#finally posted two fics that I keep editing and re-editing over the past couple of days

[gogomarinette]

Stuck between wanting to write and wanting to draw, and then being paralysed into doing nothing.. ...

[peterman-spideyparker]

Halo (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy, folks! In my slow sift through and re-editing process of fics on my laptop and in my notebooks, I've re-come across this fic. It's probably been written for, what, a year and a half? Two years? and I've waffled on it because I didn't know if I should post it. It's a continuation of Angel, but if you've read it and want to stay sitting in the angst, you can. It's still angst, but, it might make you feel better? Idk. I cried writing it and then every time I've re-read it, and I think id I tried to write more, I'd be a vicious cycle of tears. Not my best editing, but. Enjoy!

Summary: Matt is grieving your loss hard even months after your death. It's like a non-stop film reel in his mind. He's wracked with despair, and ready to submit when his angel comes to his rescue.

Warnings: ANGST (dead dove, do not eat), talk of death, wounds (stab wound, gunshot wound, blood--canon typical violence), a lot of crying, hurt comfort?, Matt has a lot of self hatred in this from guilt

Other Characters: Father Lantom, Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 1,635

Everything is too loud and too quiet at once. It’s been like that for the last couple of months since you died. His surroundings have been simultaneously amplified and dampened. He doesn’t know how to function. He hasn’t been able to figure out what life means without you. He doesn't feel as if he's living anymore.

Matt can feel when Father Lantom sits down next to him. He's been coming to church more often, as if his desperate prayers will change the past and bring you back to him. He can feel every last bit of the polyblend fibers in Father Lantom's black clothes, but it just feels like static to him. An indistinct haze. But even for as hazy as it is, for as much sensation as it is, it just makes Matt feel more numb. He tunes out Father Lantom’s words, and only when he feels his hand on his back does Matt actually pay attention to what his priest is saying.

“I was playing pool with a man once—a unique fellow with an insightful mind,” the priest starts with a breath. “He imparted words to me that were so incredibly wise it made a priest speechless. It was a simple question: ‘What is grief, if not love preserving?' As I let that sink in, he continued. He said that all those feelings—the anger, the sadness, even the hollowness, everything that brings a person to tears—that is all the unspoken love that you still have for someone. It’s a good thing, Matthew. Love . . . Love isn’t something you switch on and off like a lamp. It’s shouldn’t be—if it is, it isn’t love.”

Matt sits in the pew, his heart heavy, hurting, and crumbling.

“I keep thinking I’m going to find her at home,” Matt finally sniffles, his voice trembling. “I keep hoping that this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and we’ll be in bed and she’ll hold me the way she does after I have a bad dream. That she’ll make every bad thing I’m feeling go away.”

Father Lantom puts a careful hand in Matt’s back, and it’s enough to have him break down. 

“I miss her so much,” Matt weeps in the empty church. “I-I can’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Matthew . . .”

“She died in my arms,” he sobs. “I couldn’t—I should’ve—I need her. I’m lost without her.”

Father Lantom knows there’s nothing more to say as Matt lets his grief take center stage, feeling the pain course over him in violent wave after violent wave rather than pushing it down. 

This is it, he thinks. This is where he dies, on some random rooftop.

And you know what? He couldn’t care less. Being a lawyer, fighting this fight, day and night, it’s pointless. How can he try helping others when he couldn’t help the person he cared about most? When she, dying in his arms, was comforting him? This is what he deserves—it’s better than what he deserves, he thinks. This is a relatively clean death—a little bullet hole in his flesh. You were all but sliced in two. He deserves to be torn to bits for what he let happen to you . . . He deserves so much worse. But, as he lays there, bleeding out, all he can thing about is how he never deserved you. How you would have been so much better off without him.

How you’d be alive had the two of you never met.

“Matty?” he hears a gentle voice say. “Matty, I’m gonna help you sit up.”

No . . . This isn’t happening. The voice, he knows it. He thought he’d never hear it again. 

(Y/N). 

“God, you’re heavy,” you grunt as you help him sit upright, a careful, warm hand over where he was shot as the other is firm on his back. 

“Wha—Huh?” he starts to groan, panic quickly starting to bubble. 

“Matt, calm down, it’s okay,” you urge. “I’m here, angel, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

He sputters your name in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

He feels how your fingers run through his hair and down to a loving grip on his forearm. 

“Hey, Matty.”

“Sweetheart, wha—?”

“Matt, I know it’s a lot. I know. But it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“H-How?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “How?”

He listens to you let out a sigh, how your brows furrow, trying to find the best answer to his question. “Divine intervention?”

“Y-You died, (Y/N).” He smells the salt of your tears in the air. “You died in my arms. Why didn’t you hold on?” 

“I tried,” you tell him. “I wanted to. You were so scared Matt. God, I—.” You sniffle and bite your lip, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I would give anything to forget the pain on your face, Matty. But then I wouldn’t have been able to see my favorite person.” You wipe the tears away from his cheeks. “Matty, I’m not gone. I’m with you always, you know that, right?”

“I couldn’t save you.”

“You saved the city and the world from a frightening reality. You’ve done it so many times, angel.”

“That doesn’t change what I failed to do.”

“Forever the Catholic—full of guilt.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “Matty, look at me. You are the best thing in the world that ever happened to me, you understand that? You made me feel so loved, so cherished, so safe, and so valued. I never felt more myself than being with you. Everything that you made me feel . . . Matt, that’s love. That’s what love is, what it does, and what it feels like. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer to have you realize that and feel the same.”

“I did, sweetheart, I felt it.” 

“Then you need to remember that feeling and let it guide you. I want you to be happy, Matt. I don’t want you to be sad forever. I can’t have that.”

“I miss you so much. I don’t think that’s ever going to stop.”

“It’s only a beautiful thing. It’s all the unexpressed love. We never get enough time with each other, Matt. But the best part of it is, Matt? We’re going to see each other again. It’s gonna be a while, but when we do?” Matt can taste the salt in your tears. “Be there as much as possible for one another, Matt. Okay? Don’t shut people out, don’t push them away because you want to protect them or because you don’t feel like you deserve happiness, because you will mourn that time you lost. Open up your heart again. It’s one of the most beautiful things you can share.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he cries as he holds onto you. “I don’t want to go back.”

“You know you don’t mean that.”

“I can’t . . . I miss waking up next to you. It keeps getting harder. It’s all crushing in on me.” He sniffles. “The apartment is loosing your smell.”

Tears roll down your cheeks at his distress. “Matt . . .”  you soothe. “I miss you more than I can say. There are absolutely no words in any language to tell you how much my heart hurts that I’m not physically with you every day.”

“Then let me stay. Don’t make me go back. Please let me stay here with you.”

“I can’t make that decision. If . . . Matty, I know you know that you’re not finished on Earth.”

“Angel . . .”

“Matty?” you say softly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Tears stream down his face as he looks at you, his pupils locking onto yours for the first time. His hand carefully cups your cheek, afraid to touch you—like you’ll disappear. He gently touches your hair next, tucking it behind your ear before his thumb traces over your nose and cheek, finally brushing against your lips.

“(Y/N)?” he croaks.

“Hi, Matty.”

Holding your face in his hands, he leans in for the kiss of a lifetime, pouring every ounce of love he has into in.

“H-How . . .? I don't . . . You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” he sniffles as he moves to rest his forehead against mine. “God . . . You’re just . . . You’re here. You’re perfect.”

“Those are some super senses, huh?” you joke with a wet chuckle as you rest your foreheads on one another.

“I love you so much, (Y/N). I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

“Pull through for me, Matt,” you plea. “You’re not done yet, my angel. I know you’re not.”

“You’re gonna be with me, huh?”

“Forever and always, every step of the way. And hey—I better not see you again until it’s your time. Actually your time.”

“Promise,” he says with a soft smile, holding your face in his hands as he looks at you with tears in his eyes, desperately trying to memorize every last detail in your face.

“Love you, angel.”

“Love you more.”

He feels the burning, piercing pain in his ribs before anything else. Then, it’s the dried blood on his skin. Foggy’s muttering to himself in the kitchen about how he needs to find better friends that don’t dress up and prance around at night in ways that bring them two steps away from death.

When Matt’s eyes flutter open into a darkness he’s become accustomed to, tears begin to sting at his eyes as a fresh, strong whiff of your scent hits his nose in his apartment as if you’re walking by him like you’d done so many times before.

Forever and always.

While it hurts, Matt knows from that point on things will start to get a little easier. You're here with him, after all.

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[jiminzfilter]

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

:(

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 60

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,229

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Author’s Note: We’re back! Omg y’all...I finally have a path to the ending for this fic! After this chapter, I’m planning for there to be 5 more chapters until the end, which will give ID a total of 65 chapters. I’m still working on writing and editing these last chapters, but I’m pretty confident in that timeline :D I also plan to post each Friday again, so there should be chapters now through September 10th, if all goes according to plan. 

PDA

You woke with a smile the next morning, partially because of the happiness filling your chest like a balloon. The other part was because the warm body behind you, accompanied by a rasp of beard on your shoulder and soft lips on your neck, signalled that you weren’t alone. 

The florid orange rays coming in the large windows told you that it was still early, the sun barely risen above the horizon. Turning over onto your other side to face Negan, you took in his tousled hair and heavy-lidded gaze. 

“Mornin’ doll,” he said, voice raspy with sleep. 

“Morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his irresistible mouth. “No crack-of-dawn meetings today?”

His lips quirked against yours. “Nope, thank fuck,” he murmured, before rolling atop you and spending a good portion of the morning taking you apart with pleasure, then putting you back together piece by piece with cuddles and toe-curling kisses. 

When he later glanced over at the clock and saw that it was almost 10am, he gave a groan and flopped onto his back with a forearm covering his eyes. “Much as I’d love to stay here all day, I gotta go with a couple Saviors to check out one of the nearby outposts. They reported some concerns about their fucking security measures, and also requested a few more men be stationed out there to help divvy up their shifts, so I wanna go see if there’s any fucking issues for myself.”

While you felt a tiny thrill that he was so willing to tell you this information, to let you know about his duties as leader, you also had a moment of worry about him possibly assigning more men out to work the outpost. “Is that the one you brought Simon in from a couple weeks ago?” 

Knowing exactly where your thoughts were headed, he said, “Don’t get your fucking panties in a bunch, doll. If the outpost needs more hands, I was planning to send a couple of my newer Saviors.”

Pleased at this response, you smiled and leaned in close so your mouth was hovering mere millimeters from his, before whispering, “I’m not wearing any panties to get in a bunch.” 

Before he could react, you rolled out of the bed and strode to the bathroom, putting a little extra swing to your hips. The growl and unmistakable rustling sound of sheets being thrown off was your only warning before Negan scooped you up into his arms and marched into the bathroom. 

An hour later and you were both sufficiently clean (after first getting extra dirty against the shower wall), and you saw Negan off from his rooms with a kiss and warning to be careful. He gave an arrogant smirk at that, which got him an eye roll and playful shake of your head as a response. 

You watched as he strode down the hall towards the staircase, shoulders encased in leather and his whistle echoing off the walls. While they’d never dare ask him about it, you couldn’t help but give a little smile at the thought of his men wondering why the hell their usually punctual leader was almost ten minutes late to leave for the outpost...and why he seemed so happy about it.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Unable to contain your excitement over the events of the night before, you headed over to Ben’s room not long after Negan left. Thankfully he was there, having just returned from finishing up serving breakfast. His roommate was out this time, so you were able to huddle across from one another on his bottom bunk and catch him up on your conversation with Negan.

Ben listened intently, mouth slowly falling further and further open as you went on. When you got to the part about Negan admitting he wanted only you, and called you his partner, Ben let out a whoop of joy and threw his arms around you in a hug. 

“I knew it!” he exclaimed. “That big lug is head over heels for you.” 

The two of you chatted happily for a bit, before you left and wandered back down to your own room. It had felt like forever since you had a chunk of time to just relax in your bed without over analyzing or stressing over something Negan-related. Gone was the weight of that padlocked box of questions, which made both your brain and subconscious very happy. The three of you snuggled up on the bed and spent the next couple of hours finishing your re-read of Harry Potter before it was time to head down to the kitchen for dinner prep. 

Today’s menu consisted of lasagna using leftover deer meat thawed from the freezer, with the signature side of rolls. Trixie had unofficially promoted herself as being in charge of roll duty, making sure the dough was the right consistency and the ovens at the perfect baking temperature. She wasn’t rude about it, but the little bit of authority she showed when instructing another staff member how to properly knead the dough seemed to fulfill her need to be seen as a knowledgeable and important part of the staff. And in all honesty, none of her feedback to the others was incorrect, so rather than reprimand her or say she was out of line, you had caught her eye at one point and given an almost imperceptible nod of approval. This caused her smile to beam so bright that it was a wonder you didn’t need sunglasses. 

As it turned out, you weren’t the only one who had noticed Trixie’s presence and been keeping a stealthy eye on her. Andrew, a member of the food prep crew, had been not-so-subtly following Trixie with his gaze lately, and today was no exception. He was an attractive man in his early 20s with shoulder-length black hair and kind brown eyes, a much more appropriate candidate for Trixie than her previous choice.

It seemed safe to say that Trixie was aware of the attention as well, as she found every reason possible to flounce past where Andrew was busy loading trays of lasagna into an oven. At one point, she even stopped to chat briefly with him, and out of the corner of your eye you saw her toss back her head and laugh at something he said. If it seemed a bit overly dramatic to you, well, Andrew didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her reaction caused him to fumble with the tray of pasta he was holding, almost spilling the entire thing onto the ground. He thankfully saved it at the last second, otherwise you would’ve had to interrupt and lecture the two of them about focusing on their work and not chit-chatting. And you didn’t want to do that, not when Trixie finally seemed interested in a guy more her age who was actually available and seemed to genuinely like her. 

Despite your initial tension with Trixie, you now realized that she had just been struggling to find where she fit in, to feel like an important part of the community. She’d initially been scooped up and led astray by Amber, but thankfully she had found her way back on the correct path and was making progress at getting along with the others, rather than isolating herself and using condescension as an emotional wall. Someone like Andrew, who was kind-hearted and considerate, not to mention absolutely captivated by her, was exactly what she needed. 

Focusing your attention away from young romance and back to meal prep, you spent the next forty-five minutes making sure everything was baked to perfection before sending out the first trays of lasagna and rolls. However, your mind kept randomly returning to Negan, almost unable to contain a secret smile each time you remembered where the two of you now stood. The usual worry and second-guessing had been replaced by the stability of knowing how he felt, and each time you remembered his words from last night a flutter of butterflies went off in your stomach. 

Negan had told you this morning that the outpost he and a small team of men were going to was less than an hour’s drive from the Sanctuary, so he planned to be back around dinnertime. Sure enough, about 20 minutes into when the first round of food was being served, you saw a small group of Saviors enter the cafeteria and settle down at a table. You guessed that they were the ones who had been out on the mini mission, and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing them back safely and with jovial expressions on their faces. You could always tell when things went wrong on a run, due to the overall aura of the men who returned, but this time they were smiling and talking animatedly with one another. Hopefully this also meant that Negan was in a happy, and perhaps affectionate, mood when you went to visit him later...

It was as if your thoughts had conjured the man himself. You were out in the cafeteria with a large water pitcher, making rounds to refill empty glasses for people, when a hush in conversation made you still and look up.

And there he was, standing at the entrance to the cafeteria with his signature leather jacket unzipped just enough so that the edge of a white tee peeked out over the top. He scanned over the tables like a king surveying his domain, looking both intimidating and absolutely delicious with the arrogant way he held himself, as if he had no cares in the world but was also ready to take on anything.

When his eyes landed on you, those sinful lips quirked upwards at the edges, and you swore that even from the distance of half a cafeteria you could see his golden gaze light up at the sight of you. He moved, striding with determination and purpose to close the space between your bodies. The breath caught in your chest at his beauty, at the raw masculinity and almost animal magnetism that surrounded him. 

He stopped mere inches away, and you gazed up at him in both welcome and a bit of confusion. Trying to act calm and unaffected, and not show how much you wanted to grin and launch yourself at him, you said, “Welcome back.” 

Your eyebrow cocked in question when he shook his head with a low chuckle. “Oh no, doll, that won’t do at all.” And with that, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered his head...

And kissed you in front of the entire Sanctuary. 

A wave of shock jolted through you, at the same time as your body automatically responded, molding itself to his. Your brain was flatlined on the floor from the unexpected move, while your subconscious ran around it in circles screaming with excitement. 

You could practically feel all the astonished stares from community members, as they watched their all-powerful leader break one of his cardinal rules and kiss you to within an inch of your life. And dear god, what a kiss it was! His lips were firm yet gentle, his tongue just barely tracing your bottom lip, as if he couldn’t help but steal a little taste. He wasn’t holding back, and the primal part of you recognized that he was publicly staking his claim for all to see. There could be no question after this moment that you were his, and that he wanted everyone to know it. 

When he finally pulled back, you could only look up at him with what must’ve been an utterly dazed expression, if his pleased smirk was anything to go by. Glancing to his left and then right, his brow furrowed and expression turned serious as he bellowed, “What the fuck are you all looking at?”

His words had the desired effect, as eyes dropped back to their plates and the community stuttered back to action, obviously trying and failing to act like something monumental didn’t just happen. You’d have given a lot of points to know what they were all thinking, but you didn’t see any angry expressionsand no one had said anything or acted out of line, so hopefully that was a good sign. 

Negan’s warm hand rubbed comfortingly up your bare arm, and it was then that you noticed he didn’t have his gloves on. That also sparked the realization that he wasn’t carrying Lucille, which was strange since he always had her on his person when making an appearance in front of the community. 

Now that you’re thinking about it, did he even have her this morning, when he left?

You thought back to when you had kissed him goodbye and watched as he walked down the hallway. Surely he’d have taken her with him to the outpost...but you honestly couldn’t remember seeing her up over his shoulder. You had to just be forgetting, because there was no way he’d leave her behind. 

That train of thought was brought to a halt when the hand on your arm trailed down along your waist and settled possessively on your hip. “I wanted to put in a request for one of your staff members to bring two servings of dinner to my room, for Simon and yours truly.” 

Before you could ask if he needed time alone once you were done with dinner, he provided the answer. “We need to go over the fucking outpost inspection results, but I’ll come and find you once it’s done.” It was the second time he’d done that today, answering a question before you had the chance to voice it out loud, which was a sign of how well he was coming to predict your thought process. 

You were still a bit in shock at all of this, especially how he was discussing his evening plan with you so publicly and audibly, as if to show that you were more than just his in a physical sense. He was broadcasting to the community that you were what he had already told you last night: his partner. His voice had been low enough that only the nearby tables would’ve heard, but you knew every moment of this interaction would be spread across the entire community within minutes after he left. 

Giving a smile and trying to look like ‘yep, this is completely normal, no big deal, I am totally not internally screaming with joy and wanting to climb his fine ass like a tree’, you replied, “Of course. I’ll have it sent up immediately.”

