. It’s gonna be very physical tough and Edward wants me to keep a thigher working out program”

“It’s the responsible way to walk this road, Camille” her manager answers.

“I know. I’m sorry again, Ed. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful” she sincerely tells him. 

“Just remember I get your best interest at hand. And Lance here will help you through everything from now own. Prepare to work really hard to get into shape”

“I will, absolutely” she looks back to Lance, who was clearly contemplating something while watching her talk. “Just tell me what I have to do, I won’t even complain”

Lance clears his throat “Great. We’ll get to the gym and see what we should work on. Ed will give me your schedule and I’ll make a plan. I need to know what you’re eating and how is your routine. We’ll build it all from there”

“Okay, I can write it all down for you”

“Well, I just wanted you both to get to know each other, we still have some details to discuss” Ed says standing up to leave, followed by Lance.

“Meet me at the gym at 7, okay?”

“Yes, sir” the husky reply that gets to the coach ears wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say or how she wanted to sound at all. Nevertheless, his smirk made her not regret that at all.

[pvrestwolff]

---- pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name; but what's puzzling you is the nature of my game.

trident’s task 000; a detailed introduction.

---- basic information

full name: ekaterina mikhailovna aliena zamolodchikova-markovy. pronunciation: yeh-kah-ti-ree-nah // mik-hail-ovna // a-lye-na // zamol-ohd-chkova // m-ah-rk-oh-fi. meaning: ekaterina ( the name ekaterina is a russian name, the meaning is ‘pure’ ), mikhailovna ( the name mikhailovna is a russian name, the meaning is ‘daughter of mikhail’ ), aliena ( the name aliena is a belarusian and latin name, the meaning is ‘foreign’ or ‘stranger’ ), zamolodchikova ( the name zamolodchikova is a russian name, the meaning is ‘bold and dashing female’ ), markovy ( the name markovy is a russian and serbian name, the meaning is ‘of Mars, the god of war’ ) reasoning: ekaterina was named for a dear friend of natallia’s, while her first middle name came from her father, and her second came from natallia’s oldest sister anastasia’s middle name, the original heir to the throne. her last names are her father’s and her mother’s respectively. nickname(s): kati, kat, nina, erica. preferred name(s): ekaterina or erica, but she does not mind certain nicknames from certain people. birth date: january 11th 1988. age: thirty. zodiac: capricorn // rabbit yang fire or tiger yin fire. gender: female. pronouns: she/her. romantic orientation: platonipandemiromantic. sexual orientation: platonipansexual. nationality: belarusian, russian. ethnicity: caucasian, ashkenazi jewish. current location: tulach island. living conditions: mediocre, living in the tulach house. title(s): crown princess of belarus, princess, belarus’ heir, grand duchess of vitebsk, the demon queen of minsk (colloquial), 

---- background

birth place: the palace of snov, minsk, belarus. hometown: minsk, belarus. social class: royalty, upper. education level: masters degree. father: mikhail zamolodchikov-markovy. mother: natallia zamolodchikova-markovy. adopted?: no. sibling(s): two younger sisters and one younger brother. birth order: eldest. children: none. pet(s): daisy (maltese shih-tzu) and jay (labrador kelpie). other important relatives: tatiana nikolaevna ( cousin ), anya nikolaevna ( cousin ), ainsley dùghlas ( cousin ), alexander romanov-nikolaevna ( uncle ), nataliya kashkanov-nikolaevna ( aunt ), gavin dùghlas ( uncle ) and anastasia markovy-dùghlas ( aunt ). ( @tatiana-nikolaevna, @anyanik, @hrhxainsley ) previous relationships: charles flanagan ( first crush, murder accomplice ), grace thomas ( ex-girlfriend ), luka rossi ( ex-lover ) and unnamed prince ( ex-lover ). ( @classiciisms, @luka-rossi )

---- skills & abilities

physical strength: exceptionally strong for her size, she’s quite good at the salmon ladder and deadlifts. teamwork: she can and will butt heads with strong personalities or stupid people, but always works to reach the goal. talents: running, swordplay, fencing, knife handling, gun-handling, hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, ballroom dancing, adaptability, interpersonal skills, sketching, linguistics, communication, cryptography, symbology, and bdsm. shortcomings: intrapersonal skills, trust issues, manipulative. language(s) spoken: belarusian ( first language ), russian ( first language ), ukrainian, english, italian, french, gaelic, yiddish, hebrew, latin. drive?: yes for a car, yes for a motorcycle. ride a bicycle?: yes. swim?: yes. play an instrument?: piano, violin. play chess?: yes. pick a lock?: yes.

---- physical appearance & characteristics

face claim: lyndsy fonseca. eye color: blue, with a hazel ring around the pupil. hair color: honey brown hair type/style: thin and soft but abundant, naturally curly, normally sits at shoulder length but has gone uncut since being on the island. dominant hand: right, though when she was younger attempted to become ambidextrous. height: 5′4″. weight: 135lbs, but has lost muscle and weight since being on the island. exercise habits: every other day, early morning, erica would normally go for a 5km run outside. depending on her schedule, she will also practice either her fencing, her martial arts, go to the gym for strength training. the mornings she does not run she will spend her time doing yoga. skin tone: tan/olive. tattoos: a tiger on her left middle finger, a butterfly on the back of her neck, four birds on her left forearm, a sun and two stars behind her right ear, a tree on the right of her torso and hermes wings on the outsides of both her ankles. piercings: firsts, seconds, belly button, right ear helix. marks/scars: what look like straight and accurate cuts all over her body from her training, the scars are on her arms in particular, though they have faded and are not immediately noticeable. notable features: eyes, lips, hands, legs, ass. usual expression: resting bitch face. clothing style: neat blouses, skirts, heels, vests, a jacket, comfortable pants and the heaviest boots she can find. jewelry: none. allergies: none. body temperature: her body is warmer than most, and as a result environments feel much colder for her. diet: strict vegetarian, also tends to avoid eating eggs or smoking cigarettes that use castoreum when she can. physical ailments: short-sightedness, astigmatisms.

---- psychology

mbti type: entj-t ( the commander ) or istj-t ( the logistician ). //** technically untypable due to borderline personality disorder. enneagram type: type 8w7 ( the challenger, wing is the enthusiast ). moral alignment: chaotic neutral, borders on chaotic evil at times. temperament: choleric. element: earth. primary intelligence type: linguistic, logical, kinesthetic, musical. approximate IQ: 135, superior intelligence. mental conditions/disorders: borderline personality disorder, minor depression, obsessive-compulsive tendencies and sociopathic tendencies,  sociability: usually an observer, cold until she can trust people and often uses a façade and flattery to win people over for her own benefit. emotional stability: no. obsession(s): looking after her weaponry, literature and keeping organised notes on everything in her life. compulsion(s): neatness. phobia(s): autophobia, atychiphobia, atelophobia. addiction(s): currently -- nicotine, alcohol and caffeine. previously -- cocaine and mdma. prone to violence? yes.

---- mannerisms

speech style: while speaking in languages she is fluent in, ekaterina speaks quickly and smoothly, but while speaking in english, she can converse well but not as quickly, she may pause to find the correct word or misuse idioms, sayings or phrases. accent: a mix of belarusian and russian, which has softened after staying in english speaking countries long enough. quirks: smoothing down dog-eared pages of books, running her fingers along the rim of glasses she is drinking from, hyper-focusing on work that must be done until it is finished, giving people special nicknames and standing on top of buildings to stargaze. hobbies: exercising, fencing, martial arts, reading, playing piano, exploring new places, sketching, creating/using ciphers for her journals, assassinations and murder. habits: adjusting her glasses constantly ( when she wears them ), flexing her hands, switching between languages and sharpening her knives ( when she has them ). nervous tics: running her fingers through her hair, tapping her middle finger and her thumb together and disassembling and reassembling her guns ( when she has them ). drives/motivations: power, ambition, freedom, justice, duty and loyalty. fears: rejection, failure, losing her loved ones and being totally alone. positive traits: rational, adaptable and powerful. negative traits: sadistic, manipulative and ruthless. sense of humor: dark and sarcastic. do they curse often? yes.

