#galwithalibrarycard asked

[galwithalibrarycard]

32 and you can probably guess which ship i'm gonna ask for... e/R. I'm completely predictable

@echojar Echo! Hi!!! You sent this prompt in 2017, and I am so, so sorry for losing the prompt list this prompt was from and taking seven years to find it again and write it for you. I hope you enjoy this fic and that you're doing well these days, my friend! Thank you for always sending me ExR prompts, because without you giving me that push, I might never have been brave enough to share anything I've written for this wonderful pairing. <333

I've decided this fic starts after E and R have undergone the effort to actually be friends and realize how well they fit together. I just let myself skip right to the fluff and resolution! Still with a little Self-Deprecating Grantaire thrown in, but he's working on it!

***

A Softer World prompt #32. "I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you.  I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer.  But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.)"

flirting flashcards

Enjolras cleared his throat, loudly. "Uh, Grantaire."

"Yes?" R raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Wait, are those notecards?"

Enjolras stared at the cards in his hand, determinedly not looking at R. The ink almost immediately ceased to mean anything under his scrutiny, but it was okay. Like most of his speeches, he had this one memorized.

"I... I heard what Bahorel and those guys were saying about you, and it upset me. I don't know much about flirting, or pickup lines. But I know you are not ugly. I think you are beautiful, and I would like to kiss you. I can think up some clever lines, if you'd prefer. I wrote some down here. But I wanted to say that, first. That you're beautiful."

Grantaire's mouth had dropped open. He was frozen in shock.

"This was a stupid idea," Enjolras hissed, blushing furiously. "Never mind."

He started to turn away, half certain, now, that Courfeyrac's urging to do this was a prank.

And then Grantaire started to laugh.

"Enjolras, wait!" He called through giggles, reaching to grab Enjolras' arm.

            Enjolras stopped, flashcards still hanging uselessly from one hand. Grantaire spun him around until they were standing face to face, almost unbearably close. His eyes were the clearest, most dazzling shade of green that Enjolras had ever seen. How had he never noticed that before?

"First of all," Grantaire said. "I'm not beautiful." He held up a hand when Enjolras started to disagree.

"I'm not. I'm okay with that, really. I have other skills. And I hope you already know this, but if anyone who's not Bahorel called me ugly to my face, Bahorel would punch their lights out in a second. He's a good sort. He's one of my best friends.”

“I guess I did jump to conclusions there. Bahorel is a good man. Sorry about that, friend.”

Enjolras addressed this last to the man himself, who was sitting a few seats down the bar, chatting with Lesgles. Bahorel nodded to Enjolras and raised his glass good-naturedly.

“No worries. Hey, R, just let me know if you ever need me to punch our fearless leader for you!” He called with a laugh.

“You could still be nicer to him, you know,” Enjolras pointed out to Bahorel.

Grantaire ignored this exchange. “Actually, can we not do this in front of the peanut gallery?”

            He grabbed Enjolras’ hand, leading him to the back room of the Musain and closing the door. Grantaire’s hand was rough, scarred and calloused from too many punches thrown and too many paintbrushes brandished. Enjolras relished the knowledge, tucking it away with all the other bits and pieces he’d learned about R, ever since they’d somehow actually become friends.

Enjolras quickly found himself pressed against the door of the dim little room, staring nervously at Grantaire in front of him. It occurred to him that he’d forgotten to account for what to do if his flirting worked. He’d never gotten this far with anyone before- had never wanted to, really.

            “Now,” said Grantaire, voice gravelly. “Are you fucking with me, or did you seriously just say you wanted to kiss me?”

“I… is that so hard for you to believe?”

Grantaire snorted.

“What?” Enjolras said defensively. “I think about kissing. Sometimes.”

“I’m more surprised about the part where it’s me you want to kiss,” Grantaire admits, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Up until a few weeks ago, I sort of thought you hated me.”

“I did. A little,” Enjolras admits, then backtracks at speed when Grantaire’s face falls dramatically. He looks devastated, and Enjolras hates himself for it, now.

“I knew it. I’m the thorn in your side, poking holes in all your ideas. I’m an ugly asshole and a drunk. You’d never touch me.” Grantaire says it all in a rush, retreating into himself, all his bravado gone.