“Thanks, doll,” he said with a final smirk. Then his face morphed back into the intense, badass expression of the Sanctuary’s leader, and he strode out of the cafeteria. 

You were left standing there, still a bit shell-shocked by what had just occurred, but also giddy as hell over it. That emotional high was only slightly dimmed by the awareness that now, with Negan gone, you were the sole center of everyone’s attention. A quick scan of the cafeteria showed that most community members were trying not to openly stare. However, the lack of chewing and frequent side glances thrown your way as your legs finally unfroze and started back towards the kitchen were proof that they had all seen Negan’s display of affection. 

While the rest of the community might’ve at least been making a feeble attempt not to obviously stare, the same couldn’t be said of the kitchen staff. At least a couple of them must’ve witnessed what happened when serving trays of food, and those members must’ve scurried back to the kitchen to report it to the others. Every single one of them was staring in wide-eyed silence with a mixture of shock and fascinated curiosity when you walked back through the swinging doors. 

Even though your face felt heated and you were a bit off-kilter, you still managed to sound slightly firm when announcing, “Alright folks, back to work. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when they didn’t argue, but a couple of them did give knowing grins, Trixie included, though at least they all seemed good-natured about it. Trying to act as though your world hadn’t just been spun off its axis with that public kiss, you went over to Ben, who was the only one that had stayed fairly composed the entire time. In fact, his eyes danced with mirth and he was obviously trying to hold back a smirk, so you felt only minimally evil when telling him of Negan’s request that two servings of dinner be taken up to his rooms for him and Simon. Ben gave a playful glare when you told him to take up the food himself, saying it loud enough that some others heard, making him unable to say no without looking a bit suspect. 

When the tray was ready to go a few minutes later, you quietly murmured to Ben as he passed by on his way out of the kitchen, “Say hi to Simon for me.” The words caused a hint of pink to flare in his cheeks as he gave a halfhearted glare. You almost felt guilty for teasing him, but knew Ben would more than forgive you when Negan came through on his promise to get Simon his own room.  

Though the kitchen staff still threw glances your way here and there, they quickly fell back into their usual routine and no one made any direct comments. You were safe from scrutiny...at least for now. At least no one seemed to have any extreme concerns about what had happened, making you wonder how many of them had suspected what was going on between you and Negan before now.

Once dinner and cleanup were over, you headed back up to your room. Negan had said he would come find you when he was ready, so you planned to just lay back and relax until then. 

Oh, who were you kidding. After that kiss, you were totally going to sit on your bed and think about all the dirty things you wanted to do to him the moment the two of you were alone. 

Trying to convince yourself that you could be at least semi-productive and pretend to have a hobby other than fantasizing about the leader of the Sanctuary, you pulled the copy of Harry Potter off your bedside table. You were just opening to the first page, planning to restart it again from the beginning, when a firm knock sounded at your door. 

Pulse jumping with excitement, you rose from the bed and didn’t even hesitate to cross the room and reach for the doorknob. It never occurred to you that it might be anyone other than Negan, let alone for it to be the last person you’d have ever expected to see at your door. But things had been going so well today that it was almost as if fate was bored with your happiness and wanted to add some drama to the mix. 

Totally ignoring the warning prickle that ran up your spine, you opened the door with a welcome smile. It quickly died on your lips at the sight of who was standing on the other side, hands on hips and eyes throwing daggers your way. 

It was Amber...and she looked pissed.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[jenivi7]

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE!  Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories! 

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses. 

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch." 

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not. 

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair.  It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time."  Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention.  He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board.  "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.) 

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written! 

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine

Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Future Dark!fic, Dark!Tony, nothing too serious so far apart from some verbal threats. Word count: 2000 approx. A/N: So this is my first time writing and posting here and I’m debating turning this into a dark!Tony fic.  Not sure if that will happen but here goes.  Also re-editing this chapter from original female character to reader.

Run-Through

Who knew a booking screw up at your favorite restaurant was about to bring your world crashing down around you when you draw the unwanted attention of a certain billionaire playboy.

Chapter One

Sitting at the bar, waiting to be seated, you couldn't believe a two month wait had been screwed up by something as simple as transferring details from one book into another.  But here you were, all dressed up, while the ditzy youngster who called herself a hostess assured you that you would be given top priority when a table became available.

Tucking into your second glass of rosé, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you and that, coupled with your growing irritation, helped you decide that if you weren't seated by the time your wine was finished, you would cut your losses and call it a night.  After all, working as an accountant for Stark Industries kept you busy enough and you didn't need to waste any more of your precious free time on someone else's mistakes.

Halfway through your drink, with still no sign of a table opening up, you were brought out of your thoughts by the sudden appearance at your side of one Happy Hogan.  "Hey love, the Bossman couldn't help but notice you're sitting here all alone and would be thrilled to have the pleasure of your company.  Shall we?" he asked, reaching out his hand for you to take.

Looking around the restaurant, your gaze quickly landed on the secluded area and was greeted by the wandering eyes and devilish smirk of Tony Stark.  Tipping his glass slightly and waving two fingers in a come hither gesture, you rolled your eyes, shook your head and turned back to Happy.  "Tell himself I said thanks for the offer, but no.  I've had a long day and the one saving grace has been royally fucked up, so if you don't mind, I think I'll just call it a night."

"Love, are you sure you don't want to reconsider.  Tony Stark is not a man accustomed to being told no.  It usually doesn't end well."

"Thank you for the insight, but I am fully aware of most things concerning Mr. Stark.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have work in the morning and a boss who expects nothing but perfection from his employees."  With that, you shoved your unfinished wine away, picked up your bag and stepping around Happy, walked out of the building.

Hailing a cab, heading home and throwing yourself into bed, you couldn't know that back at the restaurant, your boss was pissed that you had declined his company or that he was now determined to make you see what a mistake that was.

*************

The next morning, you headed off to work without even thinking about what had happened the previous night.  Sitting down at your desk, you buried your head in your work until lunch called and you decided to head down to the cafe on the ground floor.

Working in Stark Industries, employees were always bragging about the various run-ins they had with Avengers dropping by to see Tony, but it was never something you really gave much thought to.  For you, while you loved your job, it was a well paying means to allow you to enjoy what free time it provided.  To you, the Avengers were nothing more than other hard working individuals who didn't need people fawning over them for doing a job they chose to do.

That said however when Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts stepped into the elevator, a little voice told you to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.  Inching away from Tony Stark's loyal lackies, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, when two floors later, they exited the lift without ever noticing your presence.

Finally reaching the cafe, you ordered your usual mint flavored hot chocolate with whipped cream and decided to head back to your desk where you hoped to disappear until it was time to head home.  While the rest of the day passed relatively quickly, you couldn't help your mind wandering over your conversation with Happy the previous night.

From time to time you wondered how there could possibly be any repercussions from turning Tony down seeing as he knew nothing about you, but the more your mind mulled over things, the more on edge you became.  By the time you were ready to leave, your nerves had you jumping at every little sound and you were actually looking forward to going home and locking yourself away until facing the same situation tomorrow.

*************

After a restless night where every sound had you opening your eyes to see if something was amiss, you gave up sleeping around four, changed into your running gear and headed off for a quick jog before work.  Though you usually preferred boxing over running, you figured the fresh air might be useful in keeping you awake for the long day you now had ahead of you.  Then after heading home, you cursed Tony Stark as you brewed a cup of coffee, which you usually only drank when you needed to remain functioning.

Heading off to work, feeling slightly better, your day took one hell of a nosedive the minute you arrived at your desk to be told you had to deliver the quarterly financial reports to the meeting upstairs in ten minutes.  Knowing that ten minutes was enough time if no one stopped the lift along the way, your biggest concern was the fact that Tony Stark, and possibly Happy Hogan, would be present at said meeting.  As you watched the numbers pass by, you tried to reason that as nobody special, you had nothing to worry about and by the time you reached the main floor you had convinced yourself everything was grand.  Little did you know, grand is a relative term.

Placing your hand on the meeting room door, you slowly entered and was greeted by three sets of eyes staring at you.  Tony, Pepper and Happy were the only ones there and the fact that a whole group of people were just now walking towards the room told you that you had made good time.  Ignoring the knowing glances exchanged by Tony and Happy, you walked towards the table before speaking.  "These are the quarterly financial reports requested for this meeting Mr. Stark.  If there's nothing else, I need to get back to work."

"Wait miss, what's your name?" Tony asked, as he stepped around Pepper to stride towards you.

Thinking about lying but knowing what a waste it would be, you looked anywhere but at him before answering.  "Y/F/N."  Then, before he could ask anything else, the door opened and you took the opportunity to slip out and put some distance between you.  Taking the stairs, you kept going until you reached the lobby and headed straight for the street to draw in some much needed air.  Once your breathing returned to normal, you steeled your shoulders and headed back to your desk where you discovered Happy sitting in your chair.

"Well Miss Y/L/N, it seems you're a hard person to track down when one doesn't look right under their nose.  Mr. Stark has asked me to escort you to his office."

"I haven't done anything wrong so you can kindly tell Mr. Stark thanks, but no thanks.  I have no interest in spending time with him.  I simply want to do my job to the best of my ability and live my life in peace."

"And how much peace do you think you'll have if Tony decides your attitude is disrespectful?  Now you can let me escort you to his office, or we can wait here for police officers to escort you from this building for stealing money from Stark Industries." he whispered, having risen from the chair and closed the distance between you.

Certain the color had drained from your face, your shoulders slumped as you turned around and walked back the way you came with Happy falling into step beside you.

The ride up in the elevator was so much worse that the previous trip and you couldn't help but wonder what exactly Tony had in mind for you.  If Happy was willing to pass on life shattering threats, it didn't bode well in your humble opinion.  Leading you out of the lift on the uppermost floor, Happy opened the door to Tony's private office and once you were inside, had F.R.I.D.A.Y. lock the place down.  If you weren't panicked before, you were now all but ready to pass out at the sheer dread coursing through your veins.

An hour later, having been left to stew and think through every conceivable worst case scenario, the door of the office unlocked and Tony walked through.   Locking the door again, you watched as he discarded his jacket and tie before sitting behind his desk and facing you.

Looking you up and down like that night at the restaurant, you kept your eyes trained on the floor except to glance up once or twice to catch him staring at you.  "So Miss Y/L/N, I've learned quite a bit about you in the last two hours.  How is it that in the past three years you've worked here, I've never laid eyes on you before two nights ago?"

"You're a busy man and this is a big company.  I doubt you've laid eyes on every single employee that works here.  Besides, I tend to keep my head down, do my work and not bother anyone." you answered, still not meeting his gaze.

"Admirable qualities to be sure." he smirked, rising from his chair and coming round the desk to take up residence in the seat across from you.  "I wonder what other qualities you possess?"

"Mr. Stark?"

"Tony, please.  Perhaps you can start by explaining what happened at the restaurant and why you declined my company.  Hmm?"

"Look Mr. Stark . . . Tony." you added quickly, when he cleared his throat, "I don't mean to be rude, but as I explained to Mr. Hogan, I have no interest in anything to do with you except the job you pay me for.  A job, I might add I'm damn good at and would like to get back to."

"You know, Y/N, for someone who doesn't mean to be rude, you're not doing a very good job.  Perhaps a lesson in manners is what's in order."

Any retort you were about to utter was quickly stifled however, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed Tony that Captain Rogers was on his way up for their meeting.

"Damn. F.R.I.D.A.Y. please ask Steve to wait outside a moment."  Rising to his feet while helping you up, you could see the gears turning in his head but they quickly stopped as he looked at you once more.  "I think for now, it's best if you return to your desk.  When you're finished, wait there and Happy will drive you to my place where we can continue this conversation."

"Mr. Stark, I don't know what impressions I gave you, but this is highly unwanted and inappropriate behavior.  If it continues, I will have no choice but to report you to Human Resources."

"Well damn, Darling, I don't think I've ever been threatened with Human Resources in my own company.  No wait, that's a lie.  Pepper once threatened me with them, but considering it's my name on the building, it's kinda redundant.  Don't you think?  Now, be a good girl and do as you're told.  Steve's not a man who likes to be kept waiting."

Kissing your cheek and leading you from the office, you headed for the nearest toilets, locked the doors and emptied the contents of your stomach into the nearest bowl.  Returning to your desk, you found yourself unable to concentrate on anything but the thought of what would happen when Happy came to collect you.

Deciding you didn't want to wait to find out, you told your boss you weren't feeling well, headed to your favorite hotel and paid cash for a room for two nights.  Hopefully, if Tony couldn't find you, whatever game he was playing would fizzle out and things could go back to normal.  If not, then you would give yourself a week to figure out how to escape the notice of a man who could severely screw up your life.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

We’re Outsiders

This is a re-upload, or a throwback (originally written back in 2018). I hope you guys enjoy it too! I’ve edited it a little bit as well, since it’s original posting on the ye old @calumh-excess.

Calum’s used to being the on the fringe and used to be the one that fucks it all up. Cookie’s always used to being on the outside. Happens most of the time and completely out of her control.  Together, they remind each other it’s okay to be on the outside--all you need sometimes is a shot.

Greaser!AU. Black OC.

CW: Deals with racism (some mentions of racially charged words), mentions of violence.

Enjoy my masterlist!

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go. 

_____________________________________

Calum’s used to the dark. Most nights it’s just him out too late, past the time the street lights turn on. He likes it, driving down streets in the blinking of the streetlights as he glides over asphalt. The roads lined with trees and houses. The roads are lined with life that moves all around him, but are not bothered by him. That brings him peace. He’s so often the outsider. He’s the one that everyone stares at, with soft whispers. He knows what they’re saying is never good. He’s built that reputation for himself, with his slicked back hair, cuffed jeans and leather jacket. He’s done it to himself, being other and further ostracizing himself.

It’s not the life he chose for himself. His parents kicked him out and he had nowhere else to go. So Ashton, a guy from the south side that Calum had grown comfortable with, offered his house. It kept him in the same school for his last year and off the streets, so he took it. His friend group expanded, but now he was getting himself in more trouble than usual. Originally not a Prep and not a Greaser, Calum had managed to keep under the radar for the first year of high school. But now that he was living with Ashton, a prominent Greaser and hanging with the likes of Michael and Luke. Calum made a new name for himself.

Calum’s parents weren’t a fan of his interest in boxing. Calum took to amateur boxing as a way to finally feel like someone.  His stature made it easy for him to lie about his age in the beginning of it at barely fifteen and no one cared enough to double check. Calum knew he’d never really go anywhere ultimately. He knew he’d wind up somewhere local, knew he’d end up in overalls in the car shop, changing tires and oil. After coming home too many times, coming home bloody, his parents had had enough. 

Now with the Greasers, it was becoming evident Calum wasn’t just some quiet guy in the corner. His interest was saving his ass. When people wanted to pin them into corners, get into their faces, he always had a backup plan in his pocket. Fighting wasn’t his first resort, not initially. He’d try to talk a situation down. It doesn’t last long for anyone trying to pick a fight. Just about any and every fight ended with Calum standing, sometimes wavering just a little over some poor boy’s sweater vest and plaid shirt, covered in blood droplets, his fists put up in front of his face.

“Maybe sometimes, I just ought to run away from a fight,” Calum huffs to himself as his bike putters to a halt in front of the diner. “And I ought to gas this up more often too.”

He knew before he got the school to tutor that he needed to grab some gas. But he definitely thought he’d make it to the station closer to the city line. Tutoring felt like a saving grace. After work Calum spent a few hours at the school helping kids. It reminded him that he wasn’t all bad. It made him realize there was still humanity to him.  

The kids he tutored normally never cared about school. They were too busy trying to survive, not wanting to be the next Black body to wash up into a river or hanging like strange fruit from a tree. But they needed school, even though Calum empathized with them, he knew they needed the basics. They needed to write, do basic addition, needed to read just a little bit. So that’s how he worked with them. He’d level with them, You can’t take that girl out on a date if you don’t know how to count how much cash you have and how much it’s gonna cost you. And you definitely can’t be cool daddy-o, if you not reading well. 

The thing about kids is that they always asked; they knew he was trying to survive too in a world that seemed like it was always trying to kill them. If he came back with a black eye, or a busted lip, they asked him if his addition got him out of that fight. Calum would try not to encourage this kind of behavior, but he had to admit, the joke would be funny. Calum would reply nearly the same way, “Yeah, I added one fist plus two fists and put his candy ass flat. I’ll try subtraction next time.”

Right now though, Calum’s gotta focus on getting gas. He passes this diner all the time. He’s just never stopped here. It’s a silent understanding that this is a Blacks only establishment. He’s given a few kids rides after tutoring here. The parking lot is always full of Black people hanging around the doors and in cars, laughing as they part from their full meals. Just a couple minutes past here by vehicle is his own town, mostly white, some Blacks sprinkled into the mix. City’s split into thirds. There’s the northern side, the southern quarter and the Western side. The Black part of town neighbors right on the edge of this town. He knows it’s done strategically. The edges have become blended over time. But it’s not by a lot. The divisions aren’t invisible. 

Because of winter’s grip even though it’s only closing in on evening, the darkness keeps most people in their own homes. Booths are empty. A couple tables hold people sitting. The hostess looks up from wiping down counters, smiling. She looks vaguely familiar, he thinks, as she leans against the dry part of the counter.  “What can I do ya for?”

“Gas. And maybe a shake too,” Calum counters.

Her grin widens. “I can help with the shake.”

Calum goes onto to explain, “Bike’s empty.  I reckon I should pay more attention.”

He watches the way her full flips twist up, her coily hair pinned back and a dainty little white flower headband tied around the middle. She raps her fingers against the counter. “Charlie boy!” she hollers turning to the kitchen.

“He in the back gettin’ ready leave,” comes a booming voice.

“He got his gas can still in his car?” There’s a shout in return and she turns back around, voice returning to her normal sweet tone. “Give me just a second.”

Calum nods, sliding onto the barstool. She slips from the counters, running into the kitchen. He notes the lack of a skirt. Her pants are tight around her thighs and hitting her just below the knees. Wait a second, he knows those leopard print pants anywhere. Her father was the one that had a crossed burned in their front yard a couple years back. It was the only time they seemed to be targeted, but rocks were thrown their windows too.

Calum sat next to her in English in tenth grade. The last year they had together before her family moved. He heard rumors that her family owned this place. But he wasn’t sure how true those were. She was always nice to him in school. “It ain’t no white boy!” she huffs, the doors sway close behind her.

A dark skinned man, bald too, stares Calum down, lips pressed together. After a silent moment, the man speaks. His voice deep and gruff. “He da one fix Ma car. Why you ain’t tell me it was him?” It’s a playful scoff from the man as he bumps her with elbow. “I’ll be back.”

Calum recognizes him. The man scared the shit out of Calum when he walked into the car shop. He looked mean, but it was just the years wearing down his brow line. He has to put on a mean face because it keeps everyone from bothering him, as he explained to Calum. “Thank you,” Calum says, sliding down and fishing out his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, keep dat. Keep it,” the man waves his hand, turning away from him.