---- favourites

activity: swordplay and fencing. animal: tigers and bluebirds. beverage: anything alcoholic. otherwise, coffee. book: the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald, frankenstein by mary shelley, do androids dream of electric sheep? by philip k. dick, the elenium by david eddings, the hogfather by terry pratchett, his dark materials by philip pullman, the wizard of oz by frank l. baum, alice in wonderland by lewis carroll, the illuminae files by amie kaufman and jay kristoff, the starbound trilogy by amie kaufman and meagan spooner and inkheart by cornelia funke. color: purple and gold. food: strawberries, or any type of berry. flower: tiger lily. gem: rainbow moonstone. holiday: new year’s eve. mode of transportation: motorcycle. movie: reservoir dogs, kill bill, jeux d’enfants, indiana jones, monty python, studio ghibli, anastasia, fight club, pulp fiction and the princess bride. musical artist: stevie wonder, the four tops, the supremes, phil collins, no doubt, gwen stefani, tatu, pvris, bastille, sia, the beatles, andrew belle, the temptations and fleetwood mac. quote/saying: “we know what we are, but know not what we may be.” scenery: forests. scent: petrichor, strawberry and coffee,  sport: fencing, lacrosse and soccer. television show: she doesn’t watch tv. weather: cloudy and mild.

---- attitudes

greatest dream: denying her claim to the belarusian throne and experiencing true freedom. greatest fear: rejection, failure, losing her loved ones, being totally alone and ascending to the throne. most at ease when: drinking, smoking and reading a book. least at ease when: powerless, weak and when she does not know something she feels she should. worst possible thing that could happen: her entire family is killed because of her actions. biggest achievement ( to date ): managing to maintain a semi-normal relationship with grace and reducing crimes in belarus through deals with members of organised criminal syndicates. biggest regret: allowing charlie to disappear from her life, manipulating the two princes and ruining her first betrothal. most embarrassing moment: ekaterina does not do embarrassing things. biggest secret: she finds special pleasure in killing those who deserve it. top priorities: self-preservation, freedom, protecting loved ones.

[bugheadjones-the-third]

title: Behind her Emerald Eyes

summary: He looks deep into his eyes, and even if they might have the same color, her eyes are nothing like his. Hers are softer. Warmer. There’s no evil behind her emerald eyes. Or Jughead pays the Blackhood a visit so he can truly understand his reasons.

a/n: this idea crossed my mind, and to be honest, I really like exploring all the consequences of Hal being the BH. I know it’s not fair to Betty and I should just make her happy, but the ideas won’t leave me alone! Hope you enjoy this one, and please, let me know what you think! (Also, this is unbeta- ed. Go easy on my mistakes, okay?)

“You can come with me, now, kid.”

The collected voice of the sheriff’s assistant brought Jughead back from where his thoughts had taken him since he arrived at the station. His lower back was starting to hurt due to the long time he had spent there, and it was only after he stood up and placed his hand on his head that he remembered he had left his beanie at home. He filled his lungs with air just to release it on a sigh, and soon, his blue eyes were set on the man waiting to guide him through the hallways he already knows so well.

The sound of his combat boots echoed across the thick walls, disappearing as they walked further from the entrance. It was a narrow hallway, with a few light bulbs to guide the way, and for the first time, the lack of light was making him feel uncomfortable. His heart was beating faster, his throat was getting dryer and he could feel the tension building up as they approached the chosen cell.

Maybe that was a bad decision, he thought. Maybe he should just go back to the other stuff happening in his life and simply forget about that stupid idea that crossed his mind earlier that day.

Maybe he should just leave. That was what his father would’ve told him, and even Betty would be telling him to walk away from that place, had she had any idea of what he was about to do.

Hell, the entire town would probably try to convince him to give up on that stupid idea, but Jughead couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it.

At least not until he could come face to face with Riverdale’s very, own demon.

“ You have 15 minutes, Jones.” The assistant stopped, his hand turning the doorknob to reveal a single, illuminated cell. “ Don’t piss him off. I’ll be right back to call you.”

Jughead nodded, swallowing dry as shivers ran down his spine. “ S-Sure, officer. I won’t take long.”

The raven haired boy took a couple of seconds to collect his thoughts before he finally walked pass the door that separated reality from Riverdale’s latest nightmare. He had his Serpent jacket on, and even if that would normally offer him some sense of safety, he felt like not even his entire gang would be able to protect him from that man that stood behind that glass wall.

The man whose past did not match the present and the man whose nice face did not match those gray, prison clothes.

The man who has always been nothing but gentle with him, and who now had innocent blood on his hands. After hosting so many barbecues around his neighborhood, that man was now responsible for so many deaths and so many tears around the whole town.

The Angel of Death, finally exposed and free from that ominous, black hood; just to reveal the darkness within Riverdale’s model family.

Hal Cooper— the perfect neighbor and the perfect husband— was standing there, all alone in a Hannibal Lecter kind of cell, his always-so-bright aura contrasting with the rough, incarcerated atmosphere. Had he not known the whole story, Jughead would never believe that man had done all those horrible things in the past few weeks, and more than ever, he would be fighting to prove the nonexistent innocence of his father-in-law.

He would fight for him, going against the detectives and the evidences simply to protect whatever was left of the town’s facade, and mostly, to heal the broken heart of the beloved, younger daughter. More than anything, Jughead wanted to tell Betty that her father was innocent and that he had not killed those people. He wanted her to be happy again in a way he knows she will never be anymore.

He just wanted to bring her father back in the same way she brought his.

But they both know better than to believe in the innocence of their small town again. Long gone are the days where things were exactly what they seemed to be and kids weren’t being murdered by the adults that were supposed to protect them.

Long gone is their fair Riverdale.

“ Jughead Jones… Of course you would come for a visit. Always snoopy around the adults’ matters.”

“ Well, you better than anyone know how this side of mine works.” He started, still not confident enough to look him in the eye. Jughead had his hands hidden inside his pockets, as he kept moving his fingers in order to keep his emotions under control. “ You taught me a lot about journalism, after all.”

“ Of course… The troublesome journalist that can’t leave things as they are. You really remind me of Alice, and that can be either a compliment or an offense depending on how you see it.” He started, a dirty smirk plastered on his face.” But journalism is not the only thing you two have in common, right? You snakes are always unpredictable no matter how long it passes.”

“ Serpents never shed their skins, after all. That’s what we do.”

“ Yes, of course… And yet, neither of you knew the identity behind the Blackhood. It took someone with a similar darkness to see behind the mask.” There was a sense of pride in his voice that made Jughead sick, and he figured he must have given that away, for Hal took an intimidating step closer to the glass wall. “ So, tell me, Jughead… How’s my daughter? How’s my Betty?"

Listening to the way her name rolled out of his tongue made a wave of anger strike him. She didn’t belong to him. Not to that despicable man who has done all those terrible things. His blood might run through her veins, but such thing means nothing even if she seems to believe it does. Betty might be his daughter, but she is her own person, with her own feelings, and eventually, her own darkness.

Even if he has always been respectful towards the father of his girlfriend, he realized that cordiality slipping away as the whole situation became clearer inside his head. That man— that murderer, did not deserve respect or simpaty anymore. He had been the source of all the pain his girlfriend went through lately, and even when he’s behind bars, he’s still there, tormenting her with his stupid predictions. He made her go through hell with that stupid blackmail and made her do things that will forever haunt her dreams.

He killed her own father, and now, if anything, he deserved to be treated like the murderer he is.

He is the Blackhood, after all.

“ She’s not yours.”

“ That’s what you think, kid. Just look into her eyes, and eventually, you will both know the truth.”

His fists clenched, his brows knitted in anger and a new feeling of confidence surpassed all the apprehension he had been feeling since he walked in. He took a step closer to the glass wall, leveling his blue eyes to Hal’s green ones and straightening his shoulders. A foreign sense of superiority took over Jughead, and now, his mind was completely set on the message he was about to deliver. “You see, Mr. Cooper—” He stopped, angling his head in a challenging way, a smirk now on his lips. “ Hal… No matter what you’ve brought yourself to believe in, Betty is not like you. She’s not an evil person who would be capable of stabbing children for a distorted ideal. Betty is—“

“ My daughter!” Hal cut his speech, clearly annoyed by the words coming out of Jughead’s mouth. “ She is—”

“ She’s free…” A side smile crossed his lips as a chuckle made its way out. His hand went to scratch the back of his neck, and it was as if his eyes were burning brighter than before. “ Betty is her own person. She’s always reinventing herself, and I honestly feel sorry for you since you won’t be able to see her becoming an incredible woman in her own way.”