“You shut up,” Enjolras orders seriously. “Don’t talk about my- my friend like that.”

“W-What?” Grantaire blinks.

Enjolras starts towards him, slow, calm.

“You challenge me,” he says. “You make my speeches, my ideas, so much better, because you don’t let me off the hook for anything.”

“I’m just giving you shit-“

“No, your ideas are good. They are!” He insists when Grantaire goes to protest. “You’re clever and you’re thoughtful and genuinely well-read, and it’s my fault for not noticing that just because you communicate primarily through sarcasm.”

            Enjolras has crossed the room now, reaching out a hand, going slow so Grantaire has time to react, to push him away. He doesn’t, so Enjolras leans in, cupping his rough, stubbly cheek in one palm.

“Your face,” he says, “is so unique. So real and expressive. I like to look at you. So much that I don’t usually let myself do it. That would be giving myself away.”

Grantaire snorts. “Wish I had that self-control.”

“I like that you look at me,” Enjolras pushes back. “I wish you’d see my imperfections, though. It’s exhausting sometimes, trying to get people to see my ideas instead of my face. I’ll never understand why anyone at our rallies cares how I look.”

Grantaire mumbles something about pretty privilege. Enjolras lets that one slide- R’s probably right, after all.

“The point is, I like you, Grantaire. Your mind, your art, and yes, your scars. Would you let me show you? Please?”

Enjolras is not one to beg. He lets the statement sit, watching the emotions flit across the other man’s face, admiring each change and contour even as he internally panics about their meanings.

“I… really?” Grantaire manages, staring at the ceiling, taking off his beanie with one hand. “What the hell is my life?”

“Is that a yes?” Enjolras asks patiently, and Grantaire laughs.

“Fuck. Like I’d ever say no. Come here.”

              He steps into Grantaire’s arms, then, and it takes some getting used to. He doesn't hold people like this often, but he finds he likes that he can rest his chin against the nest of dark curls on R’s head, and even more the feeling of R’s muscular boxer’s arms around him.

“I like our height difference, how I can tuck you close to me. I like how firmly you hold me, how strong you are,” Enjolras told him softly, caressing his surprisingly toned biceps.

He could feel Grantaire bristle in disbelief, so he pulled away, taking one calloused hand in his and pressing his lips to R’s knuckles.

“When I said I want to kiss you, this is what I meant,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire blushed redder than Enjolras had ever seen him.

“I like your hands, how much they’ve done and held, how you use them to make us posters and signs. How you’d use them to defend any of us, even if it wouldn’t make any difference.”

"It usually doesn't."

Still bent over his hand, Enjolras looked reproachfully up at R through golden lashes and was gratified to see those green eyes darken with lust.

“I like your scars, and your stubble,” Enjolras continued, rising to his full height again, pulling Grantaire closer. He kissed as many of the acne scars as he could find, peppering kisses across rough skin that felt like heaven under his lips.

“I like each wrinkle,” he kissed the lines in R’s forehead. “And the shape of your thrice-broken nose.” He kissed the tip of it, feeling puckish.

“I like your smile lines,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the corner of Grantaire’s mouth where those were.

“I like your mouth- although I’d like it if you found other uses for it than arguing with me, once in a while.”

“Enjolras-“ Grantaire sputtered, astonished.

It made Enjolras grin. He loved catching R off guard, surprising him the way R had been surprising Enjolras as long as he’d known him.

“I want to help you see yourself like I do. I like your eyes and your hair and your-“ he continued, burying a hand in those perfect curls at last, and Grantaire whined.

“Will you shut up and come here already?” He growled, pulling Enjolras in and finally kissing his lips.

Victory, thought Enjolras, tasted like cigarettes and licorice, heady and consuming and Grantaire all the way through.

             Enjolras didn’t often do this kind of thing, didn’t often want to. Somehow, Grantaire had pierced his armor and ensnared his desire, and he gave in, gladly. He explored Grantaire’s mouth with his tongue and sucked experimentally on his lip, his breath catching in his throat as the other man palmed his ass.