“At least something?” Cal asks. “For the trouble?” He holds out a five dollar bill.

“If you think it I can’t spare a couple bucks,” the man starts.

The girl cuts him off. “Charlie just go get the damn gas. Ain’t no one trying to say anything or start anything. Just go.”

Calum continues to hold out the bill even as the man disappears into the back. She slides behind the counter and Calum pushes the bill towards her. “Make sure he gets that.”

“You do realize he’s gonna raise hell. He’s too proud.”

“Please.” Calum continues to hold her gaze and all the time he’s trying to pull her name to the top of his brain. Was it Deborah? She had a nickname that she went by. Calum feels his tongue curling, but everything to the comes to the tip of it feels wrong. 

With a sigh, she nods and slips the bill into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll make sure he gets it. Charlie not mean, just hardheaded. As I’m sure you know, Calum.”

He lets a small laugh escape him. “Yeah, yeah I do. Wait, you remember my name?”

She winks at him. “Course I do. I remember everyone’s name. Still want that shake?” Truth be told, she didn’t always remember everyone’s name. But she remembered his, couldn’t forget it really. 

“Surprise me,” he grins. 

She smiles with a shake of her head. She doesn’t go far, around the wall that separates the kitchen from the back of the counter seating. Her conversation with the cook is short. Calum leans into the counter. 

When she turns back around, she notices his the silver chain around his neck as he plays with it. He looks like his mind is far away. She takes in his appearance, the golden skin, the bruises probably days old due to the coloration fading. He really hadn’t changed all that much since the last time she saw him. Maybe he got a little bit more handsome. Maybe it was a change in the cut of his jaw or the chub to his cheeks had slimmed just a hair. But it was still very much Calum in front of her. 

“Been in trouble?” she asks, gently rubbing her fingers over the bruises along the back of his knuckles. Her eyes linger on the one on the top of his cheek. Her cousin had told her that he seemed to be on the straight for now, but his healing body says something different. 

Calum tries to recover from the shiver running down his spine. His voice is shaky as he speaks. “I’ve been trouble.”

“Cats scared of you know, huh?” Calum hears the teasing lilt to her tone, trying to keep the subject light. He shrugs at her question in response. “I’m not. I seen you fight. You ain’t so big and bad.”

It was once. She wasn’t even sure what it was over, just happened to be turning the corner to the building to walk home and behind the school a group had gathered, Calum at the center. He was breathing heavy, fists clenched. It was he was the calm eye to the hurricane of people hollering and shouting at the fighting match happening. 

“Miss stealing your English notes,” he offers. That’s not what he wants to be known for, that’s not what he wants to be remembered by as the guy that could fight. “And those tiny hearts as periods,” he chuckles. The first time he saw it, he wasn’t sure if it was a heart or not. But as he skimmed over her notes more, the clear it became that those oddly large periods were really hearts in disguise.

Totally a sore subject, so she won’t be prodding that bull anymore. “Everyone here hates ‘em.”

Calum shakes his head, a grin splitting his lips. “They were kinda cute. Hope you ain’t do it for all the cats needing your notes?”

“That’s just the way I write,” she laughs. “But for you, maybe for you they were a little bigger than most.”  

“Don’t do that to me, doll,” Calum laughs. “Don’t go getting my hopes up.”

“I ain’t trying to do that. By no means.” They laugh, gazes falling from each other after a moment. He didn’t know this about her. The side that liked to dish out the jabs. They didn’t ever really interact a whole lot in class, or after school when he’d return her notes. But he likes this. He likes their back and forth. 

“Did you know you used to tutor my cousin?” Calum tilts his head to the side, trying to go through the catalog of his kids. He’s trying to place her face with those that he knows. But he’s coming up short. She continues on though. “You remember Elijah? Always bettin’ somebody?”

As the grin overtakes his face, Calum laughs. “Yes, yeah, I remember that kid. Always squeezin’ me for fifty cent!”

She laughs, nodding. “That’s Elijah. He’s kept his grades up. Not all A’s. But he’s doing good. He never stopped talking about all the bets y’all made. He could bash ears about you.”

“He was a good kid. Tell ‘im I said hi, will ya?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Cookie!” a voice bellows. That’s it! That’s the nickname. At the back of his brain, he kept trying to pull it to the surface. But just couldn’t for the life of him. She spins around, grabbing the plate and glass in the window. It’s a slice of pie as far as Calum can tell and a shake. She grabs some silverware and then slides the plate and glass in front of Calum.

“No need for you to be waitin’ and be starvin’.”

“Tell me, Cookie,” he grins as the nickname slides off his tongue, “care to split this slice with me? I remember what my momma taught me about eating dessert before dinner.”

She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Hmm,” she considers, fingers tapping at her chin. “You can get away with the nickname. This time,” she adds on, watching Calum’s brows shooting up on his face. “You’re not the only one that can dish out a knuckle sandwich.”

Calum taps the heels of his boots together, the soft thuds echoing in the quiet air of the dinner. “I’m shakin’ in my boots.”

“You better be.”

They talk about their lives, Calum working at the shop and her finishing up school though it feels like for sure she’s spending too much time at the diner. She does it mostly to help out since her parents are short staffed at the moment. Tiny pieces are cut between laughs and shy glances up from between lashes. Without even realizing the last fork clinks against the empty plate as Charlie walks back into the diner, through the front doors. “That your bike out front?”

“Yes, sir,” Calum answer, sliding off the stool.

“C’mon, and I’ll fill her up.” 

“Thank you again for helpin’ me.”

“You good people. Don’t sweat it.” He doesn’t wait around before stepping back into the dark of the now thickly settled in night. 

“How much do I owe you?” He turns to Cookie and nods towards the half finished shake. She waves a hand before pulling out his five from earlier.

“Let’s just say it’s on the house.” Calum goes to speak and she shakes her head. “He won’t take the money. I’ll use it to cover the bill and give him extra on his tip,” she whispers. “Believe me, I’ve got things all worked out over here.”

It’s a fair enough system and Calum hurriedly slips into his jacket before his boots click against the floor. Charlie doesn’t seem like the kind of man to keep waiting. And Calum definitely doesn’t want to find out the hard way. But as his feet carry him closer and closer to the door, his gut keeps jumping. He doesn’t want to let this be the last time he sees Cookie. 

And maybe it’s just the late night and the first time a girl looked at him that didn’t throw herself at him. Sure, Cookie flirted and he flirted back. But girls had two modes with him, they either ran away from him or they were just looking for a good time. Calum normally didn’t have anything against that. But that’s not what he wanted. He wanted someone he could laugh with, someone that saw behind the bruises. 

With one hand still holding the door open, Calum turns just a bit. “Cookie,” he starts, turning around. He might be pushing it just a little with the nickname. But the way she smiles lets him know that maybe she likes it too. “Mind if I see you again?”

“My English notes are always available. You know where to find me.” It ends with a nod. The bright smile that makes Calum’s stomach knot up again. 

“I’ll see ya ‘round, doll.”

__________________________________________

The dinner rush seems like it’s never going to end. The second she thinks she can keep up with her tables, someone’s asking for a refill on the drink, or needing extra condiments, or more napkins. But finally, she can see through the windows again. The parking lot doesn’t look like a party of it’s own. Cookie exhales, plopping down into the barstool. If her hair weren’t already pinned back, it would’ve fallen into her face. It’s only Friday. Tomorrow will be much worse. However, right now, she can take a deep breathe. She can take a moment for herself. Cookie presses her forehead into the cool counter. 

The door chimes again. God, not someone else. Not another patron. However, no matter how much she wants to disappear into the ethos, she swallows the complaints back down and pops up off the stool. “Booth or table?” she asks, automatically reaching for some menus.

“Tellin’ me the counter’s not free?” Calum grins.

She places a menu down, gesturing with a sweeping motion to the spot she once sat. “All for you.”

Calum shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the seat next to him. He chews on his bottom lip. She’s grinning up at him and he knows it’s not the same grin everyone gets. Her eyes twinkle too though he can tell she’s tired. “Full of gas today?”

It’s been a week since he had to drop in after running out. He didn’t expect her to drop it. She probably would never drop it either. “All the to the tip top,” he exhales with a tuft of laughter. She’s leaning into the end of the counter, the little part that starts to turn into the two doors that tell customers to keep out. 

“Charlie Boy says thanks for the tip.” A table across from her flags her down and they lock gazes for a second. The exchange of acknowledgement nods. “I’ll be right back to get your drink.”

Calum nods, watching her rush away. It’s a skirt today but the blue matches the decor inside and he concludes it’s the uniform. Why she wasn’t wearing on that fated Wednesday he’s not sure. But he liked that. Like that she didn’t always try to fit in. 

Calum looks over the menu and everything looks to die for. But he’s not really ordering anything, didn’t even intend to. He only came by to see her. Money was getting tighter thanks to repairs needed for the house, but it’s nothing that he and Ashton can’t scrap the money together for. Though, Calum was sure Ashton was going to flip a lid if he had to pulled more money for his car funds. 

Cookie darts around the counter, grabbing the coffee pot and smiles when she notices Calum watching her. “Didn’t forget. Promise I’m coming back.”

“No rush. You workin’.”

 When she finally gets settled again, Calum leans his elbows onto the table and rests his chin on the flat of his knuckles. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Besides working my ass off here?”

“Cookie what I tell you about all that swearin’!” The voice is distinct but he can’t place who it belongs too. The whole diner is still pretty packed and with all the waitress in the same uniform, it’s almost like a blur happening around him.

She rolls her eyes, reaches into the pocket of her apron and drops a nickel into the tip jar. “I swore yesterday and never put my two pennies in. I’m just covering myself for the next one,” she explains with a small laugh.

“Besides workin’, what are your plans?”

She shrugs. “Don’t get off until 9. I should probably get some homework done.”

“Would you be interested in catchin’ a movie?”

“Askin’ for passion pit?” At first Calum thinks she’s serious. He didn’t think his reputation was going down like that. He was a gentleman. A fighter of course, but always a gentleman. He goes to defend himself and how he’d treat her like a lady until he sees the grin on her face.

“Oh, just keep yankin’ my leg, huh? So you dig?”

She nods. “My only question, where?”

“I’m not sure of places around here, besides I have a bike. Not really drive in material. But there’s one not too far just across the west line.”

He can feel the hesitation on her. He prays she doesn’t say no. He figured that one would be close enough to her old neighborhood, it won’t put her too far into dangerous spot. The North side of town is no place for her. Nor is any spot  for him to be casually. He knows that. He’s not blind to the looks Black people get in groceries stores or walking down streets. He’s not blind to the news or the lack of news surrounding disappearances.

“How far across the line?”

“Minute. Two max. Close to your old neighborhood.”

She bites onto her lip, looking up to the ceiling. “I haven’t been on that side in a while. I know those people are cool with you. South siders are thick as thieves. I’m just, nervous. But I’ll go. If it gets too bad, we gotta go. No one’s gonna burn a cross, but, I just, I’m worried.”

Calum nods. “Of course. If ya want, we could go to the one over here.”

“You’ll get nasty looks too.” 

“Don’t mean you gotta sacrifice yourself.”

Her laughter is sad and heavy as it falls from her throat. She opens her mouth to say something. She wants to joke that sometimes her entire existence feels like a sacrifice, that somehow her mere existence felt inherently politicized and a form of rebellion. She doesn’t let it cross her lips though. Instead, she swallows it back down and shakes her head. “Now, what’s cookin’ good lookin’? What can I do ya for?”

Calum reaches out for her hand. The touch is light, makes her insides tingle too, if she’s honest. “You already did it. See you tomorrow, Cookie.”

“I apologize if my father’s a bummer tomorrow. Keeps a tight ship. I’ll still be able to go. But that ain’t to say you won’t have to fight for it.”

Calum nods before taking his hands back and sliding into the jacket. He’ll keep that in mind. “I’ll break out my loafers,” he grins. “Get ‘em spit shined too.”

Her laughter follows Calum out the door and through his entire ride back to the house. When Calum walks in, Ashton immediately note the grin on his friend’s lip. “What you got up to?”

Calum shakes his head, pulling his jacket off. “Nothing.”

“Nothing surely looks like a hell of a lot like something. You cheesin’ too damn hard. That girl?”

“She’s nice.”

“Just be careful.” Ashton doesn’t miss the questioning glance of his friend. He holds his hands up. “Look, don’t shoot. I’m just saying, this town ain’t too fond of people like her. She moved for a reason.”

“You fond of people like her? They folks just like us.”

“I’m not saying that, and you know it.” Ashton retorts, his gaze firm and mouth twisted down into a scowl. Ashton knows he’s not like the rest of the town. But he doesn’t want to see his friend washed up and bloated from the river. “But you gotta be careful with her. The world’s inherently against her. And you could get caught in the middle.”

Calum understands the sentiment, but sees no issues. He’s not naive to think the world’s just gonna open their arms. But people aren’t that bad. He doesn’t believe that, even if it felt like he was constantly fighting. He had to believe that there are good people out there. If not, the rest of his life would be hard and full of more scraps. “I can handle if I get caught in the middle.”

“But do you want to handle getting caught in the middle?”

“C’mon, man, do you hear yourself? I like her. She’s nice. She don’t look at my bruises and think she has to run away from me.”

“That’s awesome. You know I’m rootin’ for y’all. But you are in just as much danger as she is. And you already got plenty of people who don’t like you. It’s all they need. They’d only need a reason.”

Calum knows Ashton is right. He knows that anyone that didn’t already like him would really like him now. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a chance. That doesn’t mean Calum can just run away.

“I like her.” It’s final as it falls from his lips.

He brushes shoulders with Ashton as he heads to his room. It’s not meant to be mean, Ashton just can’t bare the thought of something happening. The world can’t be all bad. But it can and very much did get pretty bad. An hour or two later, as Calum just starts to feel the grip of sleep, there’s a knock on his door. He snaps awake and walks to the door.

Ashton’s holding out a cookie, from the pack they bought last week from groceries. “It’s the last one. I didn’t want to take it without asking.”

Calum wipes at his face one last time, leaning into the molding of the door. His stomach growls and he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything yet. He takes hold of the chocolate chip cookie and chuckles. “Her nickname is Cookie, ya know?” He says taking a bite of the treat.

“Well, Daddy-O, you’ll be callin’ her baby real soon.”

Calum throws a weak, half-hearted punch to Ashton’s gut. “Fuck off,” he laughs.

Ashton curls up, blocking most of the blow. He laughs too. The tension from earlier disappears. Calum understands Ashton’s concerns, but he can handle himself. One date isn’t going to end the world. He knows it won’t make the world a less spiteful place, but he can’t let that predict every move he makes. He hasn’t let it yet and he can’t start now.

__________________________________

The diner’s parking lot is shockingly full when Calum walks his bike to a stop. He kicks down stand and straddles the bike before getting his leg around. He’s mindful not put the collar of his leather jacket back down. He didn’t put too much gel in his hair either. Good impressions. That’s what he’s gotta make right now. Though, one look at him immediately gives away his affiliation, but he tries to tone it back down. Calum even threw on one of his scarcely worn button up shirts. When he walks inside, he notices Cookie untying her apron. There’s a man, a little taller, with a neat short cropped cut, and a face just like hers, though he’s a tad lighter in complexion.

She smiles at Calum and he returns the gesture, exhaling as he walks over. He’s not used to having to meet the parents up front. But this isn’t his house, these aren’t his rules. He’ll still play the game though. Calum extends his hand. “How are you, sir?”

Her father shakes his hand, grip firm and eyes sharp. “I’m good, son. How are you?”

“I’m well.”

The quick once up and down is almost too fast to catch, but Calum knows the tactic well. “I don’t judge, son. I don’t. The world’s full of it already. Just treat her right, tonight.”

“Of course, sir. Is there any time I should have her back by?”

“As long as no one’s coming through my door at ungodly hours, I’m not too concerned.”

Cookie sighs, head falling on her neck as the sigh shrinks her shoulder. “He means midnight at the latest. I’ll save ya the time of walking through that maze of a riddle.”

With that, she leads him out of the diner. Calum can feel the eyes on him. Some whistle as they leave. Nothing menacing, all good teasing love. He laughs as Cookie groans in their departure. 

Calum doesn’t miss the way his own body is warming though, the jitters almost making his teeth chatter. Her touch is so sure, but gentle against his hand. Cookie pauses at his bike and releases his hand, running her fingers gently over the handlebars. 

“So, a couple friends of mine wanna tag along, is that okay? I can shake ‘em if not,” Calum warns. 

She nods. “That’s fine.” There’s a moment where she’s gazing up at the skies and Calum’s watching her. “Honestly, I’m just glad to get away from the dinner even if it’s only for a couple hours. I graduate in June but I know where I’m going to wind up. I just need a way not to get stuck.”

Calum pulls out the helmet. “Well, let me unstick you.”

She huffs. “My hair is not going to fit into this.”

“You better make it fit, baby. Because I’m not leaving until it’s on your head.”

She cocks one of her hips out, the black blouse tied at her waist, paired with black pants too. Her red Keds tied perfectly around her feet. “Fine. But someone better have a mirror for me to fix this afterwards.”

“I’ve gotcha, doll.”

She wants to curse the way her heart flutters at the nickname ‘doll’ because there’s no good reason for her to almost melt at the way it curls off Calum’s tongue. But she does. Especially with the tiny shy smile he always pairs it with. It gets her every time and if she could curse him so it didn’t, she would. 

He slides onto the bike first and she slips on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. Her hold is strong, even a little tense when he first takes off. But a few seconds later, after being on the road, she loosens her grip. The wind is great across her face. She’s only been a bike once before. She’s not necessarily the angel most people think her out to be and she enjoys the secondary persona. It gives her a break from her reality, that she will always be bashed because of her skin color. She will always be at a disadvantage, it feels. But it doesn’t means she can’t have her fun along the way. 

As the stop at a light, she watches with blurred vision as the red light burns into her retina. Soon it turns orange, and she’s staring out of her bedroom window watching white clothed bodies lighting fire to a cross. All she can think about is how she covers her younger sister’s and brother’s eyes, tries to keep them preoccupied. But they still asked her why them. What did they do wrong? And the answer unfortunate truth is nothing but exists. She doesn’t tell them that, she instead tells them that some people are just mean and don’t understand the harm in their beliefs. She doesn’t have the heart to shatter their worlds. She doesn’t have the heart to use words like racist, and evil. They’re too young still. But they know for sure. They know about it, they just don’t have the words.

“Hey,” Calum says, gently, hands wrapping around hers around his waist.

She blinks and realizes they’re parked. “Sorry, just thinking.” Her arms slip from around him and she pulls the helmet off gently. The bright bulbs on the front of the building let her know it’s the theater. The spaces are a little empty, but there are some cars. Most people have probably opted for the drive in since the weather is starting to finally break.  She pushes off the seat. He watches her, quickly wiping at her face. Why the tears now? The worst time possible. 