“ Betty will follow her darkness! You don’t know how powerful and overwhelming it is! You’re not one of us.”

“ No, I’m not… And you’re right, Hal. I don’t know anything about her darkness. She doesn’t, either…. But I’ll be there for her whenever it becomes too much for her to handle all alone.”

“ What!?” He screamed, sarcasm present in his voice. “ Don’t fool yourself, Jughead! You can’t handle such things! You can’t control her darkness!”

“ But she can.”

“ Uh?”

“ You see, after all this time dating Betty, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about her is that she can do whatever she wants. From getting a drunk, gang member out of jail to… To loving the boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Dealing with her darkness will be a piece of cake, especially since she won’t be alone. I’ll be there and we will turn this page for once and for all."

“ You don’t know her, Jughead! You don’t know Betty!”

“ Yes, I do… I know my girlfriend, Hal. I know her better than you ever will.”

“ You insolent kid!” He said, his face turning red in pure anger as he punched the glass. His eyes— which were once so nice and kind— were now revealing his true identity as they were filled with anger and hatred, just as expected from a criminal so bloodthirsty like him. Apparently, words that were nothing but the simple truth for Jughead were driving him mad to the point where he was losing his composure. Hal refused to believe the one thing that controlled his life would not be passed through his gens to his beloved daughter. He didn’t want to believe his legacy wouldn’t last, and at that moment, that teenager— the same boy who had once shyly showed up to introduce himself as his daughter’s boyfriend— was destroying everything he had built up until now.

Jughead was using simple words to tell him that, while he rotted behind bars, his biggest fear would come to reality. Betty was not going to follow the same path he did, and that kid standing in front of him would make sure of that.

That kid…. The one he should’ve just ki—

“ Maybe you should’ve just gotten rid of me, Hal.” He smirked, provoking a shocked expression on the Cooper' s face. A certain pride took over him at that moment, and he couldn’t help but feel satisfied with such response from that man. At that moment, Jughead thought, he had already said everything he wanted to say to his father-in-law. Even if those were not the original words he had rehearsed in his head, he figured the sudden changes had been necessary given he path that conversation took.

It was not like he had initially planned on confronting Hal like that, but now there was really no turning back anymore. All the words trapped inside his heart had all been said, and perhaps, it was finally time to go home.

Time to go back to her.

“ I guess I’ll be heading out now, Hal. Thank you for your time.” He said, after what felt like an eternal silence, waving a hand and finally turning on his heels. Even if he was supposed to wait for the sheriff’s assistant, Jughead didn’t want to spend another second in that room facing that man. He knew the way out, and at that moment, he just wanted to get out of there.

His combat boots started to increase the distance between them, and if it depended on the raven haired boy, he would’ve walked out of the station without saying another word to anyone. He would leave that whole thing behind so he could focus on the good things that were to come for him now.

If it depended on him, Hal Cooper would become an unfortunate memory as soon as he crossed that door.

But before that, the criminal had one last question to ask him.

One last question before he was, at last, left behind.

“ Why did you even come?! Why are you here!?” Hal’s muffled voice came louder than he had expected, and at that moment, he realized how well that thick, glass wall worked on keeping the entire town safe.

The young Serpent, then, stopped, but his head didn't turn to meet the prisoner. The boy took a deep breath, and with all the calm in the world, he parted his lips. “ I just came to tell you that I’ll take care of her… You don’t have to worry, Mr. C… Betty will be fine, I promise.”

After that, Jughead didn’t really know what Hal was screaming at him, but he knew he couldn’t care less about the threats of a condemned man. He had more important things to take care of, and he had already wasted too much of his precious time with just a simple— and apparently useless— delivery to a worried father. He kept his hands inside his pockets the entire way, and as soon as the door closed behind him, the raven haired boy could feel his chest getting lighter with each step he took towards the exit.

Visiting the Blackhood had been harder than he had originally expected, for sure.

But at least, now, he could go home.

By the time he parked his bike, he figured the babies were probably asleep. It was already late for unexpected visitors, and he knew he could’ve— should've just waited another day to see her. Betty needed to sleep, too, and since she hadn’t really had the chance to do so in the past couple of days, maybe he really should’ve just rode off.

He really should’ve just followed his way back to the trailer, but before he knew it, her house was already in his field of vision. Standing in front of her porch, and now decided to follow up his impulsive idea, Jughead already analyzed all his options, and even if he could’ve just knocked on the front door or even texted her, the sight of Archie’s ladder outside gave the young Serpent a different idea that— if anything— was filled with nostalgia.

As clumsy as one can be, the raven haired boy did his best not to make a mess or anything as he moved that thing around the yards. While making his way up,  he also made a mental note to practice more so Alice wouldn’t kill him for breaking anything whenever he needed to sneak in or out. Knowing his mother-in-law, she would be mad with the simple fact that he was invading her daughter’s room, and for some reason, a terrified smile crossed his lips at the image of the elder Cooper holding a switchblade.

She still is a Serpent, after all. And now that she wasn’t even trying to hide that side of hers anymore, he knew she would be even more dangerous than before.

A chuckle escaped his lips, and for a moment, he could feel his heart warming up a bit at the new concept of family forming inside his head. They would all be even closer from now on, and he knew good things would come from that. Still, even if he was somehow feeling happy at that moment, Jughead felt his heart sadly skipping a beat when her room came to view. Even if all the lights were out, his eyes could still see her sitting on the edge of her bed, her shoulders down and a hand coming up to wipe the tears that were probably streaming down her cheeks.

The same tears that, lately, haven’t really stopped falling.

Seeing her like that broke his heart into millions of pieces, and even if he had had the best of the intentions when he decided to stop by to check on her, there was something inside his chest telling him to simply walk away and give her some privacy at that moment. Betty was going through a delicate situation, and moments alone— even if they might be, indeed, lonely— are also important for putting her thoughts to go back to their place. She was crying and she was vulnerable, and perhaps, he should just walk away and leave her to herself, at least for that night. Yes, it would be the right thing to do. Even if he just wanted to break her window and embrace her small body, Jughead decided to give her some time, opting, instead, to climb down those stairs and go back to the trailer.

She needed that time alone to let it all out, he figured, and by the time his feet touched the ground, he had already decided to leave.

But as soon as his phone vibrated inside his pocket with a new text, he realized that, perhaps, a moment to herself didn’t mean a moment without him by her side.

Betty: Sorry for sounding desperate, but… Can you come by?

He just needed to read the last part before he was once again climbing those steps in order to meet her. On his short way up, he felt his phone vibrating a couple times more, and after the third time in a row, he decided to take a look at whoever needed him so desperately at that moment. No matter what, though, he was not going anywhere. Not when Betty needed him the most.

He was ready to ignore whoever it was, but a soft smile came to his lips as soon as he saw that all the messages were from the girl herself. He read them all, but shook his head, not taking her words seriously.

Betty: Unless you’re busy.

Betty: Forget what I said, Jug.

Betty: It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Betty:Love you.

The next message never came, for he only saw her dropping the phone on her mattress in a surprised reaction when he tapped on her window. Her head turned immediately to face him, and as startled as she was, Betty wasted no time before crossing her room to let him in. He helped her open the window, and thanks to the street lamp, he could see her face twisting when the cold breeze invaded her room with him. He was quick to close it once he was completely inside, and when he finally turned to face her, Jughead was really glad for the message that prevented him from walking away.

He was happy to see her, for sure.

But if anything, her face told him she was in no condition to be alone. Not on that night.

“ Betts…”

“ Wow…. You were incredibly fast.”

“ I was already passing by. Are you—“

“ I’m glad you were.” She wiped another tear, trying to offer him a smile as she rushed more words. “ I missed you and I guess I felt a bit lonely… Silly me, right?”

“ No, Betty!” He said, taking her hands in his, caressing her skin with his thumb. “ Not silly at all. I missed you, too and I was dying to see you today. How have you been?”

She shrugged, bitting her lip as if to try to hold back more tears. “ I don’t know…. Going, I guess.”