He felt heat rushing through his body, straight to his cock, and then all at once a welcome hardness pressed against his hip, Grantaire pressed against him.

“Oh. I like that very much as well,” Enjolras panted between kisses. “Very much indeed.”

Grantaire groaned and held him closer. “You’re gonna kill me,” he panted. “You are actually gonna…”

And then he was kissing him again, and there were no more words.

           Later, they’d come up for air. They'd both be uncomfortable until they got home, but they knew better than to go much further here in the Musain; they’d catch hell from their friends for this anyway.

When they did reluctantly break apart, it was to notice the floor, covered with the notecards Enjolras had let fall in his haste to prove himself to Grantaire.

“So, I guess those worked,” Grantaire said sheepishly, nodding at the pile of cards. “Remind me to write you a list of all the things I love about you, in return. You’re making me look bad, angel.”

“Me? Never.” Enjolras bent down and started gathering the cards. “I didn’t use most of these, anyway. None of them seemed to be about you or me.”

Grantaire picked up a card and immediately started to laugh. “Are you from Tennessee, cause you’re the only ten I see?” he read. “Seriously?”

“Courfeyrac wrote that one!” Enjolras insisted, mortified.

“Oh, sure,” R teased. “What’s this one? Roses are red, violets are blue-“

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” Enjolras sighs from the ground.

“Never, my dear.”

Grantaire dove for more notecards, reading them out so over-the-top poetically it made Enjolras laugh to the point of tears.

It was a good thing that beautiful, imperfect man was worth it.

[monstrous-femme]

My favorite fic of yours is In Her Hips because I love your Nancy and your Robin and I loved editing it. But I also still have a soft spot for Ever-Fixed Mark. How can I not love winterking accidental Vegas marriage?! One of the fics that got me into femslash! 💖

I'm so glad you answered this bc it's mostly stranger things girlies who follow me rn and my Lolilo fic is such an important part of my identity as a writer! EFM was, at the time, the longest fic i'd ever written and was/is so meaningful to me

[brekker-by-brekkerr]

I just finished the S&B trilogy and didn't interact with the fandom until now, so imagine my surprise when I log onto Tumblr and find out how many people hate Mal and Malina😭I love them with all my heart but I'm struggling finding content + blogs for them

Hi!! Welcome to the Malina fandom!! It's the worst when you really love something and then you jump online and find all these people hating on it so I sympathize with you. But I'm so glad you're here and that you love them!! Honestly I feel like it's been forever since I've posted about them and I miss them so I appreciate this ask <3

The Malina fandom was way more active in the days leading up to the S&B show and during the first season (I miss those days in general; the Grishaverse fandom was so active and it was the best) and sadly a lot of the pro-Mal and Malina accounts I loved are inactive.

But! There are still so many Malina shippers out there!! Here are a few of the accounts I could think of:

@lovedust4starlust @oretsev @malinaa @malyen0retsev @galwithalibrarycard @appleblossomsinabluecup @otaku-shipper @meyhew @daydreaming-optimist @corporaloretsev @cardigantaylor13 @trntcrimm

a few I haven't seen active in a while but you can still check out:

@malinalovebot @malinatrash @malinasource @maloretsov @just-otkazatsya @darklinganti @malxalinadaily @malinaagenda @oretsov @malinahub

(any malinas who find this please chime in!! i'd love to find more active malina shippers!!!)

[miz-chase]

@galwithalibrarycard its important you know that I still have you Hannah/Booth/Brennan ask in my inbox and things are Happening

I'm about to sit on a 15 hour flight to Australia and have Plans and Schemes

[drelizabethgreene]

WIP game! Tagged by @galwithalibrarycard

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

So I only have one WIP at the moment:

Title: The Things I Have Going for Myself

Fandom: ER

Pairing: Janet and Caitlyn (gen pair - mother and daughter)

This is a oneshot that takes place following Take a Heart and Take a Hand, maybe a week or so after. It’s a prompt fill for @anyfandomfluffbingo (comfort food) and a leftover prompt from @flufftober (self-love/self-worth). Janet is around to continue taking care of Caitlyn as she tries to heal from her most recent depressive episode, including cooking for her and encouraging her to love herself again.