“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I’m okay.”

“It don’t look like nothin’.”

“I-I’m okay.”

“We can skip the flick,” he offers, gingerly reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal.”

“Your friends would surely be disappointed.”

“They won’t be.”

“I just. I wish I could shake them. I can’t get that image out of my head sometimes. All of those men in my front yard. My sister and brother being scared. It’s not easy.”

He’s at a lost for words. He doesn’t know what’s that like and he probably will never. It’s not to say that he hasn’t gotten his fair share, nor Ashton. Ashton caught a lot of heat taking Cal in, but when everyone you know can keep up in a fight, people tend not to say much. But her family was prominent, and typically non-violent. “I know there’s probably not a lot I can say or do right now,” Calum starts, gently taking her chin between his fingers and tiling her head back. “But whatever you need, let me help.”

He swims in her vision for a moment and Cookie wishes she could just get over it. She wishes she could just take a sponge and wash it from memory. But it’s right there, right behind her eyelids some nights. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she lets the few tears falls, but she nods gently. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he breathes, “of course.” Calum pulls her in for just a moment, letting her compose herself.  Cookie wishes she hadn’t, the smell of him now and the hint of nicotine is pressing into the hairs of her nose. She never wants to breathe out. 

It takes a moment longer before she nods into his chest and they head inside. Ashton said he’d cover the tickets, if Calum covered a bit more on the groceries. So it works out. Inside, fingers threaded through each others, Calum spots, Ashton, Luke and Michael, leaning against the wall. A circle of Preps are eyeing them but their attention is immediately shifted when she and Calum walk in. Calum holds a little tighter to her hand. He prays they don’t start anything.

As they walks closer to his friends, Calum notices more people are watching them. Not just Preps, but everyone in the room. “Thought we scared you and your Daddy out of this town!” someone shouts.

Her grip tightens in response, but she doesn’t drop her gaze from the three boys in front of her, Calum’s friends. This is what she’s used to, at any march, at any speaking event. This is normal for her. It doesn’t hurt any less. It doesn’t stop making her heart jolt at every insult, but she can hide the flinches, she can hold back her tongue. For a moment.

“You know you don’t belong here!”

She’s waiting for one of them to use the word. She just need the lips to curl into the start of n sound and she can pounce. She’d rather not start a scene here, on the wrong side of town. But god, does she only need one reason, she only needs one of them to set her off. “Either cut the gas, or you’re gonna have a problem,” Calum warns, a single ring adorned digit signaling out the offender.

“Oh, she can’t talk, huh?” Joseph is always one to try and start any fire he can. It was like he almost got off on the humiliation. 

“Drop dead,” Cookie hisses. “No one wants anything to do with you. Won’t no one thinking about you for two seconds, so now you gotta make yourself known.”

“Fream speaks!”

God, she wanted not to give in. She wanted to walk away. “I do. But you got a lot to say. So keep running your mouth, half way to a bruisin’ as it is.”

Calum looks back to her. He didn’t expect that from her, but something hits his chest. It’s a strange excitement and the adrenaline before a fight. Part of it definitely disbelief. Not Cookie, he hasn’t pegged her as the type. But maybe he had been more wrong about her than he thought. Maybe all the teasing and flirty wasn’t just her playing games. While Calum would rather not have a fight, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her to a fight alone. “The lady spoke,” he grins, turning back to Joseph. “Shut it or we dance.”

Joseph, who once was surrounded by his posse, notices that only on a couple of his original boys still stand. No one really wants to get into a fight with Calum. And everyone can see the other three circling in close too. The odds are heavily on their favor and Joseph would definitely be the laugh of the town. “You’re not worth it anyway,” Joseph finally mutters. Though Calum can see the way he’s holding something in the back of his mouth.

Calum pushes her back behind him, just in time too before the spit lands on the floor at her feet. His hands are in fists before he realizes and he surges forward. Grabbing the collar of Joseph’s shirt, Calum lifts him from the ground. He can’t even get the word out before Joseph releases an ‘Oof’ doubling from a blow. Calum looks to his left to see her fist at her side. “Try me again,” she hisses. “Put him down and let him try me again. Just because my dad’s nonviolent, don’t mean I am all the time.”

Calum drops the boy from his grasp. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Ashton, Luke, and Michael who have been keeping to the back, watching, waiting for anyone to step in, finally move in towards them. Luke takes hold of Calum’s bicep. “Let’s go. We can’t afford any heat right now.” Luke’s taking in Cookie and the crowd. It can go south real fast for them. 

Calum nods and reaches out, running his fingers from the top of her vein along her wrist to her fingers. Cookie’s hand unfolds and he intertwines their fingers. She takes a step back and while Joseph is still recovering, she spits on his shoes. “Need better aim next time!”

The five of them shuffle out of the theater, quickly, knowing any attendant that happened to see the heated argument could be dialing for the cops. Outside, Calum pushes her closer to Michael. Most people don’t suspect him. He’s good in a fight, but not overtly identifiable. “Ride with Michael.” Folks definitely saw Calum and Cookie walk in together. She can’t be on his bike, not with him. If he gets caught and pushed around by the cops, it’s fine. But if she’s caught with him, that’s bad news.

“Sorry for ruining our date,” she calls out to him.

Calum slips on the helmet, grinning. “You didn’t ruin it, Cookie. You made it a hell of a night. Michael, goose it. Got it? Burn fucking rubber.”

Michael nods with a grin. “You know how to pick ‘em, Cal.”

Cookie slides into the passenger seat of Michael’s car. And true to Calum’s instruction, Michael blares down the backroads. He laughs about halfway through the journey. “Got a solid jab,” he offers.

“Thanks. Dad taught me.”

“Cal boxes. You know that?”

“Heard something like it.”

“Yeah,” he hiccups as they bounce a deep hole in the road. “Maybe he knew deep down you could fight too.”

Soon they pull into the driveway of a decently upkeep house. The outside doesn’t have a lot done to it and she knows that the inside might be a little sparse too. But everyone does what they need to in order to survive. One car is already there. But not too soon after they climb out of the car, she can hear the rumble of Calum’s bike. She pauses near the front steps, one hand on the railing and watches him. The tires kick up dust and rocks as he swerves into the driveway. He continues on around the house, slowly creeping by. Soon the deep rumble ceases and instead she can hear the crunch of feet against the gravel and dirt.

Calum pulls the helmet up as he rounds the house. “No heat, as far as I could tell.” Everyone exhales. He walks up to her, grin on his cheeks, curls perfectly disheveled from the quick tug up from his helmet. “Jets and a mean jab, got it all don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t have. I just hate his guts. I’m sorry.”

With a shake of his head, Calum takes her hand. “You’re fine. He deserved it anyway.” Her hand trembles in his. “C’mon,” he urges, taking her into the house. 

The decor isn’t as sparse as she thought it would be, the couch has a couple blankets draped over the back of it with end pillows. The cherry wood dining room table has four chairs that match and a small bowl in the center some fruit sits in it. There’s a big shelf with records on it, some books.

The walls a little bare minus some old photos. “It’s not a lot. But we get by,” Calum whispers.

She shakes her head. “Reminds me of the old house. Even the new one we have isn’t too packed. Half the time, money’s going to the diner. The other half, the time’s going there too. Just never seems worth trying to unearth everything.” 

Calum soothes the skin of her hand with his hand. He never considered that, that her life on the outside looked one way. But on the inside it’s way different. It makes sense why she has so many hours at the diner. “What can I do ya for?” he grins.

She laughs. “That’s my line. You can’t go stealing that.”

“Too bad, doll. Looks like I just did. So what can I do ya for?”

“Honestly, at this point a smoke would be nice. But water will do.”

Almost way too sheepishly, Calum reached into his jacket pocket and dangles the pack between his fingers. “I try not to smoke often. It’s not a habit I’m proud of, but if you want one,” he trails off with a shrug. 

It’s tempting. It’s very tempting. Her statement was mostly a joke. But she keeps eying it. So, Calum places the helmet on the couch and hands her the packet. He slips out of his jacket, finding the lighter. She knows she shouldn’t give in. She hasn’t had one in a few weeks. Mostly because her dad would kill her. “I’ll go get us some drinks. Then we can step outside.”

“So we’ve met,” Michael starts, cutting through the awkward silence as Calum shuffles into the kitchen. “I’m Michael.” He points to the blonde to his right. “That’s Luke. Watch out for his limbs.” He then motions to a brunette. “That’s Ashton. Calum and him live together here. I live a few houses down and Luke lives like a street over.”

She smiles at them, still playing at the carton top. “Sorry about missing the movie again.”

“You were way more entertainin’,” Luke laughs. “Besides, we hadn’t gotten tickets just yet, so win-win.”

Ashton’s stare freezes her. It’s somewhere teetering on the edge of the disappointment. “Scold me,” she starts. “You won’t be any worse than my father.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned,” Ashton answers truthfully. He’s impressed because he’s only never heard about her, seen her through others eyes. They all call her quiet, reserved, put together. He’s never really laid his own eyes on her. But now, she didn’t really go off the deep end until provoked. He can give her that. She didn’t throw the first punch. Though she made damn sure that she threw the last one though.

Ashton’s concerned because what does this mean for the rest of them. They already have enough of a target on their back. He doesn’t want to make her out to be a villain, but his world’s not easy on her and it won’t be easy on them if they associate with her. “This isn’t against you, it’s just, we’re already so…”

“Alienated. Greasers are low down, dirty, get into fights all the time. You guys are the scary people everyone should run from. And I’m the shit stain on this here great country. We’re both outsiders. I’m just further out of the circle than you. I get it.”

“But you’re sweet, got a little rattle snake in you, but you’re good people,” Ashton counters.He doesn’t want to discredit her by any means. 

“I’m never going to have the best of both worlds. So you best decide now what world you want.”

Ashton watches Calum from the kitchen doorway, a beer in one hand and a coke in the other. “You ever think we could actually fit in Ash? Because if so, you’re a dip stick, the biggest one I’ve ever seen. If you thought just because I wasn’t Black, that you’d somehow could still skate into the white agenda, you were wrong. You can’t choose me and then accept her,” Calum counters. “Won’t ever work.:

“We’re outsiders, we live on the outskirts of town. We weren’t eva’ gonna fit in,” Michael says.

“But do we always have to be behind?” Ashton questions.

She places the pack down on the coffee table. “We will always be behind. And until you accept that, you’re never going to make it forward.”

It makes sense. They were always going to be pushed to the outskirts. They could never make it in. The door wouldn’t open for them. Ashton’s known this, but it was easier to be on the outside and still be white. He could still see the door, could still knock on it. She can’t even get a glance at it. “The world’s never gonna be fair to you,” Ashton sighs. “But the least I can do is be fair to you.”

“I hope it will be one day. Today’s just not the day.”

Ashton stands from the kitchen table, “Care for a beer? Coke? Water?”

“Coke’s fine, thanks.”

“You heard the lady, get her a coke,” he grins as Calum. He can be fair to her. The inside wasn’t meant for them anyhow. What would he gain? Status that all relied on following prescribed rules that meant nothing? That was his whole thing. Following who’s rules? Why follow them? What be the reason for it for him to break one and face backlash? It’s pointless that’s what it is.

“Bring that,” Calum urges, nodding to the pack. She grabs it and follows behind Calum to the back of the house. He points out bathrooms and bedroom. She pokes her head into Calum’s. Lots of posters cover the walls of various musicians. 

“If I ain’t know better I’d say you might be into music.”

“Just a little,” Calum laughs. 

“Too busy boxing now, huh?” She lands a few fake punches to his torso and Calum bows every so slightly at them. Their laughter is soft. 

“I’m trying to keep it clean, legal.”

They settle onto the top step of the back porch and Calum sets the Coke near her feet. She hands him the pack. He taps it twice to his palm before pulling out a cigarette.

“Most people run when they know I fight, but not you.”

“Ain’t most people. And you ain’t the only one that can fight.” 

He shakes his head, lips wrapped around the butt of the nicotine filled paper. Cookie’s got him there. She watches him flick the lighter and the way the flames lick at the paper. She watches the cut of his jaw, the way his hair falls in different directions around head now. “Shouldn’t grease it back so much,” she mutters, hand reaching up to play in it. She stops herself, asking him silently.

He nods. “Go ahead.” The cloud billows from his nose and mouth as he speaks. She drags her nails over his scalp, letting her fingers graze the soft strands. He holds the cigarette out to her. He grins when she hesitates. “I’m willing to share one. But if you’re afraid of cooties, I understand. I did get the shot though.”

She laughs, slapping his arm and takes the paper between her fingers before inhaling the nicotine. “Earlier,” she starts, passing the burning paper back to Calum, “that red light made me think of the cross in my front yard. I’ve got a brother and sister. Both younger than me. I’m terrified for them. They’re going to have same shitty world that I had. We march, we protest and we die. For what?”

“So the world’s not so shitty for them,” Calum exhales.”Maybe, hopefully.”

“Easier said than done.”

“No one said life was easy. Because if so, they’re a goddamn liar.” Calum holds out the cigarette for her, but she shakes her head, going for the bottle at her feet. “I’m sorry about Ashton. He means well. Just a worrier. Thought I had talked sense into him earlier.”

“I’m not upset.” It’s silent, the crickets sounding from the bushes. Calum thinks about all the hate she sees on a daily. How does she do it? He figures it’s not without trouble. They’re all burdened. No one in life gets through it untouched. Everyone has scars.

Calum’s comforted by the silence between them and before he’s realizing he’s talking. The words are just coming out of his mouth. “My parents kicked me out. I wasn’t always here. I mean, I was always other. I was always a fighter though I never liked it. I was always different. But I wasn’t always labeled different, outside.”

“You get by though.”

Calum nods, letting her take the last hit of the cigarette. “Car shop is good cash. How I got my bike. Tutor helps a little. Nearly dropped out, but Ash footed a lot of the expenses. I had to repeat a year, which ain’t the prettiest thing to admit. It took me a while to find a place to stay, wasn’t going to school all too often.”

“I bet that makes the kids feel better. The ones you tutor.” She figured Calum was older, figured that they had meet in English class by some repeat or calculation but she wasn’t sure. 

“It does. They know it’s okay if things take them a bit longer.”

“Thanks. For coming to our side. For helping out. It helps more than you might now.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” There’s another pause. He watches the smoke float from her lips. “Can I see you again? Maybe actually have an actual date?”

“Telling me sharing a cigarette on your back porch isn’t a date?”

“Exactly,” Calum laughs. He hasn’t even touched his beer. He doesn’t really want it. He brought it just in case she didn’t want the fizzy drink. He’s not too upset about it. One of the other boys will take it no doubt.

They sit outside, way after all the nicotine is inhaled. She rests her head onto Calum’s shoulder. “I vote next date is food. Because every time I see you you not eating!”

“I eat I swear to it!”

“Picnic, my place. You’ll have to excuse the anklebiters if they’re around.”

“Next time, your place. I’ll excuse the anklebiters. If they’re around.” 

The ride back to her house isn’t long. Feels much shorter this time around. The redlight doesn’t shock her system. The wind on her face is welcomed as it blows back Calum’s scent too. He pulls into the driveway and walks her up to the door. 

“Thanks for tonight. Even though it didn’t turn out like we planned.”

Calum shrugs. He enjoys the way it turned out. “Clearly it well enough for me to get a second date.”

“Calum, if I didn’t know better I would say you’re trying to get jacketed.”

He laughs. “I know I want to see you again.” It’s direct and skirts around the going steady tease. Truth be told, he’s not sure about that. But he doesn’t want to completely ruin his chances with her.

The door creaks open a little. “Good night, Calum.”

“Good night, Cookie.” She steps into the house, sending him a small wave. He waves back and waits for the door to close. He had plenty of time, he thinks at his own place to kiss her. Or make some sort of move. But maybe it was better that they just talked, that they spilt guts to each other that they hadn’t let others see just yet. 

Calum starts down the porch when the front door creaks open again. He’s not sure what’s wrong but before he can turn around fully to ask, lips are pressed gently to his cheek. 

“You missed,” Calum teases. Cookie, still bent over, pushes into his cheek and Calum turns to face her completely. Her lips are soft against his and holy hell--it’s happening. Their shared breath is the slight sweet of her Coke and the bitterness of nicotine. 

“Ain’t miss that time,” Cookie teases. Her lips brush against her as she speaks and they linger for what feels like an eternity, lips just centimeters from each other and breathing in the other’s exhales. 

“Wasn’t a footballer, but you’re gunning for that jacket,” Calum whispers. 

“I think I look good in leather,” she hums, brushing her nose over his. 

“Bet you look gorgeous in it.” It leaves him in an exhale. Her chuckle is soft before she straightening back up. She slips into the dark of the house, waving one last time to Calum. 

His boots nearly trip him as he heads down to his bike. Calum can still feel teh ghost of her lips on his. Her nails are still pressing into the flesh of his cheek to keep his head straight. Not like with a kiss like that he wouldn’t have followed her anyway she wanted him to go. 

He’s gonna get in deep with her; he can feel it. And he doesn’t even care. 

[puppy-the-mask]

Poly? Morph

A Friends to lovers post-dnd-transportation fic focusing on our boys Rant and Rus (debating on adding Edge aswell) 

There’s like 4 POV changes so let me know if I should re-write? this was more for fun than anything, It doesn’t get to romance yet but I hope to continue in my free time. Let me know any errors or anything, I’ll put it on AO3 after a bit more editing and input. I’ve just re-read it so much its all bleh to me so i’m getting second opinions/input here

tw/Blood and Death- not graphic but y’know -/(Owo)\-

It’s been 5 years since we began, just a couple of students playing a game of DnD. Mere hours after wrapping up session zero us players arrived home and as a collective felt a foreign wave of exhaustion, falling asleep one by one.

The city's air was damp and the pathways were dim with the light of half dead lanterns. The party was shuffling through the empty streets to the gates bound for our next assignment when a figure appeared out of the shadows, the glint of metal and we found ourselves face to face with a hostage situation. 

You had once been the closest we had to a tank, a perk of having been a dragonborn with high strength- even if you were a druid bard- but after being cursed for the upteenth time you’d been separated from your avatar- Blackjack-  and rendered a low level support for our high level party. 

Without you taking lead your roll was delegated to other, more impulsive members. The next moments are a flurry of movement as a loud burst sends the assailant back along with you- the dagger at your neck drawing blood. 

Everything blended together as I flew to the front lines, rage getting the best of me as the look on your face burned itself into my mind. The shock and pain in your eyes drove me forward as the streets were painted red. 

The cleric could heal you, I had a life to take. 

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

Sans woke up panting, eyelights materializing and analyzing his surroundings. WHAT? 

He couldn’t believe it, there was no way… He was back in his room, back in his world- well the one he’d been in before. There was so much to process, his new surroundings aside- their last foe had been someone they’d trusted. And yet she almost killed y/n… had she even known who she was attacking? There were so many questions rattling around his skull as his magic buzzed in his bones. He needed to check on them, he needed to make sure they made it back. Normally he’d shortcut straight to their room but his magic was sluggish and unresponsive. He’d just have to run.