A sigh escaped his lips, and carefully, he brought her closer, enveloping her in a hug. “ Come here.” His arms encircled her shoulders, and he felt her tears soaking his shirt. Betty was now sobbing in his arms, and if he were to be honest, the young Serpent was relieved to have her like that. Lately, the blonde had been holding back so much for her family— and even for herself— and he was glad to see her finally letting it all out. Sure, it wouldn’t solve all of her problems, but at least, it would help her sleep better that night.

Slowly, he lead her to her bed, helping her sit and finding himself a spot next to hers. Her head was still resting against his chest, as he was carefully running his fingers through her golden locks. He kissed her head, not moving his lips away immediately, just waiting for the time when she felt comfortable enough to tell him about her day. After all they went through, there were no more secrets between them, and it was safe to say the truth would come out, sooner or later, depending on how comfortable she felt with it. On that night, they spent a couple of minutes in a delicate silence, but at last, her emerald eyes were on his blue orbs, as the dim light coming from the street made her look serenely beautiful.

“ Thank you for coming, Jug.”

“ You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m here for whenever you need me, okay?”

“… Okay.” She nodded, swallowing her tears. “ Today was not a very good day, I guess…”

“ What happened?”

“ I...” She sighed, bitting her lower lips before continuing. “ I went out to check the mail box and there were these kids... It seems so silly right now, but they started pointing at me saying I was the daughter of the Blackhood, running away and screaming that they were going to die.”

“ Oh, Betts. Don’t listen to them. They’re just kids.”

“ But they’re not wrong, Jug. I am the daughter of the Blackhood! I scare kids and whenever I look into the mirror, I scare myself... I don’t even recognize my eyes anymore, Jug!” She placed a hand over her mouth, muffling the words that seemed to be the biggest lie of the world. “ I-I wonder if my eyes were the last thing all those people saw before he killed them. I think about that and I-I... I just want to rip them off!”

“ Hey, hey!” He said, cupping her face with his hands. His thumb wiped away the tears that were furiously falling, now, and as he held her closely, he looked deep into her beautiful, green eyes. If only she could see what he sees, she wouldn’t hate them at all. They’re so soft and full of hope. When they look at him so tenderly like they always do, they make him want to be a better person so she can always watch him and be proud of the things he’s doing. He loves those eyes— he loves her. And if anything, he wants her to love them as well. “ Betts, your eyes are not like his.”

“ Of course they are, Jug! They’re exactly the same.”

“ No, they’re not! I’ve see his eyes, Betty, and I promise you they’re not like yours. Your eyes are warm. They’re calm and they look so pure and sweet whenever you’re working on a new article for the Blue and Gold! God, your eyes… Betts, whenever you look at me, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. There’s no evil behind them. They’re beautiful.”

“ How do you know? How can you be so sure, Jug?”

“ Because even when you’re looking at your family photo, you don’t look at your father with hatred or anything like that. Even if you hate him, you still look at him with the tenderness of a daughter. Evil people are incapable of loving, Betty. And that’s not you, I promise. Okay?”

Tears were now falling flat on her sweater, as she kept looking at his own, loving eyes. Tears were probably stinging her own, emerald orbs now, and if he could, he would make all her pain go away in no time. He was really worried about her, for sure, but as she slowly nodded at his question, Jughead allowed himself to relax a bit. If anything, his words were always able to calm her down, and more than ever, he was glad they were also working during such ominous times.

She trusts him, and in the same way he believes her, she believes him with her whole heart.

If evil people are really incapable of loving, then she probably had nothing to worry about, for she loves him with all her heart. Betty is sure of her feelings for him, and for now, she chose to rely on them to get over her fears.

For now, even if the whole world was telling her she couldn’t run away from her father’s bloody legacy, she was going to use her love for him to prove them wrong.

“ Okay…” She whispered, her voice sounding a bit calmer now.

“ Good.” He whispered back, his eyes drifting to her soft lips moments before he leaned down to kiss her. It was a chaste, fast kiss, but it was enough to assure her that she was safe at that moment. “ Good.”

He was going to protect her. He was going to keep her safe, and whenever that darkness tries to return to torment her again, he will be there by her side to help her illuminate her own thoughts.

To help her look into her own eyes.

fin.

[redmetalsailor]

Guess Who Writes Fan Fiction

Yyyup. Aside from being an artist, I also dabble in fan fiction. It’s more of a side thing for fun and I’m not that great at it, but hey, I have fun and I hope you guys enjoy it. This is an FMA fic called “Helpless” I’ve been working on for quite some time and it still has a long way to go. I have four chapters on my AO3 account and am in the middle of a fifth right now. Anyways, enjoy the first chapter. 

Words: 1324

Rating: General Audiences 

“You know, I guess I never did tell you congrats,” Edward said, shoveling more food into his mouth. A refined spread of chicken, potatoes, bread, and various other side dishes were laid out before him. Thoughts of his morning lectures lay buried beneath mounds of calories.

           “I never expected you to,” Roy chortled, taking a sip of whiskey. “You’ve never been much for formalities. That reminds me, I never congratulated you on the new baby that’s on the way, Fullmetal,” He swirled his glass and watched the ice spiral. Ed was too busy eating to really pay attention, but he gave a grunt anyways. “I know I shouldn’t really call you that anymore, Ed, but you’ll always be Fullmetal to me.”

           “And you’ll always be the pain in the ass colonel to me, Fuhrer Mustang,” he grinned between bites, crumbs mounting on his shirt. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

           Mustang glanced down at the scraps left on his plate and shook his head slightly, his few gray hairs glinting in the light as he did. “Yeah,” he paused to think. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” One man’s smile was still ingrained in the back of his mind and a pang of guilt flashed across his face. Ed watched the pain in Roy’s face begin to fade as he spun the thin golden band on his left hand.

           “You know he’s beyond proud of you, too. Don’t ever forget that.” Ed’s comment brings a smile to Roy’s face again and he nods.

           “I know,” Roy clenched his whiskey tighter, “I just wish he could have been here.”

           “Edward!” The door burst open, interrupting the lunch between old friends. Riza stood in the doorway, winded, her eyes wide with concern.

           “You know, I would tell you to knock, but you stopped taking orders from me a long time ago, didn’t you?” Roy said, the corners of his mouth curling. Riza shot him a look that spoke for her. “Uh, sorry…”

           “What’s going on?” Ed’s heart started sinking. It had been years since the state needed him, so it can’t be that. He thought back to his teachings in class that week. I don’t think I said anything illegal in this week’s lectures. Perplexed, his brows came together. “Tell me what’s going on!” His hands slammed the table in unison, a loud thud shattering the tension on impact.

           “It’s Winry,” Riza stated bluntly. Ed’s heart hit the floor and his stomach leapt into his throat. He tried to articulate, but the words kept sputtering out as mere wisps. “She’s having complications with the baby. Edward, you need to go home right now. I’ve already made travel arrangements for you, you should be able to get back to Resembool by tomorrow night. Your train leaves tonight.”

           “That’s too long!” He objected loudly.

           “It’s the best I could do for you, I’m sorry.” Riza’s tone was apologetic and sincere, wrapped in comfort like honey.

           “You’re the goddamn Fuhrer’s wife! Mustang, do something!” Ed pleaded, tears in his eyes. I’ve lost enough family, I can’t lose her too.

           “Come on, Ed, you know my wife better than that. If she said that’s the best she can do, that’s the best she can do. I may rule this country, but I’m not a magician and neither is she. We’ll see to it you get home in plenty of time. I’m sure your kids will help Winry just fine if she needs anything. You have nothing to worry about, Fullmetal.” Roy’s tone matched that of Riza’s, steeped in comfort.

           “You’re probably right, but…” Ed trailed off in thought. A million anxieties raced through his mind at once. Blunt reminders of the past pierced his very being; how him and Al felt when their mother fell ill. A father who just wasn’t there. The pain of losing their mom. He wanted nothing more in life than for his children to never have to feel the same pain this world had offered him. “I just don’t want to ever let Issak and Trisha down like my father let me and Al down.”

_______________________

Around the Same Time

Resembool

             “She just collapsed,” Trisha explained to the doctor her and Issak had called for. Winry laid in bed, struggling to breathe through her sleep. A grimace was plastered across her face while she grit her teeth. “We managed to pull her into bed and clean her up, but that’s about it.”