And so the unusual side character attachment continues.

Next up: @oceangirl24

[sonseulsoleil]

WIP Tag Game!

Tagged by @galwithalibrarycard

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Alright, I don't have a lot of new active WIPs at the moment, but I've done this before and I don't want to post repeats, so I'll post the handful I have. In no particular order:

crowley gets a cat (Good Omens fic series, I've already posted the first one on AO3)

a very long list of reasons NOT to date her (Broadchurch fic! I watched this show all the way through for the first time recently!)

crystal clear as we disappear (....H2O: Just Add Water fic...in the year of our lord 2024...I know I know but just let me LIVE)

Bones amnesia fic (obviously, a Bones fic lol)

(after all this time) I'm still into you (Heartstopper fic! This one is up on AO3 as well, but I'm only about halfway through)

I'm tagging: @hmslusitania @twosoulsinonehome @astrhae @firstelevens and anyone else who follows me and wants to do it! Feel free to tag me!

[skinnyscottishbloke]

🎶✨when you get this you have to put 5 songs u actually listen to. then send this ask or tag 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)✨🎶

tagged by the faaaabbbbbbulous @queeranomaly thanks frand

So Apple Music makes a new "Favorites" playlist for me every week based on what it thinks I like/what I've been listening to a lot, so the 5 songs are gonna come from there =)

Skewing older this week but I do love all of these songs so it's accurate ahaha.

Tagging (no pressure) @bisexualwvtson @exlibrisfangirl @mamajosrefuge @malgudinights @lordoftherazzles @galwithalibrarycard @nickmybeloved @panlyra @hellahappytea and anyone else who wants to do this! =)

[bookwormythings]

2, 6, 9, 25 for salty asks! Whatever fandom you need to rant on (i have an idea what it is, go for it and enjoy!) :)

I have only been truly salty in two fandoms in my life: Game of Thrones and The 100. I am mostly over both of them now, but I will say this, while I will be 100% over GoT eventually and may even rewatch next year, I will never be able to watch The 100 again. That said, I'll answer this for both of those dumbass shows.

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?*

For The 100, Murven is the first one that comes to mind. I just don't like them or get it. To be honest, I am not at all convinced that LM and RH had the chemistry to pull it off, but even if they did, having someone who is disabled be with the person who disabled her just feels wrong on so many levels for me. I don't like it and the development wasn't on the show for me to even contemplate.

Game of Thrones on the other hand, had a few that come to mind but one I absolutely don't understand what people saw in Theon and Sansa. I thought Sophie and Alfie had wonderful chemistry but I didn't see it as romantic at all, but they for sure saw each other as comrades and kindred spirits. I do not get it.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

Clurphy all the way! My special Slytherin pals! Clarke and Murphy should have had a solid relationship on the show but they didn't and if you had asked me about them just based on what I saw on screen, I would have been so confused by the thought. Fandom, especially fics, have just opened my eyes to them and now I can't close them at all. I love their sass together and their weirdass dark humor. Love them now and I won't be stopped.

Jonsa is the one that comes to mind for Game of Thrones. I was grossed out by the sibling thing on the show and how Jon so clearly saw her as his little sister even if I do think Kit and Sophie could have pulled it off if the writers wanted to go there but it was once again fic that made me love them.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Both have so many and for so many reasons, I don't even know where to begin.

The 100, I don't like Lexa and Echo. They both were thinly veiled strong female characters clearly written by men and were so underdeveloped their motivations rarely made sense. They had almost no characterization that was consistent and anything to love about them has been created by fandom and projected onto the screen. Neither were the feminist icons fans like to pretend they were and both were bland at best.

Game of Thrones, Ramsey need I say more. I also have no love for Stannis and Bran. Both of them were just sanctimonious assholes who thought the sacrifices others made on their behalf was worth the greater good because they died for them and they were special. Both of them were just god awful rich white men. Bran being disabled went no where in the story at all for such a big part in the first season and Stannis killed his brother for power and there was no redemption for me after that. Anyone who does anything for power is just a dick. Also, the moment Bran said, "Why do you think I came all this way." I knew I was never going to be able to rewatched without hating and resenting him.