He managed to make it down the stairs without falling and stumble a few more steps before he heard voices. NO NONONO FUCK! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!

“AH RANT, YOU’RE AWAKE! RANT?” He had to brace himself on the couch, his center of gravity was much different than his avatar’s “RANT ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” Paps knelt to his level and looked him over

“I’m Fine, Let Me Go-!” The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip as he tried to get past to the door “I SAID LET ME GO! I NEED TO CHECK ON THEM!” 

“WHO? RANT TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG.” He just kept struggling, but everything was getting fuzzy as his soul was settling back in his proper body. “Can You Tell Me Where You Are?” More people were walking in, having been drawn from the dining room by their voices. 

“WHERE!? I'M HERE WITH YOU AT THE HOUSE- NOW LET ME GO!” more voices joined the conversation but they all started to run together.

“rant? dude what’s wrong!?” 

“THE HELL IS HIS PROBLEM?”

“huh, so the shortstack does have eyelights”

“bro?” his eyelights sharpened and shrank on his brother and he felt tears prick his sockets. 

“Papyrus?” The soft copy let him go as he stumbled into his brother’s arms. Stars he really hoped this wasn’t an illusion, but the comfort of his brother’s magic reassured him. “It’s Really You…” 

“sans? sans what happened?” Rant just shook his head, his voice leaving him. Had that all just been a dream? It didn’t feel like it, there was no way a dream could be that real. He could remember with clarity how vivid it all was, the blood- the pain- the party that was just so full of life despite their situation- their bard. His gaze hardened. 

He may not be able to do anything in his current state but there was one other person who was close enough to y/n to have a shortcut straight to them. Rant forced his voice to settle and pinned his friend with his stare 

“RUS.” The skeleton stiffened “YOU NEED TO GET TO Y/N, THEY SHOULD BE IN THEIR ROOM” 

“bro, sans you need to breathe with me you’re friend is fine.” He ignored his brother, not looking away from Rus. 

“RUS I CAN’T USE MY MAGIC” The room stilled around him but he persisted, dragging the younger skeleton closer and dropping his volume “You’re All They Have Right Now.

Seeing his hesitance Rant quickly amended his plea. “If I'm Wrong And They’re Fine I’ll Owe You- I Don’t Care- Just please…” 

Rus swallowed, settled his frantic magic, and nodded before stepping out of Rant’s slackened grip into nowhere. 

“sans i know you like bein dramatic but yer really startin to worry me- what happened, what’s wrong with yer magic.” Rant took a deep breath before looking up at Mutt and muttering into his brother’s hoodie

“I’ll Tell You Tonight” Shifting he let his tears fall and grabbed at the fabric in front of him “ I-I DON’T KNOW I JUST- I WOKE UP BUT WHAT I SAW- IT WAS TOO GRAPHIC TO NOT BE REAL AND I...” Rant took a shuddering breath “ IN IT Y/N- THEY GOT HURT BUT I CAN’T CALM DOWN ENOUGH TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.” He looked away from the crowd to the ground and flinched at the annoyed responses of some of them- mad at him for interrupting dinner over a nightmare and unaware of the satisfaction each rude comment brought him. 

He couldn’t help but thank his old reputation as an attention seeking drama queen, this was his easiest coverup yet. Rant wiped his tears and started the process of evening out his breathing

Stars, it felt so good to be back in his own body. He settled into his brother’s embrace, hugging him back. He’d missed him so much. 

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

Blackjack hadn’t exactly been thrilled when you had showed up, he was quite the opposite if he was being honest. He didn’t like taking a back seat while a teenager piloted his body, sue him. But unlike you’d think he didn’t despise you, It was obvious that neither you nor your friends had been expecting a body switch to happen by the end of the first day. But then nearly 5 years later you’d made a deal with good old gertrude, accepted yet another experimental curse, and next thing the dragonborn knew he had his body back.

The next few months were interesting to say the least, he stuck with the party and quietly delighted in how your companions turned to him when they meant to talk to you and expected him to do things he’d never do. You were different then him, kinder, a total bard, and frankly he’s just glad that all those curses you’d brought onto the two of you had transferred. He could deal with a few extra scars if that was the trade off. 

You did have a couple similarities though, your shared love of gambling, ale, and women. 

The two of you were talking about just that, naming your favorite flirtatious endeavors over the years you’d spent as him- of which there were many, including lady victoria. It wasn’t exactly hard for him to pick up where you had left off but something told him there was something more to the parties’ friend in high places. As good of a rogue as you were you were oblivious to the lady’s growing infatuation, one of the many reasons why the other rogue became the king of thieves rather than you… or him??? Regardless the look on Victoria’s face when he’d introduced you stuck with him, he decided to keep you close for now just in case

You were at the back of the group, his steps slowed drastically to match yours, though you still had to fast walk to keep up with his much longer legs. You were going on about a tiefling academic you’d hit it off with a while back, the one who’d inspired and helped you develop a spell of your own. It was cheesy, a healing spell for those with ‘high charisma’ as you put it that utilized the castor’s kiss. It was effective and Blackjack won’t deny using it on his own to woo the occasional maiden. 

You went on and on and he could envision the tiefling in question, commenting about other features as you raved about her cute freckles, when he felt a prickle in his scales. Before anyone could react you were in a figure’s hold with a blade to your throat.

Suddenly the air crackled with electricity as the trigger happy sorcerer unleashed a Thunder Wave. Blackjack braced himself for the impact, feeling something wet and warm splatter onto his tunic. He rushed towards your prone body, yelling for help from the cleric only to curse when they had run out of spell slots. 

He sighed, his breath appearing a soft glowing yellow in front of him, he never thought he’d have to use your spell in a serious situation- especially not on you. As he pulled away from your cheek the words manifested on your skin, magic runes snaked down to your neck- glowing that same pale yellow. They ran over your wound until there was no more area to cover and slowly faded as your body repaired itself. 

That wouldn’t be enough. The cleric took you from his hold and started pumping on your chest, trying to force air into your lungs in practiced motions. Your blood covered the pathway and the two of them as they tried to keep you from choking on it. 

Looking back to the fight Blackjack saw the rogue known as Rumor- the one you called Sans- in the very heart of the battle. He sucked in a breath as he heard their foe cry out, Veronica. He was right, but he held no satisfaction in that. She tried to plead, to escape, but that rogue wouldn’t let her. Blow after blow he refused to stop.

Blackjack looked back to you as you spat up blood, finally breathing on your own, and he couldn’t help but pity any fool that tried to come between the two of you. Just friends my ass

Suddenly his attention was pulled from you to the cleric, who was outlined in a fading golden glow along with the rest of the party, who slowly came back to themselves

“Gods above that boy made a mess!” Rumor, the real one he assumed, looked on the body with disgust. Lady Veronica was unrecognizable.

“I assume y’all are back in control then?” Y/n sat up with help. Their voice was raspy, they were still glowing, and when they coughed into their hand their fingertips were fading away. They focused on their now bloody hand and chuckled “Must take bodies longer to transport than souls I guess. For what it’s worth it’s nice to meet you all.”

It couldn’t have taken more than 3 minutes of chatting before they were almost gone.

“It was nice knowin ya player”

“Heh yeah, I’ll miss getting my ass kicked at poker…” You surprised him with a look of sincerity and fondness, trapping his gaze onto you “Thanks for everything Blackjack.”

With one more smile and a farewell wish that we look out for ourselves they vanished back to where they came from. They really were kinder than they had any right to be

Blackjack stood with a sigh and without a word turned around to head back to the tavern they’d stayed in previously. He didn’t know about the others but he could use a drink, and it’d take many many more before he’d ever admit that he alread missed his stupid little protege.

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

Rus wasn’t sure what he was expecting, when Papyrus had gone to get Rant for dinner he figured his friend was just exhausted from participating in your club. The three of you had become fast friends after him and the other ‘undesirable’ skeletons were relocated away from the main house’s relationship issues. 

From what he’d been told you didn’t run into Rant despite having had your face in your phone, doing a little twirl to avoid the other skeleton last second - who had noticed your inattention and been gunning for you from down the hall. Which was just like him, always looking to start something. You’d peaked his interest and after a little chat in the halls he’d let you go to your next class until lunch. 

Rus remembered you had looked so nervous and anxious when Rant had dragged you over to their seats across the lunchroom,literally, but you’d engaged and chatted with the shorter skeleton regardless. And while it took a little time he’d started chatting with you as well, since- as it turned out- the two of you were in the same graphic design course. 

It wasn’t hard to convince the two of them to tag along with you to the DnD club come second semester, Rant had come prepared with a binder full of paper for notes and a separate stack for his character sheet, he’d come up with lots of backstory for his character- meanwhile Rus had a singular almost empty character sheet and took all of the session getting set up while you had multitasked helping him and participating in the pre-game exposition. 

That was only a little over 5 hours ago, so when Rant had come down in a panic with a look that had dread coursing through his bones Rus was a little skeptical something had happened to you. But something told him there was more to it, and the desperation on his friend’s face alone was enough to spur him into action. He wouldn’t take any chances, not with someone he cared about

The moment he opened his sockets his gaze was drawn to your bed and he felt any and all composure he’d mustered up leave him. 

“Y/n!?” A faint glow dissipated as he rushed to your side, crawling onto the bed to get to you in your confined space as he gathered you into his arms. Fuck there’s so much blood, Why-What-How??? Fuck!

He hesitated to take your pulse, the blood around your neck still wet. He couldn’t tell where it all came from and he nearly screamed when your hand shot up and grabbed his, your other clamping around his teeth. Rus jerked back and the motion sent the both of you tumbling off the bed, but you managed to catch him and brace a hand against the wall just past him- effectively stopping the two of you. 

The two of you sat like that for a second before you exhaled, the tension breaking Rus began to fuss over you. 

“Y/n what the fuck happened to you- did Rant have something to do with this? are you okay? do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“No! Nonono I’m fine-”

“You’re Covered In-!” You shushed him, almost covering his face again before he caught your hands. He turned one of your palms towards you, it was the one you’d previously been coughing into and shook the offending arm for emphasis “See!!!” You looked past the skeleton at the wall, there was a bloody handprint you’d have to clean off and you could spot some on one of Rus’ hands 

You shook your head and got back on track, fixing your tall friend with a serious look

“Look Rus, I don’t need a hospital. I just need to get cleaned up and maybe get a bandaid or two. I’m okay, promise.” He only frowned, searching your face before sighing

“you owe me an explanation later.”

“You probably won’t believe me.” You said with a tired chuckle

You scooched off of your bed and slipped off your pack, letting it hit the floor with a thunk and various muted clinks and clangs from your supplies, kits, and other odds and ends.

“can i ask about the wardrobe change now or should i wait?” You snickered as you fiddled with the various buckles attaching your scabbards and pouches to your person before thinking better of it and reaching for the pin clasping the ends of your cloak together and removing the garment. “Is That A Fucking Sword Y/N What The Hell!?!?” 

Your laughter only grew louder as you nodded wordlessly with a grin, looking back at your awestruck friend- who had moved to his knees at the end of the bed, leaning closer to get a better look. 

“Yeah, It ties in with the explanation but yeah it’s real! All of it is- wanna hold?” You’d explained excitedly as you quickly got the straps undone and off your body, removing your shortsword and it’s scabbard from the ensemble and holding it out towards Rus. He took it tentatively before sitting back to admire it. 

You watched on with a proud look on your face, your smile growing when he unsheathed the blade and you caught his eyelights expand before zoning in on the engraving along the blade. It was a simple enough sword but one of your friends had enchanted it for you way back at the beginning when you all were still discovering and learning your class’ skills and you’d kept it close ever since. 

Switching gears you started taking off your armor, which thankfully had taken most of the blood as well as your cloak- leaving your tunic nearly spotless this time around. There was a little soaked in around the collar but it was manageable. In a stroke of genius you grabbed a pair of sweatpants, telling Rus to stay where he was you moved to the alcove in your room that didn’t have your bed and quickly changed pants, throwing your boots and pants into the pile of adventuring gear before smearing blood across your face from your nose. 

A mischievous grin spread across your face when you turned towards your companion

“How do I look?” when you got a concerned look in response your grin only grew “Great! I’ll be right back!” Rushing down the stairs you covered your nose, raising your voice so the whole room could hear you

 “Hey mom?! I don’t know what happened but I got a really bad nosebleed- can I wash some things?” 

Your mother turned from the TV to look at you, eyes widening in surprise and concern “Of course, What happened?”

“I don’t know! I woke up and there was blood everywhere. I think It stopped but it got all over my bed.” 

“Here, let me strip your sheets- you get cleaned up.” 

“Oh no, you don’t gotta do that.! I can get it, just give me a sec.” You tried to wave her off but she insisted, already heading up your stairs. Aaaah fuck Rus isn’t supposed to be here he didn’t use the door!!! 

You felt rather than heard the pop of magic in the air and sighed, You’d have to get with him later, but for now you had blood to clean. You absently wondered if rubbing alcohol worked on leather.

Getting back to your room you looked around and found that all your gear- which you had completely forgotten also shouldn’t have been there- was piled up in the same place you had previously changed, hidden from view of your mother. You also found your phone plugged up on your bed with messages on it’s screen

~Rus~

-text me after dinner 

-i’ll come over w/ rant and you can explain 

Rant? Who’s-OOOOOHHH!!!! Right multiverse shenanigans, Sans is Rant here. As you were going to unlock your phone you got another text from the aforementioned skeleton himself

~Rant~

-RUS SAID YOU WERE ALIVE. I’LL BE TELLING MY BROTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO US IF YOU WOULD…

The message cut off, which concerned you until you remembered that you’d have to enter the app to get the full message since it was so long. Inputting your passcode you re-read the full text

-RUS SAID YOU WERE ALIVE. I’LL BE TELLING MY BROTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO US IF YOU WOULD BE UP TO COMING OVER AND EXPLAINING IT TOGETHER? I’D BE NICE TO NOT LOOK INSANE IN FRONT OF MY ONLY FAMILY

-We’ll see if I can make it after dinner, I owe Rus an explanation too. He actually just texted and said he’d come over with you so /I/ can tell /y'all/ what happened

-You slipped up by the way, you live with your ~cousins~ remember?

-YOU’D BETTER COME OVER…

His bubble appeared and disappeared before he finally responded

- BITE ME PEASANT

-Kinky~

-But also sleep sounds great though

-I HOPE YOUR HANGOVER KILLS YOU

You pocketed your phone with a smirk as you hopped off your bed. Some reheated leftovers sounded amazing right about now, you feel like you could eat a whole feast. You glanced over at your things and considered your unending flask of honey mead before thinking better of it. Sans- fuck RANT- was right. That healing spell would give you a major hangover after you woke up, especially with how much it had to heal. You shivered as you felt your own mortality weigh down on you. 

You’d almost died again, and there were no more resurrection scrolls- especially now that you were home. Your eyes drifted back to the flask…

It couldn’t hurt to celebrate a little could it? Not only are you alive but you’re home! Besides you’re already going to hate life in the morning, why not enjoy a few swigs before that cliff?

You took a long drink and closed the flask, burying it under your things before making your way down the stairs to get something to eat. It wasn’t long after that you were in your usual spot on the couch watching TV with your family and laughing together. You’d even gotten a hug from your mom during a sad scene, and if she noticed you crying a bit more than you meant to then she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t totally unheard of for you to shed a few tears for fiction after all.

[talpup]

Lost Song: 2

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

***So this fic will have a LOT more world building than my others.  Please feel free to comment or send me an ask if you have any questions.  

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009679/chapters/57812554

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going.  Your friendship means the world to me.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

2.1

“Why are we waiting out in the hall?”  Teris asked, eyeing the closed double doors.

“Because.” Twice snapped.  “I’m sorry Mistress.  Ilca dorms are protected.” The House Elf went on in meek apology.  “One can’t enter unless a member of the resident Ilca or invited in by one.”  Seeing a copy of himself Twice turned and demanded.  “Have you seen Aizawa?  He’s making the Mistress wait.”

The copy escorting Hizashi shook his head in answer and scolded. “Remember what Nedzu said.  No calling the Mistress, Mistress.”

Twice huffed at his copy, waving him away.

As if sucked into a whirlpool, the copy spun around and disappeared.

“Wha--” Hizashi shook his head.  The sight, though astounding, wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen these last two days.  “Teris!” Hizashi rushed to her.

Twice stepped in Hizashi’s way, a warding hand outstretched.  “No touching the Mistress!”

“Hey.” Teris snapped.  “I’m not your Mistress.  And he’s my friend.”

“Weak, unknowing friend.”  Twice snipped, his next words smooth and sweeter.  “The Mistress is too kind.”

Hizashi stepped around the House Elf and hugged Teris in a warm, friendly embrace.  Though they had only met each other a couple days ago they were in this boat together.  Cast adrift in unknown waters. Surrounded by literal monsters, all be it in human form, and told that this was their new home.  Their new life.  An experience like that would make fast friend's of anyone.

Teris stiffened but accepted Hizashi's hug.  She couldn’t say why she felt a protective instinct over Hizashi.  The sense of kinship was easily explained by the upheaval they were both going through.  But her guarded jealousy of him was different.  It wasn’t romantic. More familial.  Only deeper.  More binding.  Hizashi was hers.  And in a sense a part of her.

“How was the person who will be helping you learn?  Did they treat you well?”  If they didn’t I’ll be paying them a visit, she thought.

“Oboro? Yeah!  He seems like a fun guy.  He’s some kind of wind spirit called a Venti though he seemed pretty solid to me.  What about you?”

“Kai was… alright.”

Neither saw Twice’s lip curl at the mention of the Dragon.

Hizashi frowned.  “You don’t sound so sure.  Maybe they’ll let you come with me.  Oboro was really nice.”

“You heard what Yagi and Director Nedzu said about the difference of divisions.  Apparently I’m a beast and need to be taught by one.”

Twice nodded firmly.  “Kind for kind.  Fourth’s learn best from their own.  If no direct species can be found, genus, order, class, phylum, and lastly division kind for kind must be sought.  The closer line of connection.  The better it is for all.  Less chance of death and devastation.”

“Death and devastation!”  Teris balked.

“Too loud.”  A rough, low voice complained.  Shouta fixed tired eyes on Twice.  “Sprite.  Quit scaring my Ilca.”

“I’m not scaring.  Yes I am!  The Mistress must be protected.  You’re late!”

Shouta's eyebrows pulled together.  Mistress?  He mouthed the word, wondering at it.  Too exhausted to contemplate the idiosyncrasies of the clearly insane House Elf, he simply dismissed.  “Go away.”

Damn his class, Shouta thought, rubbing the back of his stress tightened neck.  He loved and would die for his students.  But on days like today, he just wanted to bind them all with his capture weapon, throw them in a dungeon, and forget they existed for a couple of weeks while he caught up on some much needed sleep.