           “What else do you remember? Was she complaining of any pain? Any little thing you kids can remember will help,” prodded the doctor. He sat, perplexed, needing more information.

           “Mom started screaming and grabbing her side. There was a lot of blood.” Isaak was fixated on one spot on the floor, frozen in his chair near the foot of the bed.

           Winry was well in to the pregnancy with her and Ed’s third child. That information, accompanied with the blood, screams, and grabbing her side made for a disturbing conclusion. The doctor knew what had happened and did not want to have to tell these children their mother’s fate; an ectopic pregnancy. A death sentence for both mother and child in many cases if left untreated for too long. “Kids,” he stammered, “can you get your father on the phone for me?”

           “On it!” Declared Trisha. She promptly left the room to go to the kitchen where the phone was. A few moments later she returned to tell the doctor she couldn’t get her dad, but someone could deliver a message for them. The doctor nodded and got up to take over the phone conversation, explaining the situation.

           “Do you think there’s anything he’s gonna do for her?” Issak whispered, still staring. His eyes had moved to Winry now, watching her breath become more and more shallow. Her face remained contorted, though slightly less.

           “I don’t know, but I can tell you I’m willing to do anything to keep her okay till dad gets back,” Trish said with a smile in an attempt to put her brother at ease. She had taken an interest in the human body through her mother’s automail enthusiasm and studied some basic medicinal practices on top of automail tinkering. “I know enough to at least try.”

           “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. We can at least try!” Issak said, the life returning to him.

           “Issak, Trisha, you kids keep an eye on her until your dad gets here. Lots of water, make sure she at least eats something. Let her rest, alright?” The doctor began packing his things.

           “Yes sir!” Both the kids cheered in unison.

____________________

Later That Night

             “What is it, Alice?” A small black and white cat nudged at Trisha’s feet, meowing loudly. Her tail flicked furiously as she bit at Trisha’s pants, almost pulling her. “Alright, alright. I’ll follow you.” She put down the dishes she was doing and followed the fur ball.

           Alice led the way down the hall to Winry’s room and stood on her hind legs, scratching at the door before running off. Trisha’s heart sank as she burst through the door. Winry’s breathing was shallow, barely audible.

“MOM!” She cried out, rushing over to her.

Winry stirred, opening her eyes to see the fear in Trisha’s face. She smiled softly, bringing her hand to meet Trisha’s flustered expression. “Take care of daddy for me, okay?”

Her grip went lax and her tender hand fell with one final breath. Winry lay motionless, all the life gone from her face. No rise and fall in her chest. No pinkish hue to her lips. Nothing. Trisha screamed. And screamed. And screamed. She sat in a crumpled and frozen heap at the bedside.

“What is it? What’s going on!” Issak shouted, almost running past the door. His eyes grew big as the realization hit him. “Please don’t tell me-“

Trisha turned with tears in her eyes and nodded before choking out, “She’s gone.”

[massivedrickhead]

One More Year: Chapter 34

I know it's been a really long time. I'm sorry it's taken so long. I've had a pretty stressful few months and I've found writing really hard. I hope this was worth the wait and I hope you'll leave some comments or reviews or like or reblog

Fanfic.net

I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters

Chapter 34

Beca: Hey Chlo'. Haven't heard from you in a few days. Give me a text or a call when you get this xx

Beca: Hey. Me again. I miss you xx

Beca: Can you please reply? I'm kinda going crazy here xx

Beca: Please, just tell me what's going on? It's been like two weeks. Did I do something? xx

Beca threw her phone to the end of her bed with a huff of frustration. She'd been texting Chloe at least once a day for the last two weeks but she hadn't had a single response. She hadn't heard from Chloe since the last time she'd seen her, after their fight or whatever it had been.

She was going crazy.

Chloe wasn't answering texts, Skype messages, facebook messages, phone calls. Beca knew she must seem desperate but she didn't care. She was worried. Worried that Chloe wasn't looking after herself. Worried… Worried that she didn't want her anymore.

She'd called and text Aubrey and Jesse a few times, but neither of them had seen much of Chloe over the past few weeks.

"She just comes back to the dorm to sleep," Aubrey had told her, sounding as stressed as she felt. "She's always either in the library, the gym, or at rehearsal. She hardly speaks to me anymore." Aubrey had sounded close to tears.

She'd even called Chloe's parents, just to see if they'd heard from her. They hadn't. They were worried too.

Beca was so stressed out by it all that she'd even turned to her Mom for advice.

"Why don't you just drive down there?" Her Mom had said, over the phone.

"Because what if she doesn't want to see me?" Beca had replied, her stomach hurting at the thought.

"Well, I hate to say it Becs, but if she doesn't want to see you maybe you shouldn't be together," her Mom said. "I mean, she isn't answering your texts or calls or anything."

Beca pulled a face. "Why am I not surprised that your advise is to end the relationship?"

"I didn't say that," her Mom said with a sigh. "I'm just saying that from everything you've told me, it doesn't seem like this relationship is working."

"Our relationship is fine, Mom," Beca said. "I love her."

"I know, sweetie. But does she love you?"

After the phone call ended, Beca relayed everything her Mom had said to her dad, in the hope that he would offer some better advice.

Instead he had glanced at Sheila and said, "I hate to admit it but I think your Mom is right."

Beca left the room and went back upstairs, closing the door behind her and dropping onto her bed. She checked her phone and was unsurprised to find no new texts or calls.

Tears began pricking at her eyes. She wiped them quickly when she heard a knock at her door.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened and Sheila entered. Jasper squeezed past her and jumped onto Beca's bed and then sat on her lap.

"Hi," Beca said.

Sheila took a seat on Beca's desk chair and studied her through her glasses. She seemed stern. As if Beca was one of her pupils who she was disappointed with.

Beca didn't know where to look or what to say, so she busied herself scratching Jasper behind the ear.

"When did you last work on your music, Beca?" Sheila asked, eventually.

"Uh… I dunno, a few days ago?" Beca asked, surprised by the question.

Sheila raised her eyebrows.

"Okay… A week ago I guess," Beca said. Sheila still didn't say anything. "Why are you asking?"

"You haven't worked on anything in about two weeks," Sheila said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I pay attention to what you do and you haven't even been in your den since you last saw Chloe," Sheila said.

"Okay… and this is bad because?"

"Because for the last two weeks you've shut yourself in your room every day. Whenever you join us for dinner you just sit and stare at your phone, waiting for Chloe to text you back. You're supposed to be making demos to send out to record labels, yes?"

"I'm just taking some time off," Beca said.

"Sitting and waiting for her to text you isn't healthy, Beca. None of this is good for you," Sheila said, softening slightly.

"I… I just… I miss her," Beca said, terrified she was going to start crying. "And I don't know what to do."

"Well… I think you need to go and see her. You need to know where you stand," Sheila said.

"What if she breaks up with me?" Beca asked.

"Then she breaks up with you," Sheila said. "I know you're going to hate me for saying this but you're only 19, Beca. And I know it'll hurt, but you'll come through it. You can't go on like this."

Beca nodded, but she could already feel her heart breaking. The idea of not being Chloe's girlfriend anymore was more than she could stand.

"I'll drive up tomorrow," she said.

Chloe was not coping well.

Since the incident with the subway sandwich, she'd found it harder and harder to eat, and easier and easier to skip meals.

Aubrey would leave before her every morning because her classes started at 8am. She would leave Chloe some fruit or a power bar or something for breakfast. And Chloe would throw it in the trash on her way to class. She felt guilty, but it was easier than actually eating it.

Lunch was also easy to skip. Aubrey would ask Chloe what she had, and Chloe would lie about grabbing a salad or a sandwich between classes. Even if Aubrey didn't believe her, how would she check?

Dinner was the trickiest, and Chloe would usually cave and eat it with Aubrey and Stacie and the boys. She'd get a salad or soup from the dining hall and try and eat as little as possible, without drawing Aubrey's attention to it. Jesse and Benji would shovel burgers and fries and whatever else they could find into their mouths, and Chloe would always feel a pang of jealousy at how much they seemed to enjoy it.