25. How would you end XXX/Would you change the ending of XXX?

All of season 7 of The 100 sucked and it would be too complicated for a single post. Mostly, I would not concentrate on a stupid green space fog and a cult that came out of no where and focus on the closure for our characters. I don't how any decent writer would spend their last chance to be with their story and focus on a different story and characters for a potential prequel. You get one chance to say goodbye and this is what they choose and it makes no sense and they have no integrity or creativity.

Game of Thrones is easier in the sense that my biggest gripe was the pacing. Season 8 started too slow and then went way too fast. They didn't let the needed development for their ending to make sense exist on the show. They needed a few more episodes or a whole other season to really let that story breathe. That and I would not make Bran the Broken (an offensive thing) king and I would give Jaime the respect of his development deserved. Other parts of the finale I almost understood.

[burninghoneyatdusk]

🎶 (your nina and inej brotp jam?) 📚😍 :)

happy friday, thanks for asking! 💛

🎶: send a character or ship and I’ll give you a song

really sticking with the Sia theme tonight, but I think Bird Set Free is the perfect anthem for these incredible ladies.

📚: shadow & bone, six of crows, or king of scars?

definitely six of crows, but I haven’t read king of scars yet! (hoping to do so soon).

😍: who’s your favorite character & why?

Inej is my girl. I could ramble all day about her. I think I just adore her strength and how even after going through so much, she doesn’t shut down her emotions or compassion and manages to stay true to who she is the best she can. She knows you don’t need emotional armor to be strong, and I think I love kanej because she reminds Kaz of that, while also still putting herself first and knowing it’s not her job to fix him.

grisha wine club asks!

[folk-melody]

requesting romione marriage law fics, if you please :) thanks!

Hello anon! There are only a handful of Marriage Law fics for Romione but here's what I could find!

Something Old, Something New by @galwithalibrarycard

Laws Change Lives by YoAngel4E

With Me by @trademarkblue

The Pureblood Knight by @mertronus

Same As It Ever Was by Robot From The Future

Don't forget to leave kudos & comments if you enjoyed! Also, follow @romione-trope-fest. Hopefully you will get more marriage law fics courtesy of the fest!

Feel free to send me asks!

[galwithalibrarycard]

Hey, could you do #2 or #33 from the prompt list for beadick?

Hi, Anon! You sent this on December 10, 2017, and then I lost the prompts list I was working from at the time and never wrote you a fic. I finally thought to just check my tumblr history from Dec. 2017, and I found the prompts post! I apologize deeply for taking seven years to get back to you, and offer this fluff in recompense. Enjoy!

Prompt: 33. I cannot help but notice we are sitting-in-a-tree. So, you know, maybe we could think of something to do… verb-wise. (I want us to gerund, essentially.)

Sitting in a Tree

         Benedick had gone through a lot when he moved to Auckland. He’d been a lonely kid, for a long time. But one of the silver linings was the beautiful, perfect climbing tree in the yard outside his house. He liked to sit up there to watch and listen to the birds, to read books, to watch the world go by. It was peaceful. It was fun.

He climbed up there much less often, now that he was a great big Year Thirteen with a reputation to uphold. But some things were worth looking a little silly. And it was hard to be sad when climbing a tree.

So now, when his house had become Beatrice's refuge after Hero's birthday disaster, and Ben couldn't stand the sadness on Beatrice's face a moment longer, he knew what he had to do.

         "Come with me," he said, grabbing her hand, trying to pull her up off his bed, where she'd been moping for the last hour.

She looked at him, her face the picture of skepticism. "Where are we going?"

"Just trust me," he said, ignoring the electricity of her skin against his as he entwined their fingers. "Leave your phone on the desk and follow me. It'll be fun, I promise."

He led her out to the yard, having her keep one hand over her eyes to maintain the surprise.

That was a good thing, because if he got close enough to cover her eyes himself, he might actually die from touching her. It was like a drug, the rush of happiness and heat just being near her now gave him. He felt horribly guilty for feeling happy about anything, but it couldn't be helped.