Bakugou and Midoriya especially had been in rare form this afternoon.  It had been as if the two finally found something they agreed upon something.  And that thing had been testing him.  The Basilisk was extra aggressive toward everyone, spitting literal venom at his friends.  And Midoriya…  The Thoth was even more interested in exploring the limits of his own immortality.  As if the kid had read in one of his books that today was some great day to die.

Naturally, Midoriya had ended up at the healers.  Again.  And when Shouta went to check on him at the end of the day he had gotten an earful from Shuzenji. The old Nagual admonishing him to inform Midoriya what she no doubt told the boy every time he ended up in the healers. That just because Fourth’s were immortal didn’t mean they couldn’t die.

Twice spun around to Hizashi, remembering the questions and conversation he had bothered his copy with.  “You...”

There was an audible pop that left Hizashi's ears feeling as if he hadn’t swallowed during an altitude change.  For a moment he thought the House Elf had disappeared.  But quickly realized that wasn’t the case.  Twice had shrunk in size.  He remembered what Oboro had said about true forms and wondered it this was Twice’s.  It was cute.

Before Hizashi could ooh and aah, Twice went on, voice sounding as if he had taken a drag of helium.  “Don’t speak to me unless you have a task or order that falls within my domain.”

“Sorry…” Hizashi’s apology sounded more like a question.

Pitch growing higher, Twice continued to shrink like a deflating balloon, he bowed to Teris.  “Mistress.  If ever you need anything.  Don’t call!  Don’t hesitate to call.”

Shouta’s eyes narrowed.  House Elves cared nothing for the inhabitants of the house.  The only thing that mattered to them was the house itself. The reason they did things such as cook and clean was because it kept the place well ordered and running smoothly.  They weren’t servants.  More like mildly malevolent caretakers of the home that tolerated the residents because things, including homes, went mad when left alone.  So why was Twice offering assistance?

His headache pulsed in his temples.  Shouta grunted and ordered.  “Off with you.”

Twice hissed at the Sphinx, finally disappearing fully with a pop as he shrunk totally in on himself.

Hizashi blinked at the space Twice had been.  “Well that was… interesting.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”  Shouta sighed pushing passed them to get to the door.

He pushed one of the large double doors open and paused.  New Ilca members usually swore something when Binding to an Ilca clan.  From what he understood it was normally along the lines of being loyal to the Ilca clan they were joining and its purpose.

Shouta sighed.  To hell with it.  He was too tired to deal with all that. The two Foundling’s were lucky that he came by the dorm at all.  A part of him had been tempted to leave them out of the secure housing that was, or at least use to be, his private sanctuary.  It wasn’t as if Traverseen Hall didn’t have countless comfortable sitting or meeting rooms for the two to bed down in.  But that would have hardly made for a good first impression.  And, like it or not, these two were to be members of his Ilca.  For the sake of peaceful cohabitation some effort had to be made.

“Welcome. I accept you, or whatever.”  Shouta mumbled stepping in and holding the door for them.

There. It was done.  The Bind was set.  He officially had two members in his Ilca.

“I’m Yamada Hizashi.”  Hizashi held out a hand.

Shouta nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.  All he wanted was to get a few winks of sleep before it was time to go out on patrol.  Just exchange names he drowsily told himself.  Don’t be rude.  For the sake of peaceful cohabitation, just try to be nice.

“Good for you.”  Shouta stifled a yawn.

Teris stepped forward.  “Are we boring you?”

Shouta turned to the woman for the first time.  His sight sharpened his senses enough for his weary mind to register the warm electric feeling that had been buzzing deep within him.  Her.  She was… Beautiful.  No.  Well, yes.  She was beautiful.  But that wasn’t what the tingling feeling was.  Her powers aura.  She was of ancient pedigree.

Suddenly Shouta felt wide awake.  “Not in the least.”  He cleared his throat, noticing Hizashi's hand.  Clasping the blonde’s forearm with a hand, he gave a firm squeeze of greeting.  “Aizawa. Shouta.”  He turned back to Teris.  “And you are?”

“Nova Teris.”  She took one look at Shouta's outstretched hand and pointedly turned away.  The man was rude.  He had already hurt Hizashi's feelings.  She didn’t like him.

Hand falling to his side without a care of her snub, Shouta set down the stack of homework that needed grading.  “I don’t have much stored in the kitchen.  But call for Twice.  He’ll complain about it, but will make you whatever you want.  You two do know how to call for the House Elf, don’t you?”

Hizashi nodded, smiling.  Happy to actually know something.  Oboro had taught him how to do it earlier in the day.  It wasn’t so much the name as the will behind it.

“Twice!” Hizashi called.

“No! Don’t--”

But it was too late.  Twice appeared.

Shouta glared at Hizashi, unsuccessfully stifling a growl.

“What is it?  How may I help you?”  Twice asked.

“Go away.”  Shouta ordered.

Within the confines of the dorms Shouta had claimed as Ilca leader, Twice was forced to obey whether he wanted to or not.  The House Elf disappeared.

“It was a question.  Not a test.  What are you?  One of my students?”

Teris moved between the glaring man and Hizashi.  “And what are you?  An asshole?  It was an easy mistake.  You’d think as a teacher you’d know how to be more clear with your questions.”

Shouta's head tilted.  He took in Teris’ protective stance and smirked. “Pack beast.”

“What did you call me?”

Shouta all but rolled his eyes.  “You hear me.  Are you simply looking to be offended?  You might not know much, but I know for a fact you were told you were a beast.”

Teris glared.

“What?” Shouta huffed.  “I stated a fact.  It’s not like I called you an asshole.”

“Because I wasn’t acting like one.”  Teris retorted.

“That’s debatable.”

Hizashi’s eyes darted between the two.  He hated conflict.  “So!  What are you?”

Shouta turned to the loud blonde.  Why was he so loud?  Maybe it just seemed that way because he was overtired.  His exhaustion returned, making his shoulders sag.  “Sphinx.”

“Can we see your true form?”  Hizashi asked, brightly.

“No. True forms aren’t some parlor trick.”  He heard Teris’ low growl and struggled not to growl in return.

Damn it.  So much for good first impressions and peaceful cohabitation. Shouta opened his mouth to tell the sad looking Hizashi maybe later, but thought better of it.  He wasn’t the best at socializing; and his temper and exhaustion clearly weren’t helping him.  The longer he stayed the worse he would make of this.

“Look. I got patrol in less than an hour.  There’s eight open quarters to chose from.  Pick whichever one you like.  You know how to call Twice if you need him.  Please.  For your sake and mine.  Don’t call the House Elf unless it’s to give an order that has to do with some sort of household chore.  They can be spiteful when offended. Causing inconveniences ranging from too cold or too hot rooms. Blaring light at night.  Damp or torn clothes.  Or worse, clothes washed in a Tongons sty.  And their grudges can last for centuries.”

Hizashi deflated even further at that.  “H—how do you make it up to them?”

“You don’t.”  Shouta said simply.  He made for the door and opened it. “And don’t go destroying my—our place.  It’s the only sanctuary I have.”

2.2

Hari found Kai in their Ilca dorms library.  Seeing various books stacked and open on the nine large tables, the Arepyiai inquired. “Something I can help you search for, Sir?”

“Just looking for adequate material for my pupil to read.”  Kai muttered without looking up for the tome his was skimming.

“The Foundling?”

“Teris. She has a name, Hari.  And seems proud enough to demand its use.” Kai finished, softly.

Though the Dragons last words were meant for himself, Hari’s keen ears heard them.  The Spirit raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t think you would take Nedzu’s assignment so seriously.”

“How so?”

“With as busy as you are, I thought you would pass her instruction on to one of the others.”

Kai snapped the book shut.  “Would you like to instruct the Beast on the way of things?”

There was something almost possessive in Kai’s gold eyes.  Hari found his own gray gaze, lowering.  “I live to serve.”

At the proper response, Kai’s expression eased.  “The Rat would hear about it if I pushed his tiresome task off on someone else.  Nedzu’s already watchful enough.  I’d rather not give him further excuse to stick his nose in my affairs.  Besides, the aura of Teris’ power was... ancient.”  He paused, remembering the tug of hope he had felt for a brief moment.  The split second thought that he wasn’t alone.  That another dragon had been found.  A queen to rule at his side and help see his plans come to fruition.  Kai shook away the memory and put the book in the maybe pile.  “Who knows. Depending on what her species turns out to be, she might be found worthy of becoming a follower.  But that would first require proper instruction.”

Hari nodded.

Dismissing the Arepyiai with a wave, Kai ordered.  “Just be sure to tell the Ilca to be mindful during the day.  Having her around will be a bit of an inconvenience.  But it might be worth it.”

2.3

Shouta landed on the large balcony outside his quarters.  Though there were luscious plants and a soothing fountain, the terrace was more than just some pretty place to sit and look at.  It’s main purpose was as launching post, or in this case a landing pad for large fliers.

Though the place was littered with seating areas and clumping sections of green, there was just enough space for him to land comfortably while in his true form.  He had tried clearing out the space of its fountain and plants.  But Twice’s wrath wasn’t worth the headache, and so he had left it.  So long as he didn’t have to tend to the flora he didn’t really care.  If he were honest, it was nice to look at.  Not that he ever had the time to do so.

The Sphinx stretched out his dabbled grey and black wings and shook out his wavy, black mane relishing these last few moments of being in his true form.  It confounded how everyone else seemed perfectly happy to keep to their human forms.  It made him wonder if no one else felt like they were breathing through a heavy mask.

For Shouta, it felt as if the world was seen through a too small window while in human form.  As if he were touching things through a thick gloved hand.  He wondered if maybe that was part of the reason for Bakugou's constant outbursts.  That, like him, the Basilisk didn’t care for his human form.  Only with Bakugou being younger and of a more volatile species, the Basilisk reacted by taking the dissociative discomfort out on those around him.

It wasn’t that Shouta didn’t appreciated the distinct abilities that came with being in human form; but those abilities could often feel minute when he was forced to spend roughly ninety percent of his day, everyday, in what felt like thick gelatin.

Sighing he returned to his human form, hands opening and closing, missing his claws.  He opened the door and entered, already half asleep.  Mind focused on the single thought of bed he didn’t fully register the warm, sweet scent that greeted him upon entering.  Only that the smell was nice.  Comforting.

The large, hard, cold bed pulled him toward it like a gravitational force.  Uncaring about his clothes, Shouta fell face first into the warm, soft mattress.  Wait.  Warm?  Soft?

The soft, warmth moved and started to rise beneath him.  Shouta's head pulled off the plush pillow.  His hand pushed the warm, soft back down.

“Lights!”

At the same time a female voice cried out.  “Twice!”

This was the second time Teris had banished his foggy, exhaustion and got his blood pumping.  Laying on top of her, Shouta realized that the pillow his face had been buried had been her breasts.  His blood heated, pumping all the harder.  Hand on one of the perfect, soft twin mounds, he squeezed ever so slightly.

Teris’ eyes dart from the Sphinx’s groping hand to his handsome-- No!  Not handsome, face.  “Do you mind?”

The sharp, sternness of her voice pulled Shouta's eyes up from the breast his hand was on.  It really was a beautifully formed tit.  Too bad it was attached to an ill tempered, bothersome woman who shouldn’t be in his bed.

“Not all.”  Shouta’s hand gave another squeeze, this one firmer.  He heard her breath catch.  Felt her nipple harden against his palm.  He smirked, voice dropping an octave.  “Clearly you don’t either.”

“Off! Get off!”  Teris shoved him.

Shouta didn’t budge, arrogantly showing his power over her.  With one last gentle squeeze he knelt up and got out of bed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  And where’s Twice?  Twice!”

Shouta shook his head.  She would wake up all of Traverseen Hall crying out like a Banshee.  “The House Elf isn’t allow in my quarters while I’m here.”

“You—You’re quarters?”

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  Was it the lighting and his exhaustion?  Or had there be a slight physical sharpening of her features?  “That’s right. Could you not tell this room was taken?”

Hugging the blanket to her chest, Teris looked about the space exasperated. “How, Aizawa?  How was I suppose to tell?  There’s nothing in here but limited furnishings.  Not an ounce of anything personal. It’s not like the door had your name on it.”

She realized with a start that the smell.  The warm and comforting scent should have been a clue.  The other chambers she checked out hadn’t had that distinct, somewhat earthy musk.  Her eyes widened as she realized the scent was purely Aizawa’s and hated herself for having liked it.

Cheeks colored in angry embarrassment, Teris tripped out of bed.  “This is your fault.”

“My fault?  How so?”  Shouta crossed his arms, both annoyed and amused.

“You should've stuck around.”

“Forgive me, Princess.  I have a job to do.  Two in fact.  Babysitting you wasn’t something I signed up for.  I don’t know what it was like before you were found but I’m not here to serve and cater to your whims.”

Teris glared.

Shouta stared.  There it was again.  The barest sharpening of her features that looked almost bird-like.  The world around them faded as his mind worked furiously.  A feeling of awe and foreboding grew deep in his chest.

She was a pack beast.  Had clearly claimed Hizashi as a member of her pack.  Prideful.  Jealousy protective of what she had claimed.  Her power had an ancient aura.  And Twice…  Twice called her Mistress. What had Traverseen Hall originally been before it was a school and home of the area Ilca?  That’s right. Before the Fall of Crowns that saw the end of the Dragon-Griffon War.  Traverseen Hall had been the home of a griffon pride.  Built long before the Dragon-Griffon War for one of the oldest, proudest griffon prides there ever was.

[unadulteratedkr]

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite  works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them  below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world.  tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can  spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by the talented and indomitable @ajoblotofjunk! I considered saving this for when I eventually HAVE 5 completed works, but I thought it would be a nice way of keeping myself focused, and also share a little bit of what you can expect from me next! So we’re celebrating my future as well as my recent past, since I’ve only been an active creator in this fandom for a few months

1. My Fair Maiden: This fic is my baby and she’s responsible for me writing for the J/B fandom in the first place! I messaged @ajoblotofjunk to see if they knew of any existing My Fair Lady AUs and then just decided to just write it myself within like... a week of my rejoining Tumblr after about a 3 year hiatus. It’s been such a learning curve, but every time I go back and re-read bits of it for the chapter I’m working on, I love seeing how much I’ve progressed as a writer; going from directly translating dialogue from the play to fit the characters to learning to step back and just pull from the play only when I need to. It’s a blast writing this, and I can’t wait to keep sharing it with y’all.

2. It’s Only a Matter of Time: GUESS WHAT, IT’S ANOTHER STORY I CAN BLAME ON @ajoblotofjunk 😂😂😂 (Also a little bit the fault of @ladyinredfics‘ original post that started our feelings chat in the first place) All it took was me saying, “Just wait, there are SO many Eliza Hamilton/Brienne parallels that will fuck you up” and the rest is history. I genuinely couldn’t go to bed after we chatted about Eliza/Brienne feels until I had written about half of this one-shot and outlined the second half. The icing on the cake was definitely me losing my mind over how much show!Jaime shared with A. Ham. I loved writing this for a couple of reasons. One, I challenged myself to see if I could come up with a stylistic way of storytelling unique to Tarth, hoping by doing so, I could explore the journey Brienne had experienced through love, betrayal and eventual forgiveness without it just being her saying “Hey this is what my life and emotional arc was when I fought in like six wars”. Two, this fic has my favorite final line because I shamelessly stole from the acutal writings of Alexander Hamilton, and damn, the man had a way with words I can only hope to attain.

3. All Full with Feasting: If I ever find the opportunity to get drunk near or with Gwendoline Christie, I will need a chaperone to ensure I don’t yell at her for starring in The Video That Started It All. Halfway through watching Gwen erotically eat food, I felt my brain short-circuit, and it wouldn’t let me resume normal thinking until I shamelessly forced one Jaime Lannister to take a thinly veiled Gwen!Brienne home and give her the loving attention she so clearly deserved. I also liked that it felt like... smut that I believe in? Like, Jaime’s inner monologue about not understanding people that talk about how sweet a woman tastes is literally my own internal monologue (sorry not sorry if that’s TMI ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

The next two are WIPs I’ve only outlined!

4. Untitled Jaime/Brienne/Margaery piece: This one.... it’s gonna be a weird one. There are three things you’ll need to know. One: Margaery is a ghost in it. Two: she’s not quite haunting Brienne, but she’s hanging around B because she doesn’t know how to pass on to the other side. Three: Margaery died before Brienne could tell her she loved her. Add a kind but emotionally inarticulate Jaime Lannister to the mix, and you’ve got a lot of mess for two people and a ghost to work through. This fic is why I wanted to throw my hat into the ring on writing smut in a non-serious manner first, because I wanted to get some practice in before I apply it to this story. Because there’s going to be some smut that gets complicated, and I needed to know I could write it at all before I started writing it for this. I play in this fic’s sandbox about twice a week because I know I’m not quite ready to write it yet, but I know finishing My Fair Maiden and allowing myself to continue banging out one-shots and eventually prompts will give me the confidence in my skills to make this story work.

5. Murder on the Valyrian Express: This one is probably going to be a pretty standard AU adaptation, but I’m really looking forward to imitating and playing with Agatha Christie’s deep dive into the psychology of murder. Here’s a slice of the synopsis for you: when  Petyr Baelish is murdered on the train journey from Essos to King’s Landing, Varys Edderkopp learns he used to be known as Littlefinger, the man responsible for the death of Lyanna Mormont.

I don’t know if any of my creator mutuals haven’t already been tagged yet, so if you haven’t... consider yourself tagged!

[seenashwrite]

The Fall ‘18/Winter ‘19 Edition of…

It’s a better-late-than-never situation, but it’s finally here!

*~* New to The Nail? *~*

The Nail isn’t about perfection. It isn’t about award-level contenders. It isn’t for highlighting certain genres of fics or specific ships. It’s about seeing real effort and hard work radiate off of the screen - the sole focus is quality. Character dimension. Writing with clever readers in mind. Well-built worlds. Killer starts and clutch endings. Crazy crisp dialogue. Incredibly tight plotting. More shows, less tells. Big emotion.

Find past editions HERE. Find what factors are considered when constructing this rec list, and learn how to get your recommendations to me HERE. Find info on the structure of these rec posts HERE, with answers to FAQs such as “Why did someone make up a title for my piece?”, and more.

>> The Basics On What’s Below <<

- All from the world of SPN (unless otherwise noted, i.e. cross-overs), across all genres; these are organized by length for the most part, so you’ll need to click thru to see if it is a theme of your preference; I aim to not have too much that’s of the same genre/length in a given edition, and limit the times a writer can appear on a given list (if they had more that fit the bill, I’ll chuck ‘em to next edition’s list); when applicable, unique projects, original stories, and any anecdotes/personal essays/family stories/etc. are near the end.

- You’ll see icons throughout…

If it has NSFW elements / walks an NSFW line - ⚠️

If it features / blatantly alludes to a specific ship - 🚢

If it has less than 100 notes (at time of this post) - 📌

And that last item is very important.