Apart from evening meals in the dining hall, she only saw Aubrey and Stacie at Bellas rehearsals. She spent every other moment either in classes, the library, or the gym. She'd work out until late at night before going back to hers and Aubrey's dorm. Most times Aubrey would be asleep. Sometimes she'd be up, sitting at her desk and frantically typing away at her laptop. She would always stop working whenever Chloe came in, and would try and make conversation with her. But Chloe would always make an excuse about being tired or needing a shower. She felt guilty every time she saw the look of hurt on her best friend's face, but she couldn't talk to her.

She couldn't let Aubrey know how bad it had gotten. She had to remain in control of this one portion of her life, while everything else seemed to be spiralling out of control.

Her classes had become more and more demanding, and since she didn't share classes with Aubrey anymore, she couldn't rely on her to help her study. She had to read a new book every week and a paper every two weeks.

Bellas' rehearsals had also kicked up a notch. They had to be ready for their Christmas shows, followed by the ICCAs in New York. Alice had them rehearsing every day, and every mistake they made meant the whole group had to do laps around the auditorium.

And looming on the horizon, was Christmas. Chloe didn't couldn't begin to imagine how she was going to cope with Christmas this year. Even if Carol wasn't there, the rest of her family would be. And they'd all have to watch her fail once again at eating Christmas dinner.

But all this was nothing to the guilt she felt over Beca.

God, she missed her.

But she knew she couldn't see her. Couldn't even speak to her. She knew the second she heard her voice she'd break down crying. She knew the second Beca saw her, she'd see just how much she was struggling. She'd see right through any lie she'd try to pull.

She couldn't even bring herself to text her back. Her phone lit up daily with new messages, each one sounding more desperate than the last. But it had gone on too long now. Chloe couldn't just text her that she was fine but busy. Any message she sent would open the floodgates. And Chloe needed to keep them shut.

Beca's thumbs drummed against her steering wheel as she drove. She couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous to see Chloe.

Her stomach was turning, her hands slick against the wheel. Ed Sheeran was playing from her iPod, but even he wasn't helping so she turned it off.

She pulled into the parking lot closest to Chloe's dorm room and got out of her truck before she could change her mind.

She pressed the buzzer for Chloe and Aubrey's dorm room but got no answer. It was after 4pm so she assumed they'd be done with their classes. She walked down to the auditorium. She knew Bellas' rehearsals usually started at 5pm, so maybe she'd be able to catch her before she went in. Even if she just got to see her or a few seconds it would all be worth it.

But when she saw the redheaded girl walking towards the auditorium, it took her a second to recognise her. She seemed smaller, much smaller, than she'd remembered. Her hair was tired up in a loose ponytail, but didn't have its usual shine. And when she walked she kept her head down, eyes fixed on the ground, as if scared she might meet somebody's eye.

"Chloe!" She called out, making her way over.

Chloe froze and she looked up, her eyes locking with Beca's. If she was happy to see her she certainly didn't look it.

"Beca," Chloe said. "What are you doing here?" She sounded surprised but not in a good way. Beca knew immediately that she'd made a mistake coming here.

"I came to see you," Beca said, as if that should have been obvious. "You haven't answered any of my texts or calls or anything. I missed you."

"Yeah, um, I missed you too," Chloe said, looking at the ground. "Sorry about the texts my, um, phone broke, so… Haven't had the chance to get a new one yet."

"Chlo', are you okay?" Beca asked, taking in Chloe's appearance. She was definitely thinner. And her eyes kept darting around, refusing to hold eye contact. Her hands were clenched together. Beca instinctively reached out for them, to hold them, rub them, like she always did when Chloe was stressed out, but Chloe pulled them back as if Beca had burned her. "Chloe?"

"I'm fine," Chloe said, not even bothering to sound convincing. "I just… I need to get to rehearsal. If I'm late they'll make us do laps and-"

"Hey, can you just talk to me for like 5 minutes?" Beca said. Chloe let out a puff of air that could have been frustration. "You can't even look at me. I haven't heard from you in two weeks-"

"My phone broke-"

"You could have facebooked me. Or borrowed Aubrey's phone. Or something. You could have done something," Beca said. Her chest and stomach were hurting and she could feel tears threatening to spill out. "I've been losing my mind, Chloe. You just disappeared. Have I done something?"

"No," Chloe said. "It's not you, it's just… I've been busy. And… And I have to go to rehearsal. I don't… I don't have time for this."

"You mean you don't have time for me," Beca said, feeling like she'd just been slapped.

"I didn't say that," Chloe said, still not looking at her.

"No but that's what you meant. Isn't it?" Beca said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She looked at Chloe, waiting for her to do something. Anything. Waiting for her to tell her she was wrong. That she loved her. Waiting for her to hug her and kiss her and say she was sorry. But Chloe didn't do anything. She just rubbed at her forehead, like she was trying to get rid of a headache, and sighed.

"I have to go," she said.

Beca looked up at the sky and laughed, shaking her head as tears poured down her cheeks. Her heart was breaking, but she needed to know. She needed an answer. "Do you still want to be with me?"

Chloe finally met her eyes, and Beca saw her own pain reflected back in them.

There was a moment when Beca thought Chloe might come to her, but it was shattered when her phone rang in her pocket.

The second it took Beca to look down at her phone was all Chloe needed to turn around and walk away.

[eddiespaghettio]

got my heartbeat racing

“I’m pretty sure this is a fire hazard,” says Eddie, watching Richie warily, a superman print cased pillow clutched to his chest.

They had gathered all the blankets and pillows from Richie’s room and the spares from the linen closet and strung them along the threadbare couch, mismatched chairs, and soda ring stained side tables in the Tozier family’s basement.

“Get your ass in the blanket fort, Eds,” Richie replies, pinning the final quilt between the arm of the couch and his father’s favorite lazy chair and stretching it across the furniture to drape the other side over the table lamp.

“Richie!” Eddie yelped, anxiety bubbling up in his throat. “You can’t put a blanket over the lamp. That’s how you burn your house down!”

Richie turns to face him then, a languid, mischievous smile spreading over his face. Eddie knows he’s going to regret his words long before Richie even opens his mouth.

“All wet! You might need a raincoat! Shakedown! Dreams walking in broad daylight!” Richie belts out, entirely off key, and breaks out into jerky, horrendous dance moves, sliding across the tattered area rug in his socks. “Three hun-dred, six-ty five de-grees! Burning down the house!”

Eddie swallows back his laughter at the spectacle of Richie’s making.

“If you catch on fire, I won’t even spit on you to put you out,” Eddie declares, trying to school his features into a serious expression but a smile teases at the edges of his mouth. He ducks his head and picks up the VHS of Friday the 13th they had rented and shoves it into the mouth of the player. The machine whirs and clicks at the previews begin to roll across the television.

“Speaking of putting out, your mom -”

Eddie turns on Richie, superhero pillow still in hand.

“Finish that sentence and I’m going to smother you,” he warns, raising the pillow threateningly toward Richie’s face, eyes narrowing.

Richie wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooo, tell me more about your kinks, E -”

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before Eddie is stuffing the pillow into Richie’s face like he’s trying to force feed it to him. Richie howls with laughter.

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Richie sits much too close to Eddie in the rectangle space of the blanket fort, formed from where they shoved all the furniture together in a U-shape. So close that Eddie can hear the breaths that Richie takes over the sounds of Jason stalking the unassuming campers of Camp Crystal Lake; close enough that every time Richie reaches into the popcorn bucket he bumps Eddie with his elbow, the heat of his body burning Eddie through his pajamas.

“Also a fire hazard,” Eddie whispers as they watch Counselor Jack light up a joint in bed. When the hand darts out and grabs Counselor Jack’s head from under the bunk bed, Eddie jumps, hands flying to hover in front of his eyes.

From beside him, Richie chuckles lightly. “Are you scared?”

Eddie shushes him, hoping that the darkness disguises the warmth in his cheeks. “Watch the movie, Richie.”

“You’re so cute, Eds,” Richie coos, reaching over to pinch Eddie’s cheek, who promptly slaps his hand away. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

“Shut up,” Eddies says, tossing a handful of popcorn at Richie, who tries to catch it all in his mouth and misses miserably.

Eddie sits through the remainder of the movie with a pillow tucked against his chest, just under his nose so he can duck his face into it when it gets too suspenseful or gruesome.

As the movie comes to a close, the scene pans to Alice resting in the canoe upon Crystal Lake. When Jason surges out the water and drags her under, Eddie feels Richie flinch, bumping the length of his upper body into Eddie’s side.