- A main priority of The Nail is to have at least 50% of these one-and-done SPN stories (so, drabbles and one-shots) be those which have less than 100 notes (give or take a few self-reblogs by the writer, and not counting mine) in each posting, and for this edition, out of 36, these comprise 26 so the goal was met!

Highly encourage you to at minimum hit the heart, ideally reblogging along with a note of feedback if you enjoyed. To do my part, I’ll be queuing these low-note fics one per day after this edition is published.

- Reblog of this rec list by “big blogs” (let’s say 1K followers and up) is especially appreciated, and not for my sake; it’s to get these wonderful writers with low note fics as much exposure as possible.

- Writers, make sure you scroll - you may be on here more than once!

- “Notes from Nash" at the very bottom of the post.

- For your mobile convenience, here’s The Nail Master Post of Editions

- And finally, shameless plugs....

 See Nash Write: Master List

You Totally Made That Up podcast - @youtotallymadethatup

Note: Just a line or two excerpt to paint a little picture - no specific feedback on these drabbles because each writer nailed it in the entirety - all are poignant, well-structured, thoughtful, and they did it all in a limited amount of words. Well done, all of you. 

181 words

The Wishes 📌  -  @sixtysevenandwhiskey 

It’s a lot of nothing, until nothing is all there is.

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182 words

Stars 📌  -  @covered-byroses

She loved looking at the stars.

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223 words

Storytelling 📌  -  @always-keep-writing

He shouldn’t be surprised that it ends up being a story.

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230 words

A Long Forty Years  -  @babybluecas

Sometimes, he’d wish he was so much older.

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352 words

Control 📌 -  @idreamofhazel

If only Dean knew the other, more biting things he holds under his tongue.

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370 words

His Hair 📌 🚢  -  @gabrielfallstonight  

He often wondered if, by spending as much time on Earth as he did, he was growing almost human.

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427 words

Topper  -  @alleiradayne  

Coffee. He just needed a cup. Or four. Okay, maybe the whole pot.

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483 words

Tedium 📌  -  @smi727  

This situation was something Michael simply could not abide.

555 words

Kids These Days 📌  -  @revwinchester  

A little behind-the-scenes interlude wherein Dean has an interaction with some kids in town. In medias res, OCs developed in a short amount of space, thoughtful/nice message without being preachy.

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560 words

Four Months Expired (But Still Good) 📌 🚢  -  @bendingsignpost

A delightful scene based on a premise that could've gone saccharine but stays the just right amount of sweet and humorous.

(I cannot tag this lovely, if someone would be so kind as to try to do so in the comments, it would be appreciated!)

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570 words

Black 📌 - @sculptorofbeginningslibrary  

An introspective look at Dean in the time between waking up with his demonized soul and when he left the bunker; doesn't merely recap what we know; nice take on the physical changes; excellent characterization.

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633 words

Smoked  -  @ameliacareful

A snicker-worthy tale of what should be an ordinary shopping trip, but as we know nothing can ever be simple for the brothers; well-structured, solid characterization, concise  descriptions that put you right there with them.

(I cannot tag this lovely, if someone would be so kind as to try to do so in the comments, it would be appreciated!)

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664 words

Last Night  -  @atwistoffate

A brief interaction between you and Dean that is a perfect balance of snarky and cute, and (thank Chuck) Dean is portrayed realistically, and I personally salute the writer for not uttering a single Y/N or sweetheart (it can be done, folks). I'd also be remiss not to highlight this beauty: “You know what? I don’t even care,” Dean says, caring deeply.

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714 words

Stay  -  @there-must-be-a-lock

Absolutely beautiful moment between you and Sam that doesn't get weighed down by over-dramatic pining, in part thanks to a sandwich. In medias res; descriptions that paint the picture without diving too deep; lovely from beginning to end.  

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812 words

Carolina 📌  -  @atc74

A first-person, introspective tale of an interaction Dean has with a stranger. In medias res; sets the stage from the opening paragraph, putting you right into Dean's shoes; well-developed OC in short amount of time; great closing lines.

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841 words

Strange Gifts 📌 -  @lastactiontricia  

Michael gives you the "gift" of knowing your potential fates. In medias res; great structure/descriptions that convey the mood without being belabored; clutch open-ended ending.  

1.1K words

Syruped and Feathered 📌 -  @mrswhozeewhatsis

A snicker-worthy on-the-hunt tale where you and the Winchesters get in a... well... a sticky situation. Ahem. Sorry, couldn't resist. Oh, and there's a surprise guest star that'll make you grin. In medias res, nice flow, creative use of prompts.

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1.2K words

Don't Panic 📌  -  @koedeza

Beautifully written, somber tale about what eventually happens in the lives of hunters. In medias res, excellent structure/flow, fantastic characterization, clutch ending. Keep an eye out for this writer - they are consistently solid and do not disappoint.

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1.3K words

'Til It All Falls Apart 📌  -  @lipstickandwhiskey

Angst done right in this story about what Dean might've gone through after Michael was cast out. Good flow, no laborious explanations of what we already know, reasonable actions/reactions from all.

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1.4K words

Bite Me, BitFit 📌  -  @shy-violet-soul

Exactly what you think from the title - a funny story about Dean's battle with healthy living. In medias res, nice structure, great characterization, several killer lines.

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1.4K words

Eggshells 📌  -  @hunenka

A coda to Nightmare Logic, this tackles Dean's internal processing of life as he now knows it, Sam in charge and what feels like a million people in his home. Beautifully written, Dean is as accurate as it gets, excellent flow, plausible scenario.

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1.7K words

Told You So   -  @there-must-be-a-lock

How to do hot and sultry without smut - read and learn. This is a story about what should have been just an ordinary post-hunt night back at the bunker, when it turned to something more. Great opening paragraph, easy flow, trifecta of snarky-sweet-sexy.

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1.8K words

Brother 📌  -  @sixtysevenandwhiskey

An exquisite look - to use the writer's words - at Dean over the years, through Sam's eyes. Excellent structure/verbiage, no unneeded repetition of things we already know, good use of song inspo, plausible within canon, feels genuine throughout.

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1.8K words

The Lie 📌 -  @sophisticated-angel

Stunning tale (and add this to the pile of "Why the hell doesn't this have more notes?!" stories) about what happens to those who are left behind after a loved one dies - but as always in the Winchester world, nothing can ever be routine. In medias res, creative plotline, moving and heart-grabbing that leaves you with both a sense of rightness and a sense of unease.

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2.9K words

The Unexpected Guest  -  @crispychrissy 

Per the writer's summary - "A day of researching takes a turn when you see something from your past that leads to some interesting discoveries." But, wait - this is so much more. Pay attention as you read, because the writer has left you clues along the way (starting with the title), and it's done quite deftly. In addition - nice blending of humor and drama, time taken to research the creature featured clearly evident, clutch ending.

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3K words

Easier To Be Me 📌 -  @alleiradayne

A Sam + Reader story labelled "floof" by the writer, but it's sweet without bending saccharine; in medias res; great opening/closing lines.

[Nominated by @atc74 who said - “So I have read a couple things of hers, this I read a while ago, but it deserves some love, because it is just that good. Hope you like it This was so wonderful. Well written and beautiful."]

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3.1K words

Teeth 📌   -  @lastactiontricia

Do you want to read something spooky that’s based on a true story, with a fantastic plot that has roots in a true story, which features well-developed characterization/accuracy in characterization, and is - in case I didn’t mention it - based on a true story?!

Read this. Find you a cozy corner, grab the drink of your choice whether it’s bourbon or hot chocolate, wrap up in a blanket, and Read. The. Story. It is unique, it is well-written, quality top to bottom, and it’ll give you the feels, tips to toes. Stop wasting your time on the same ol’, same ol’.

READ THE STORY

(Part of a collection, all are fantastic, so see also: Halloween Horror SPN One Shots Masterlist)

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3.3K words

Lay Me Down 📌  -  @stusbunker

A solid case fic here that balances itself with some cheekiness thrown in amongst the drama (and a bonus for me, not a "Y/N" in sight - it can be done, folks). In medias res, moves at a quick clip, great line here: "The spell spread quickly, like spilled water on a tabletop..."

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4.9K words

Shadow's Edge 📌  -  @saenalife 

A story of what happened one night when a routine retrieval of an item goes sideways. In medias res, excellent opening line/paragraph that perfectly sets the scene/mood (I mean - "Dark seems like too shallow a word for this. It goes beyond the absence of light - more like the light has never existed here at all..." - hello), creative plot, great structure (specifically: flashback/forward done right), and bonus kudos for switching things up with a feature not seen with regularity, that of a gender neutral lead.

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5.6K words

The Wonders of Modern Technology ⚠️ -  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

If you aren’t familiar with Greenie, she’s another one of those rare writers ‘round these parts who gives us consistently solid stories with a unique style that’s all her own, and this one is no exception, a humorous tale of a piece of equipment that doesn’t exactly malfunction, but we’ll just say there’s, ah, user error [wink]. 

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5.7K words

Like Ocean in the Desert 📌⚠️  -  @saenalife

Borrowing the writer's summary - "Baby needs some work before Dean can get back on the road. He went to the salvage yard for parts, but what he found was a human connection." In medias res, well-developed OC, nice premise, great structure/flow.

[Nominated by @littlegreenplasticsoldier who said - "Here’s a prime example of notes misaligning with quality. Pfft. Criminal. This is the third time I’ve read this."]

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6.4K words

The First Bite 📌  -  @shy-violet-soul

A story from the way-back-when, and as for feedback, I’ll let the curator take it away....

[Nom'd by @mrswhozeewhatsis who said - "Confession: I love Weechesters. So, this fic was already up my alley from word one. Add in pie mentioned just in the author’s note, and I was already a happy camper! Imagine my surprise when I was sniffling halfway through because wee!Dean was just killing me! The OCs are very well fleshed out, without being distracting, and the whole story was just so well-written I finished it just wanting to hug everyone. The grammar and other technical stuff was at least flawless enough that I didn’t notice it, and the whole story just unfolded in front of me like a cootie-catcher. I think I’m in love, and I might go read it again, even though I should be writing. *swoon*"]

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6.8K words

Gutted  -  @idreamofhazel

A case fic with some Dean + Reader sweet-n'-sultry on top. Nice opening paragraph that sets the tone, solid characterization, very creative plot/creature featured, excellent structure.

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6.9K words

About Dean's Dreams   ⚠️ -  @fanforfanatic  

This writer has yet to disappoint - and this story is damn near pristine from start to finish. It’s an actual, on god, Dean-in-character dive into the woman of his dreams. Sound fluffy or angsty? Nope. You’re wrong. It isn’t either. What it is, is just right. I’m not telling you any more - when you next have time to sit and read and really absorb an introspective Dean piece, make this your first choice.

Say hello to a new (-ish!) writer, @salt-n-burn-em-all !

Doors 📌

You will not believe this is just her 2nd SPN fanfic - captivating and moving, and even if you're swiping a tear away, I think you'll find yourself with a smile at the last three words.

East of Nowhere ⚠️  -  @thecleverdame 

You and Sam are strangers trapped in a desolate mountain town where you live alone, isolated from the outside world, for five years.

Very creative scenario that takes you on an intimate journey and - most importantly - has quite the satisfying reveal.

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How You and I Will Be  -  @katehuntington  

When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and you find yourselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time?

Opening paragraph sets the scene perfectly, you'll find yourself there immediately, and it's a plausible scenario of a hunt gone wrong. (We do love our case fics here at The Nail!)

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If This Is A Dream  🚢 -  @wendibird 

Sam receives a tip about a restless spirit haunting a particular patch of woods in South Carolina - one who has asked for him by name. He must now deal with the thought of putting to rest someone he once cared for, but will things go that simply?

Phenomenal opening line/paragraph that puts you in Sam's headspace from the jump, and boy howdy can we all empathize with him, and it's a plausible scenario, one I personally haven't seen tackled til this.

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Men of Cold Cases  -  @smi727

Sam had uncovered hundreds upon hundreds of cases the Men of Letters had never closed, [and the] idea was to investigate what those stodgy old nerds never got around to. Given the cases were at least 60 years old, the chances that any were still active were slim to none. They should all be milk runs…

Fantastic concept, completely original, and well-written to boot. Bonus? The writer has based the plots on actual cold cases and mysteries, and provides you links to the stories behind the story so you can learn more.

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The Ellison Lane Legacy  -  @sixtysevenandwhiskey 

Sam finds a case. You’re reminded of a past you want to forget.

Cheers for a well-rounded original female character who is tough and vulnerable all at once. Interesting and creative story that's heavy, yes, but thanks to skilled writing the flow keeps it moving vs. getting mired down.

Wrath 📌  -  @waywardjoy

Shakespeare gets a run for his money here with a small fic inspired by some of his words. Beautifully composed, from the title to the usage of the lines, flows like a dream, evokes big emotion, and puts you right there in the action, breathtaking from start to finish.

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The Runaway Vessel 📌  -  @butiaintgonnaloveem 

A creepy re-working of a popular children's story that will stay with you after you read it. Killer first line, clutch ending, and a detailed, stunning piece of artwork to boot from @lostmymuseagain, what a match made in heaven. This one dug deep, and definitely read like a cautionary fairytale about fate and choices that grandparents would tell/read to the children on a dark night around the fire, give ‘em a bit of a chill in spite of it. 

Ring-A-Ling  -  @winchester-writes & @littlegreenplasticsoldier & @mrswhozeewhatsis

To think, it all started with an innocent post about a tiny bell - get ready to laugh.

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Ten Years Gone  -  @cinnamonanddean  

This is a short-and-sweet, most worthy exception to a The Nail rule that no RPF will be on the list, wherein Jensen reflects upon his time on the show.

Carriers  -  @violetwolfraven 

Daddy Loves To Be Murdered   -  @gabesnonnie 

Slay Ride  -  @bendingsignpost 

The Awakening  -  @rmeisel 

The Chosen One  -  @copperbadge 

The Night  -  @later0varies

Bedtime Stories & How Chad Got His Name  -  @lostmymuseagain (also see the artwork related to the Chad story here)

The Author  -  @thebibliosphere

Notes from Nash

The document with my little summaries and personalized feedback for each of these got eaten - basically, I had to re-do the list and time’s been scarce, so forgive me for the lateness.

Also, there was a good handful of stories that disappeared due to what I presume was the purge/people deleting or losing their blogs. I did make effort to check AO3 but I’m afraid some stellar work has been lost for good.

There were a lot of repeat writers and folks I’m friendly with in this edition, more than I typically feature - I strive to highlight mostly lesser known writers and, as noted, mostly fics with <100 notes - but they earned it (and I even chucked a few more from some of these peeps into the folder for the next edition, that’s how hard they’re rockin’ it). That’s why it’s so important y’all let me know about the unsung writers and their undiscovered jewels - submit the story links and your reviews to me (links to your reblogs with your comments is perfectly fine) any ol’ time. 

That’s it! What’re you waiting for??? Get to reading!

[naysaltysalmon]

I’m back!

Upon my return from China, I noticed there were a lot of things weighing me down... that I can just throw the fuck out.

I could expound upon all of these in great detail, but it really would be pointless. And I wouldn’t be able to cover it all anyway. So instead I’ve decided to make a post of every icon I’ve used for my online persona over the years.

The reason for this is... at the end of the program I attended, we had an entire week of silent meditation. We weren’t allowed to talk or communicate with anyone in any way, including gestures, eye contact, or physical touch. So, during this time I had the realization that the stories I’ve been interested in have been my main source of comfort over the years. No person, place, or thing has felt more permanent to me than this.

However, permanence is an illusion, as the Buddhists say (I stayed in a Buddhist monastery in China, in case you’re wondering). My interests have changed over the years -- from the first fandoms I got obsessed with, to my interests now. I may still adore the series that I enjoyed as a child, but definitely not in the same way.

Coming home, I realized... I no longer want to attach my identity to one character or series. That’s why I’ve decided to make this post. I want to reflect on all the egos of my past, on what they have meant to me, so that I can let them go. I’ve been clinging to a folder of them for too long.

To anyone who’s been here since the very start of my blog, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is an acknowledgement of my transformation from then until now.

And so:

Breadward Elric. My first Internet icon, which I had for 2 and a half years from May 2011 -- 2013. My blog was originally entirely FMAB content, created in January of 2012, and while this format didn’t last the entire time that I had this icon, Breadward saw me through the majority of my early anime and video game obsessions. He jump-started my personality on the Internet as a fanfic author, a blogger, and an artist. I will never forget him... ;~;

Comrade Führer Tamama. I had this icon for 8 months in early 2013 -- early 2014. What can I say? Tamama’s passionate personality resonated with me, especially when he was finally able to be in control (in the episode this particular screenshot is from). Gotta get those cola oceans pronto!

Yokoso waga tainai e [Welcome to my Womb ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]. I had a phase during the summer of 2014, okay. But I still love this maniacal snake’s crusty ass, fite me. I admire KagePro immensely for the popularity and development it gave characters in song format. Of course, favorite of those characters was Kuroha, a snake whose only desire was to keep granting wishes so that he could survive. Add a touch of murderous intent and you have the complete package -- I won’t deny he appealed(appeals) to my wild side -- okay moving on.

KeroTama hugge 👀. I had this icon for about 4-6 months in 2014 before the Hunter x Hunter phase hit. God, I shipped them so hard *facepalms* It was funny though, it’s like KagePro hit me like a hurricane during this summer and then I went right back to being KeroTama trash. Amazing.

Softly Smiling Pika. I kept this icon for at least 9-10 months at the end of 2014 -- early 2015, until I found Owari no Seraph. Kurapika was definitely my bae at the start of my HxH phase -- and in many ways he still is. The current arc gives me this sense of nostalgia of being a 15-year-old again, deeply in love but too in denial to see it. Watching him as a young adult, I see how far I’ve come, how I could have ended up... since I believed myself to be most closely alike with Kurapika at the time. And now I know that’s not the case... I remember debating between many other Kurapika icons and finally choosing this one because I dearly wanted to believe I too could find my happiness in the friends around me, even if it seemed all was hopeless behind the scenes.

Yuu babe. I had this icon for 4 months in the middle of 2015, I remember. Yuichiro Hyakuya was an underappreciated dorky genius at the time, much like how Gon is in HxH now, except... Now in the series... *deep sighs* *clenches fist* I still love his piercing citrine eyes and the dynamism of this icon/pose though.

Cuties T^T (MikaYuu edition). Mmm I kept this icon for a while, something like most of 2016, at least 6-8 months, probably more like 9 or 10. Looking back, I still wonder how/why the author was a fucking coward and didn’t make MikaYuu happen. We coulda had it aaallllll...... Anyway, this is when I was writing Ebony & Ivory, my most popular fic to date, so I was reveling in the reputation I gained from that. This icon was me accepting that while I was no longer friends with my best friend from middle school to 11th grade, I would still pursue my own happiness in the perfect relationship that I saw in MikaYuu. *nods* It’s fitting.

Caught Child². I shared this and the next couple of icons with a friend that I met online, who used the Gon equivalent. I think we shared this one for about 3 months of 2016. This is when I became re-obsessed with Hunter x Hunter and realized how much I had changed between 2014 and 2016. It’s an obsession that’s more or less carried onto now, and redefined my adulthood, as I see my progression as I refer back to HxH for guidance to this day.

Content Chompy Boye. I love this icon. I kept this icon for a long time, something like 5-6 months in December 2016 -- mid-2017. The colors of the background contrast with Killua’s white hair, pale skin, and dark muscle shirt... I still used this icon on other websites until just a few days ago (when I most recently changed my icon) because I thought it looked the best backdropped against the format of other websites. I love this scene in the series, though; while (human) Palm is chattering on about her worry that Gon and Killua will be able to defeat Knuckle and Shoot in time, Killua continues to eat without a care in the world. It’s a mood I feel at least once a day, whether while eating or getting a back massage -- as if that ever happens -- 11/10.

Pizza Devil Brat. I like this icon a lot and kept it on a few websites for longer too, but with the way I edited it, the green background becomes a little too headache-inducing if you stare at it too long, so 8/10 -- okay no more out of 10 ratings, this isn’t that kind of post. I believe I kept this icon for about 3-4 months in 2017 and possibly early 2018 as well. From the same scene the previous Kurapika icon came from, this remains one of my favorite scenes in the entire series for its serious undertones over the light happiness that underlies Gon’s, Killua’s, and Kurapika’s (and Leorio’s -- but he’s not in this scene) interactions with each other throughout the series.

Grumpy Gem Gremlin. I was sharing the last three icons with that friend, including this one, with the Phos equivalent (more or less). I think we only kept it for about a month or month and a half in 2017 or beginning of 2018 before switching to the next one. Cinnabar’s desire for a purpose and closeness to others despite her poisonous nature... is definitely something I can understand and relate to.

Sad Gem Child. Damn, I think we’re all still waiting for the day Gormie realizes Aechmea’s a creepy sugar daddy and dropkicks his ass into the ocean where the Admirabilis can decompose his cloudy body like he doesn’t deserve. When will Land of the Lustrous return from the war? I’m still waiting, Ichikawa. Anyway I think we kept this icon for about a month or maybe two in 2018, not long at all.

Gay Childe™. Look, this is one of the gayest scenes in the entire series and it’s right after my favorite episode(s)/scene(s) in the entire series (so far) and it’s not even acknowledged by anyone. Just. Holy Fuck. Anyway I think I kept this icon for about 6-8 months to cap off 2018. And this is where the Big Breakup happened, where my friend decided to choose an icon that deviated from mine, but I kept this icon for a lot longer due to what this scene means to me, placed after/during my favorite episode. ;v;

And finally, BoMH (Blood on My Hands) Pika. I used this icon for 8 months from the start of 2019 until just a few days ago (approx. 8 months). This icon was originally the cover for a Kurapika fic that I started back in 2015 and ended up discontinuing because it was pretty slow-paced, and thus unpopular, which made it become difficult for me to write. But I got all the way up to 97k words before I quit, simply because of the freedom and joy I felt in creating all the OCs that I fit into Kurapika’s journey as he searched for the Kurta eyes after the Yorknew City Arc. Looking back, I’m proud of the planning and commitment that I succeeded in undertaking with this fic -- it was about halfway done by the time I stopped writing it -- and I feel I want to return to this concept one day. Even if the arcs were pretty formulaic at times and, well, boring, I wanted this icon at the start of 2019 to be a new person separate from my recent past matching icons; a representation of my ability to reconnect with my past, but to no longer be afraid of it; to be proud of it, but still recognizing the not-so-good parts, laying it to rest by no longer avoiding it.

My icon now, as I’m sure you can see... is nothing like those I’ve used thus far. I definitely have no intention of moving away from anime or my past. I simply wish to redefine who I am in relation to them, rather than being defined by them.

...I’ve discovered a lot about myself over the past 2 years since college started, more than I ever thought possible. I discovered a lot while in China, too. And I need my online persona to reflect that in every form, as I’ve done every time there was a change.

Thank you all for being with me on this journey: for following me, for reading my posts, for liking my art, for talking with me and blowing up my notifications on every platform...

I’ll be pursuing the next chapter(s) of Human, TIDU, and other works soon. ^.^

[swissmissficrecs]

Hi! I really really love works like Through the Clouds and The Sea in a Chasm and Horse and Carriage where one of the boys proposes marriage or retirement together and the other struggles with what that means about their "friendship". Do you have any other fics you can rec me along that vein? I'd also love fics where Sherlock marries them without telling John!

Reply: I love these too! First of all, here are some relatedlists:

Fakerelationship

Couplestherapy

Gettingtogether late in life

And here are the ones you mentioned in case anyone else would liketo look them up:

Horse andCarriage by flawedamythyst (60K, Teen, Johnlock)Sherlockproposes. John thinks the whole idea is ludicrous.

Through theClouds by mazarin221b (20K, Explicit, Johnlock)Sherlock takesa remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a changeof pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the SouthDowns, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quietcontemplation, bee studies, and book writing.They might go completelyinsane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’reliving to find the life you want.

The Sea in aChasm [orphaned] (17K, Teen, Johnlock and John/OFC)WhenSherlock decides to retire to Sussex, John decides to find out who heis without Sherlock.

Now I know I have read a couple of fics where Sherlock (or Mycroft) secretly procured a marriage license for them for medical or case-related purposes without John’s knowledge, but unfortunately I am not able to find them right now so if anyone else knows one please let us know! I can give you a bunch of others, though, in which thoughts of marriage lead to angst and re-examination of the relationship:

This is a very close second (and one of my all-time favorite fics)in which Sherlock pretends to be married to John without John’sknowledge:

The Good Morrowseries by greywash (213K, Explicit, Johnlock)My post-S2series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything andplausibility isstretched unto breaking. Also: fucking.

In this one, Sherlock thinks John is going to propose but hedoesn’t, leading to relationship re-evaluation:

Stood in History by philalethia (18K, Explicit, Johnlock)He discovered the ring in John’s sock drawer. It all went a bit downhill from there.

In these, one or the other of them thinks about proposing for areally long time:

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (32K, Explicit, Johnlock)And Sherlock stands there, in the middle of a Christmas market as John hums along to Silent Night, John’s hand warm in his with fingertips a little gritty from the cinnamon-sugar doused churros they’d shared, and thinks, oh, that’s–that’s an idea, isn’t it?*For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves.

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (22K, Explicit, Johnlock)Proposing shouldn’t be this difficult.Written for this prompt at the kink meme: Remember that episode of Friends where Chandler is going to propose to Monica and how he pretends that he doesn’t care about marriage so she’ll be really surprised? How about a version of it with Sherlock and John with Sherlock being the one that wants to propose but pretends that he has no desire for it?

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (17K, Explicit, Johnlock)Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn’t simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. (Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.)

In these, both of them angst a whole lot over getting married:

Sketchy Part 2 by serpentynka (158K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC)What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work?   A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. (A continuation of plot arcs from Part 1 of Sketchy) When the world’s only consulting detective starts dreaming of bowing out, his dearest person in the world is more than willing to go with him.  It would seem that all that’s left to do is choose a date and leave London.  The machinations that be are never quite what they seem.

God Help Me, I Do by PlainJane (90K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mollstrade)A consulting detective, two doctors, a forensic pathologist, a DI, a senior citizen, a recovering alcoholic and the British government walk into a register office…John and Sherlock have resolved to be together as much more than just colleagues or friends, but how will their relationship change between the proposal and the wedding? Follow along as they learn about themselves and about each other. How will they share their news with those closest to them? How will John adjust to the reality of being in a relationship with a man instead of a woman? How will they both find time and space for personal and professional lives? And how will Sherlock cope with the intensity of true love? Cases, chuckles, angst and lots of good loving on the journey to one very unconventional wedding day.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (39K, Explicit, Johnlock)Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding...

This has a similar premise to Horse and Carriage:

The Important Bit by Solshine (10K, G, Johnlock)Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

And finally these in which they get engaged/married for a case(with John’s knowledge) and it becomes serious:

Thanks to the Barbarians by queen_jadis (10K, Explicit, Johnlock)John and Sherlock get married for a case, which both of them find hilarious - until they realise that they can’t get a divorce. The offensive piece of paper has more effect on their relationship than John thinks it has any right to do.

A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (91K, Teen, Johnlock)John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level… 

Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier (15K, Mature, Johnlock)When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling, there’s really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike.

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by distantstarlight (96K, Explicit, Johnlock)For his entire life Sherlock Holmes has had complete mastery over his transport. He drives it harder than he should, is careless with it, and makes it bend to his will. His transport has always done it’s duty but lately Sherlock’s transport has been making some demands. 

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (16K, NC-17, Johnlock)John, we need to get married. 

Mountebank by Odamaki (26K, Mature, Johnlock)“I am calm,” John snaps, leaning on the door to glare out at the dark streets around them. Sherlock’s not said where they’re going; all he knows is they came off the ring road to the west of London and have vanished somewhere into the depths of Berkshire. All he knows is that he’s been trussed up in a suit that wasn’t hired from anywhere and if brought new would edge up into the triple figure margins. “Be calmer,” Sherlock advises, with a trace of irony. “We’re going to a party.”

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (9K, Explicit, Johnlock)What it says on the tin: John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game.Of course it’s for a case.Of course it doesn’t stay that way.

The Pretence of an Unacknowledged Truth by stickleworting (28K, Explicit, Johnlock)  He’s decided to just be himself, clich�� as it sounds. The lie about being Sherlock’s mate will be difficult enough to keep up, he’s not going to think up more of a charade regarding himself on top of that.  If he uses the wrong fork at dinner, fine. If someone calls him on it, he’ll just stab them with it. Job done.First attempt at Omegaverse because a very good friend of mine likes it, and I like my friend. She asked for: alpha!John/omega!Sherlock; age difference; pretend bondmates to meet Sherlock’s family; synthesised bond scent; and bonding in Sherlock’s old bedroom. I think I’m managing to cram it all in for you, sweetpea ;) No mpreg, I’m afraid. That was a stretch too far.

[wistfulwanderingone]

Hey, @mikosarthouse​, here’s the correct answers...I re-did them for you.  I have no idea what happened to them. 8,12,22,28,37

8.) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

What constitutes a snippet?  This is probably longer...but I love the whole thing because I feel like it was a perfect way to reintroduce Arnold and Helga to each other.  Not to mention the other characters are so in-character here that I love it!.

         “What are you doing here?”

           She rolls her eyes. “My job.”

           “What job’s that? Destroying my dig site?” I say this teasingly, but I’m seriously annoyed that her clumsiness almost destroyed weeks of work.

           “No, Arnoldo.  I’m here to interview a crackpot archeologist for The National Geographic. Apparently, that's you,” she adds with one of her smirks that I’m all too familiar with. How could I forget how much Helga Pataki lives to tease and rile people up--especially me?

           “Then why do you seem so surprised to find me here?  Wait a second,” I exclaim, “crackpot archeologist?  Who says I’m a crackpot?”

           “Um...everyone,” she quips throwing her arms out for effect. “You claim that San Lorenzo's Green Eyes are descendents of the Ancient Egyptians. That’s like oceans away from here,” she laughs.  “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised to find you here because I wasn't actually given your name.  Just initials and 'team.'”

           “So how'd you find us here?”  

           She gives me a look that screams ‘what, are you an idiot?’ “How many eccentric archeologists do you think there are in San Lorenzo that think the Green Eyes are actually Egyptians? Geez, Copernicus, it’s not like you’re hiding or anything. I’ve been all over Central and South America and there’s definitely no one like you. And as the top National Geographic journalist in these parts, I am telling you I have been all over.”

           I raise an eyebrow at her in surprise. “I thought you were going to be a novelist or something. I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

           She smiles genuinely and it completely transforms her face.  “Are you joking?” she laughs.  “Traveling the world...adventure...going off the beaten paths and investigating for stories? This is so totally up my alley!” she cries, throwing her arms out wide.  And then her expression turns smug.  "What's not my thing are these little boring 'interest' pieces about crazy archeologists with insane theories.”

"We have plenty of evidence, Pataki. And I'll prove it to you."

           "Only time will tell, I suppose," she replies, slight sarcasm in her voice.

           “Arnold, we...we, uh...we need your help,” Sandy calls, approaching us at a run.  Glancing to Helga she adds, “If you can spare a moment.”

           “Your wife summons, Shortman,” Helga quips with a guffaw.

           Sandy puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at Helga.  “I’m not his wife, whoever you are,” she corrects her with a terse tone to her voice.

           “Her name's Helga. What’s up?” I ask Sandy, standing up and dusting off my pants.

           Eyeing Helga suspiciously, she finally turns to me and answers.  “Well...Soren’s stuck up in the tree with a bunch of monkeys.”

           “This is I gotta see,” Helga laughs, standing up and clapping her hands together.

           Approaching the area where Sawyer had found the monkeys and Soren had been goofing off, we look up into the towering branches of the tree.  There's Soren, high up, cornered by a group of monkeys that are either really curious about him or about to tear his face off.

           “You know spider monkeys are some of the most intelligent monkeys of the New World,” Richard states, looking at Antoinette as we approach.  He smiles proudly at himself, waiting for her answer.

           “Fascinating, but not all that helpful,” she replies sarcastically.  

           Richard’s shoulders slump slightly and he kicks a rock dejectedly in front of him.  “Your mama’s not helpful,” he mumbles under his breath.

           “Not the time, Richard,” Antoinette reprimands sternly.

           “Get me down from here!” Soren shouts suddenly as a monkey swings over to him, and then hangs from a branch so he’s face to face with him.  

           “Quite the brilliant team of scientists you’ve got here, Arnold,” Helga retorts, behind a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

           “I was never a huge fan of Tarzan...and now I’m married to him,” Sandy groans from beside her.

           "You could do worse," Helga says, nonchalantly. However, the way she eyes me makes my stomach sink with dread.  It’s like I know she’s up to something, like she’s going to say something that I don’t want to hear.  "You could actually be married to a football-headed oddball of an archeologist."

           …And there it is.

12.) Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Honestly this is kind of hard for me to answer...there are a lot of episodes that inspire me for different things, so I don’t think I can really choose just one.

22.) Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

This was really hard.  I have trouble rewriting stuff...once it’s written I feel like I can’t mentally think about a different way to change it but I will try.  For this I just chose a random paragraph in the beginning of my old fic “Weathered Too Young”...something that I am still really proud of and I hope one day to rewrite and finish.  

Old-Version:

Arnold stared into the mirror at his reflection. He hardly recognized himself these days. He was twenty-six years old, but felt like he was eighty. The last couple of years had really been hard on him and he felt exhausted, hopeless, and helpless. Sometimes he felt like he had wasted the last four or five years of his life. And there would never be any hope of getting them back.

He rubbed bitterly at his eyes, trying in vain to dispel the fatigue and get rid of the large purple bags that hung heavily there. He did this every morning, but never to any avail. The green of his eyes had gradually faded to an empty gray-green that no longer held any light. He put some gel in his hands, rubbed them together and tried resentfully to restore his hair to its once bright, blonde, energetic look. No use. It still looked pale and limp.

New-Version:

Arnold Shortman stared hard into the mirror. A sad, aged face stared back at him.  Was this someone he knew?  Was this really him?  He could hardly recognize that tired, pained face that gazed back at him.  He was barely twenty-six years old, but he felt like he was eighty.  

The past couple of years had been loathsome and draining.  If he thought too much about it...let the aches of pain and regret take over...he’d start to feel like he had wasted the last four or five years of his life.  Wasted them...and there was no way he’d ever get them back.

And sometimes if he continued on this train of thought...he’d get angry and hateful.  But it wouldn’t last long...the gloom and anxiety would settle back in, much stronger than the anger and work as a distraction.  A miserable distraction.

He rubbed bitterly at his eyes, trying in vain to dispel the fatigue and get rid of the large purple bags that hung heavily there.  Every morning as if out of habit, he did this.  But never to any avail.  The green of his has had gradually faded to an empty grayish-green that reminded him of the dying, drought-beaten sagebrush he’d seen one on a trip to Arizona.  Rubbing gel between his palms, he smoothed it into his hair, trying resentfully to restore his once bright, blonde hair to it’s former glory.  But like always, it still looked pale and limp.

Tell me what you think! Is it better?

28.) Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Well, I think it only makes sense to start with @pointyobjects​.  Why?  Because she was the first HA! author whose work I fell in love with.  Everything she writes is always exactly the quality and content I always crave. It always makes me laugh (and i love laughing) because I think she has a witty way of looking at the world and describing it, and I think her writing style is in some ways similar to mine and maybe that’s another reason her work appeals to me so much. Her stuff is golden. I’m never disappointed.  I’m also jealous of her drabbles...there’s just so much perfection in such a small amount of words. 

Second would probably be @polkahotness​.  It’s funny...I had never read her stuff until I saw her post looking for a beta and offered my services...then I started reading “Spanish 2 Was All For You” and I LOOOOOOVED it!  Her fluff is golden.  But I also love her poetry...it’s gorgeous, like so beautiful and inspiring.  Not only are her actually poems like that...but the way she writes and describes things in general is so poetic...and while I SUCK at poetry I can read it and know it and appreciate it’s beauty.  And her’s is amazing.  She also writes really deep, emotionally beautiful fics and they amaze me.

I think for the third one I want to shout out to a few authors.  I suck at reading fics these days, but I’m started a few and if only time would permit I’d keep reading it.   @turchinorain whose pirate AU “The Promise of the Sea” fic calls to me constantly because I can feel it’s going to be awesome.  @ps118daily whose “Leaves” I’ve only read two chapters of...but, dang I want to read MORE.  I feel like there’s going to be some amazing depth there.  @aibou-ftw who has written my most favorite ever one-shot “Yes, No, Maybe”.  Seriously, favorite EVER!

37.) Talk about your current wips.

“The Shadow Around His Heart” -- that’s my baby.  I love it.  i have sooooo many amazing plans for it.  And as hard as it is to write...it’s also the easiest thing I think I’ve written because i’m so passionate about it.  New Chapter coming in a week or less!  I promise!

“No Competition” -- It’s back! This is my HS fic...with lots of tension and while its funny, I feel like it has a really unique plot with lots of surprises coming and a bit of drama.  So hopefully more updates more frequently!

“Secret Upcoming One-Shot”-- I hopefully will finish this soon...but it will be the kids as 9 year-olds in a style fitting an episode.  I’ve had this idea for a year so I wanna finish it soon!

“As Yet Untitled Drama” -- while watching a show I had this idea...I’m so excited for it...it’s gonna take lots of PRE PLANNING so it’s in that stage now.  Just think drama and ALL the characters as adults...it’s gonna be probably the most drama I’ve ever written.  Stick around!

“Pride and Prejudice AU” - Still planning on doing this but it’s taken a back burner to my two current projects.  Never fear...it will come one day.