Eddie looks over at him, a bit startled, before an impish grin slides across his face.

“Now who’s scared, asshole?” Eddie teases, laughing at the flush that blooms across Richie’s face, evident even in the muted lights.

“Jump Scares are cheap shots,” Richie protests.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie mocks playfully, throwing Richie’s words back in his face. “I’ll protect you.”

Eddie expects Richie to snark him in return, but he doesn’t. Instead, Richie is just staring at him, face illuminated in blue flashes of light from the television screen; his eyes warm and large beneath the thick lenses of his glasses, mouth parted in a soft smile, almost like he’s in awe.

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Richie is leaning toward him slowly, a pair of warm hands reaching up to cup his face. Eddie’s heart pounds rapidly in his chest, and it has nothing to do with the horror flick they just watched.

Richie stops mere inches from Eddie’s face, and up this close Eddie can see the questioning look in his eyes, and the insecurity embedded beneath it. Eddie gives an almost imperceptible nod and then Richie moves forward to close the gap between them.

He knew it was coming and the kiss is impossibly soft, just a brush of Richie’s lips against his, but Eddie gasps at the sensation anyways.

“Is this okay?” Richie murmurs, pulling back far enough to look Eddie in the eyes. Eddie can’t recall Richie ever being this quiet in his entire life.

“Yes,” he whispers, tugging Richie’s mouth back to his by the collar of his shirt.

Richie tastes like the butter from the popcorn and coca cola.

They kiss inexpertly until their mouths burn from the friction and Eddie’s chest aches from the shortness of breath.

They lie side by side beneath the blanket fort on the cushions from the couch, pressed together from shoulder to socked foot, the only light coming from the fuzzy blank screen of the television. Eddie stares up at the shadowy patterns of the quilt stretched out above them, a besotted smile on his face. Richie’s fingertips brush up against his and Eddie takes his hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. Eddie closes his eyes with a contented sigh.

Just as he begins to doze off, he hears:

“Chi, chi, chi, ha, ha, hah,” from beside him and Eddie jolts awake.

“Oh my god,” Eddie exclaims, and Richie erupts in laughter.

“I fucking hate you,” Eddie says, but he squeezes Richie’s hand nevertheless.

This is my first Reddie fic, so please tell me what you think! 

It’s 1992 in this fic, and the song that Richie is singing is “Burning Down the House by the Talking Heads, an 80′s classic. 

@eddiekaspbraks (hope it’s okay that I tagged you in this. I saw your post earlier when I was writing this.... If not, I’m sorry and I’ll untag!) 

[klbwriting]

Preference: Kids

Fandom: Gotham

Note:  This was not written by me but the wonderful @may-we-fangirl-again who asked me to post it!  Please follow them!  They are amazing and I love them!

Oswald Cobblepot:

You and Oswald’s little girl, Scarlett, was about three years old. She was spoiled rotten, but unlike most spoiled children, Scarlett was an angel! She was most definitely a daddy's girl. She was Gotham’s sweetheart being the Mayor’s daughter. She had Oswald’s sparkling eyes and your nose but his jet black hair. Now as any three years, Scarlett did have a very mischievous side to her. She had a thing for getting into sticky yet cute situations. Currently Oswald was pacing about the living room as you sat on the couch watching television. Little Scarlett curled into your side.

“What are you pacing for Ozzy?” You sighed in annoyance.

“This whole Mayor Business is overrated.” He complained as he stopped to look as you. Scarlett moved off your lap as she walked over to her father. She sat on the floor in front of him. Watching his feet move. Her dark brows furrowing at his weird walk. She slowly rose to her feet as Oswald walked into the kitchen with you in tow. What you two didn’t see was Scarlett limping behind her father. Her small frame not being seen as her raven curls bounced in her pigtails. Something shiny caught her eye as her eyes landed on Oswald’s jacket. She looked to Oswald, then the jacket as she ran over to it. She slipped it on with a giggle as she limped back over to the kitchen. Your eyes landed on her as you stifled a giggle.

“What?!” Oswald spun to see Scarlett limping into the room, the coat draped as it slid on the ground. His face softened as he took her in. Oswald was a whole other guy around you and Scarlett. He grinned as she spoke up.

“I’m walking just like daddy! Watch!” She proceeded to limp around the kitchen as you giggled.

“No Ed that isn’t right! I said do this! Not that!” She said in a deep voice as she sternly pointed a finger at no one. Oswald couldn’t help the laugh that made its way out.

“You’re a better Oswald than your dad.” Oswald stated as he picked up the miniature Mayor.

“You’re lucky you’re the cutest Mayor too.” He said as he kissed her forehead as she giggled.

Ed Nygma:

You and Ed had a four year old son, Edward Nygma Junior. He was a mischievous little guy with a knack for getting into trouble, however he picked up his intelligence from his father. He could pass as the miniature version of Ed Nygma. They even had the same glasses. Ed Jr wanted to be like his father to a ‘T’. But don’t let that fool you, he was a momma’s boy at heart. Today Ed had taken the day off, making sure you were working so he could take Eddie out for the day. You had finally gotten home and you quietly opened the door, hearing both Ed’s whisper to each other.

“Remember what to do little guy?” “Yes. I give mommy the flowers and hit her with a good riddle. Right?” “Spot on my boy.” “Boys?! I’m home!” You said as you walked in. Little Ed ran up to you with a flower in his hand.

“Daddy took me to the park today I picked this for you mommy! A-and I have a riddle for you!” He turned to look at his dad who gave him a thumbs up. Little Ed swallowed hard, not wanting to mess up the riddle. “C’mere. Okay...I-It’s made with sugar….You can eat it….it-it tastes very sweet...What is it?” He said as your brows furrowed in fake confusion.

“Hm...I don’t think I know that one baby.” Ed ran to the kitchen table as you followed him with a large smile.

“A cake! Me and daddy baked it today!” He giggled as he pointed to the cake. The light green icing placed sloppily on the top. Arms wrapped around your waist as a kiss was pressed to your head.

“Hello Eddie.” You sighed as you kissed him.

“Hello princess. How was your day?” “Good...tiring.” You said truthfully. He nodded. You felt arms wrap around your legs as you saw Little Eddie bury his head in your side. You were thankful for your little family. Even the little one on the way as Ed rested his large hands on the swollen four month bump.

Jim Gordon:

Charlotte Lynn Gordon was the princess of Gotham. A very sweet little three year old with a heart of pure gold. She was a very polite little girl for being three. Jim was very protective of his little girl, but she had Jim wrapped around her little fingers. Charlotte was little, having been born a tad bit early than expected. You walked into the GCPD with Charlotte attached to your hip. Bullock stood, Charlotte’s godfather.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Gordon!” “Hello Mister Bullock.” Charlotte smiled shyly. Bullock shook his head. “You’re too polite for Gotham City little Gordon.”

“(Y/n)!” You turned to see Jim walking to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Daddy!” Charlotte giggled as she reached for him. “Mister Bullock said you had the rest of the day off!” Charlotte gave Jim an award winning smile. Her blue eyes she inherited from Jim. Jim sighed with a smile. He knew he couldn’t tell his little girl no even if he had to. She was just so polite!

“Alright princess. Let’s go home.” He said as she covered her ears.

“I’ss so loud in here!” She whined as she buried her head in Jim’s neck. Jim placed his coat around her small body to avoid the incoming criminals that they had just brought in from seeing her. Once the three of you got into the parking lot, he took the jacket off of her.

“All the bad guys gone daddy?”

“All gone baby.” He smiled as he buckled her in. She grinned up as you kissed her cheek. Jim smiled at his two girls with nothing but love in his blue eyes.

“Daddy! Guess what?!”

“What?”

“I love you!” She said as Jim kissed your cheek. “I love you too Charlotte. I love you (Y/n).”

“I love you too Jim.”

“Now who wants ice cream?”

“Yes please!” Charlotte grinned as she grinned. Her brown hair bobbing in it’s small thin fountain. You smiled as Jim snaked his hand into yours. Lifting it and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He turned the car on and drove to the small diner a block from your apartment.

Jerome Valeska:

The only person crazier than Jerome was his son, six year Finneus. He was the literal carbon copy of his father. You couldn’t complain...they were both your sweethearts. Finneus adopted his father’s psychotic behavior. You could keep up I mean...you were the crazy clown family of Gotham. Jerome would often bring his son on small jobs, like robberies. You drew the line at actually letting Finneus see Jerome killing. But you digress.

“Momma! Look what dad got me today!” Finneus held up the butterfly knife as Jerome laughed maniacally.

“Ask your mother to teach you! She’s a pro!” Jerome said as he came into view. His shirt stained with blood as you groaned.

“You do the laundry this time!” You raised a brow as you carefully took the knife from your struggling son.

“You’re not doing it right honey...like this!” You expertly worked the knife causing your son to go slack jawed.

“Do it again!”

“What do we say?”

“Please.” He begged with big eyes. You did it again and your son let out an innocent giggle. Though you knew this family was far from it.

“Say do you think our new baby will be more into guns, or knives?”

“Oh we’re having another one are we?” You raised a brow. Carrying Finneus was difficult as you had been bedridden half the pregnancy.

“Junior, do you want a brother or sister?!”

“YES! I can teach them how to burn ants with a magnifying glass a-and I can teach them the best places to steal from!” Finneus giggles as you smiled. Jerome glided over to you, licking his lips as your finger traced his scars from the staples. You shook your head.

“Okay...let’s have another one.” You whispered. Nine months later and you gave birth to little Persephone, and your murderous family was complete.

Jervis Tetch:

You and Jervis had a little girl, Aura Jane Tetch. She was five and very small for her age. She was adorable and knew how to use it to her advantage. She was a daddy’s girl, she inherited his big brown eyes and nose and curly wild hair. Currently you were picking up some of her toys as her and Jervis did their nightly reading session. You can almost guess what he was reading to her.

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!” Jervis read animatedly, eliciting a giggle from the five year old. You bit your lip as you watched through the crack in the door as your little girl stared up at her dad. She watched him speak, hanging onto every word with innocent eyes.

“Dad?”

“Yes, my little flower?” “Can we read this every night from now on?” She whispered tiredly as she yawned. Her eyes closed as Jervis looked at you with a grin through the crack in the door. He kissed Aura’s forehead.

“Of course we can my little flower. Are you tired?”

“No…’f course not dad.” She whispered as she pointed to the page. “Keep….keep reading…” She yawned. Jervis shook his head.

“Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might…” “Have the wish I wish tonight.” Aura finished tiredly as Jervis tucked her into bed.

“My darling.” Jervis said as he exited her room. “Let’s have another starling.” He grinned.

Alfred Pennyworth:

You and Alfred were delighted with a little boy, Cedric Arlo Pennyworth. He was a true gentlemen at the age of six. He had excellent manners and despite the obvious age difference, got along great with ‘Master Bruce.’. You were beyond thankful that he has grown the way he has. He looked like his father and even gained the British accent. Currently you were gathering food for dinner till you saw little Cedric run into the kitchen with Bruce.

“Hide us mum!” He whisper shouted as he ran to the small cupboard as Bruce went into the taller one adjacent from where Cedric hid. You stifled a giggle. Suddenly you heard footsteps.

“Hello love.” Alfred said as he kissed your cheek.

“Hello Alfie.”  You smiled as you continued to chop up the potatoes.

“Would you happen to know where Cedric and Master Bruce are?”

“No. Not a clue. Why? Are you looking for them?” You smiled as you paused your cutting for a few seconds. Avoiding contact with Alfred, knowing he’d see straight through your lie. Alfred went to call you out but heard a small clatter from the cupboard that Cedric was in. Alfred playfully glared from you and pushed himself from the counter. He carefully walked over and whipped open the doors as Cedric laughed gleefully.

“Found you little mister!” Alfred said as Cedric crawled from the cupboard. Alfred picked him up and set him on the counter.

“Now...I’m going to ask nicely….where is Master Bruce….”

“I’ll never tell! Never!”

“Not even for ice cream after supper?” “...” Cedric pointed a small finger over to the cupboard where Bruce hid. You giggled as Alfred high fived his son.

“I know you, my best friend Cedric, just did not sell me out for ice cream.” Bruce faked a look of betrayal as you shook your head.

“I’ sorry mister Bruce! But ice cream is ice cream.” Cedric sighed as he hopped off the counter as you leaned down to peck your Cedric’s cheek. He playfully wiped it off as Alfred placed one on you and Cedric cheeks.

Harvey Bullock:

You and Harvey were the proud parents of a little four year old girl named Ella Grace Bullock. She had your eyes but the rest was all Harvey. She was quite quiet for being Harvey’s kid around new people. But she was a very kind little girl. She had quite the imagination. Currently Jim Gordon was over, who you could tell she had a small crush on.

“Hello Mister Jim! Hi dad!” She greeted as you came in from picking her up. She ran into her fathers arms as he scooped her up. Sitting in his chair as he set his drink down.

“Hello little Ella!” Jim smiled at the innocent child.

“Hello my beautiful sunshine.” Harvey smiled as he hugged the little girl.

“Today we colored!” She said as she ran to you. You handed her the picture and perched herself back on her dad’s lap.

“Look! That’s you putting the bad guys away with Mister Jim!��� She said as she then pointed to two stick figures, one with a hat and the other with brown hair.

“And there is me and mommy watching you make Gotham safer! See we have ice cream!” She gushed at her artwork with a smile.

“My little girl is an artist!” See that Jim!” Harvey smiled proudly as he leaned up to kiss your cheek. Slyly giving your butt a little swat. You gasped as he chuckled.

“That’s a pretty drawing there Ella Grace.” Jim smiled. Ella blushed as you giggled.

“T-Thank you Mister Jim.” Harvey picked up on his daughter’s innocent crush. He kissed his daughter’s cheek as he set her on the ground.

“Daddy?” “Yes ladybug?” “Can Jim stay for dinner? And color with me!?” “That’s a question for the man himself.” He said as Jim nodded. She squealed as she raced to get her coloring book and crayons. Harvey walked over to you.

“You pic on that too sweetie?” He asked as he acknowledged the child’s crush.

“You bet.” You smiled as you leaned up to kiss his lips. He sighed.

“It’s only going to get worse isn’t it honey?”

“Oh...you bet.” You smiled as he groaned.

[babybunjeon]

I was tagged by @cicieast ily~

Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better

Nickname: Mimi is the preferred but I welcome any and all~

Star sign: Gemini

Height: 4′9″ or roughly 149-150 cm?

Last thing googled: inches to cm conversion so I could answer the height question (^  ^; )

Favorite music artists: 방탄소년단 (BTS), 김광석 (Kim Kwang Seok), ARASHI, 尾崎 豊 (Ozaki Yutaka),  林宥嘉 (Yoga Lin), 王力宏 (Wang Leehom), Queen, Joni Mitchell, Amos Lee, Ed Sheeran, I could go on and on it’s hard to pick favorites

Song stuck in your head: Bidi bidi bom bom came up on my playlist 3 days ago and I still haven’t been able to get it out of my head

Last movie watched: Alice Through the Looking Glass, last night on netflix

What are you wearing right now: ratty old boxers and a maroon 5 t-shirt

When did you create your blog: this blog was created early-mid 2016?

What kind of stuff do you post: mostly I repost bangtan and other korean idols, occasionally I’ll live blog while I stream korean shows

Do you have any other blogs: yes! I have another tumblr where I am super queer and opinionated and socially anxious and just my general awful self. I have neglected that blog in favor of cooing over kpop idols in order to ignore my problems tho so

Do you get asks regularly: I think i’ve gotten 3, i would love to get tons~

Why did you choose your URL: because jeon jungkook is a baby bun and I love him

Gender: Female (cis)

Hogwarts house: Pottermore confirmed me as a Slytherin

Pokemon team: I choose mystic, it was that or instinct idk

Favorite color: green~!

Average hours of sleep: too much or too little, woohoo depression~

Lucky number: 3

Favorite character(s): why cant I think of any...

How many blankets do you sleep with: 3

Dream job: being paid to travel and try new things

Following: 178

now i’m not going to tag 20 people but i will tag a few, please no one feel obligated to do this!!!

@weekendwithoutcomputergames @jiwings @lunaticmyngi @petitekuroneko @cchatshire and anyone else who wants to?