Beatrice turned her head in surprise when she heard the front door close behind them, but she didn't move her hand or open her eyes. She was still holding Ben's hand, letting him help her down the front porch stairs. By the time they were standing at the base of the tree, Ben was gratified to see she was smiling.

          "Keep them closed," he said, then reluctantly dropped her hand, sacrificing her touch so that he could jump and grab the lowest branch. He climbed up to his favorite spot, where the branch was thick and wide enough for two. "Okay, open them!"

"Where- oh my god!" Beatrice gasped, bursting into shocked laughter at the sight of him up the tree. "What are you doing up there?"

"Come and join me, love," he grinned, holding out his hand and gesturing for her to climb.

“In a tree?”

“Why not? Better than sitting around inside, right? It’s a perfect tree-climbing day!” He spread his arms, indicating the world around them.

"You're ridiculous," Beatrice said, but she started to climb.

"Yesss!" Ben said triumphantly, indulging in a fist-pump. "Keep coming."

"Oh my god," she huffed again as she pulled herself up the lower branches. "I haven't done this in years! When did it get so hard?”

"You've got this, you're almost there," he encouraged, offering a hand.

         Bea allowed him to stabilize her, giving her the boost she needed to make it up to his branch. She fell into place next to him, leaning in against his body as she settled herself. Ben was holding a smaller branch in one hand for balance, but his other hand ended up wrapped around her, resting on her waist, and she didn't pull away.

"Hi," she said, breathing heavily. She was smiling again, bright and beautiful, and he couldn't look away.

His voice shook slightly as he answered, "Hi."

Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead against hers, and they sat there for a long moment, catching their breath.

           He felt her turning her face away, eventually, and opened his eyes to see her taking in the breathtaking view of Auckland from the tree.

"It's beautiful," she gasped, taking in the trees, the earth, the distant horizon.

Ben was maybe, sort of, kind of in love with her. But that didn't mean he had to be a vomit-inducing cliche. So he did not allow himself to do that cheesy-ass thing where he answered "yeah, it is," while really referring to Beatrice. She was beautiful, but that was beside the point.

           "I told you that you should trust me," Ben said instead.

"Yeah, yeah. But tree-climbing? You're adorable."

“I do my best.”

Beatrice sighed, tucking her head against his shoulder. “Hero and I used to climb trees together. And go to the beach, and ride bikes. Everything was simpler then.”

“She’ll be okay, you know,” Ben said softly. “She’s strong. She has to be, she’s a Duke. She’ll get through it.”

“She shouldn’t have to, though.”

“No, she really shouldn’t. Offer’s still open to punch Claudio in the face, by the way. I’ve never hit anyone before, but it can’t be too hard.”

“If anyone is punching Claudio, it’s me,” Beatrice said. “I know he’s not worth the trouble either of us would get in, but god, I want to, anyway.”

          “You should bring Hero over here, if she misses tree climbing,” Ben changed the subject. He didn’t want Bea to dwell too much on what she couldn’t change. “We don’t even have to be there with her. This tree’s a good place to think. To be alone.”

“Is that why we never climbed it together… before?“

It was the first time either of them had brought up their old friendship, from before they hated each other. It was fragile, delicate. One wrong move, Ben knew, and they could be back in that same fight.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Losing your friendship is the worst mistake I ever made, and I still don’t know what I did.”

“You told me you didn’t believe in long-term friendship. You didn’t want me.” Bea’s voice was small, not angry but hurt. It killed him. He did that to her.

“You were leaving,” Ben said. “For Wellington. And I thought ‘keep in touch’ was just empty words. No one else ever kept in touch, when I moved. I thought it’d hurt less. To end it early.”

“I would’ve kept in touch. I would,” she insisted, and it sounded like a confession.

“I know that now.”

They took a moment to process, watching the clouds go by.

          "So... you know that thing we're not talking about?" Beatrice asked, focused entirely on the loose bit of bark she'd been picking from the branch next to her. "That thing that happened the other day, after we filmed that video?"

"That thing where you kissed me?" Ben said. "Believe me, I have not stopped thinking about it since."

"Me too. I mean, me neither."

Silence fell. The branches creaked around them, a light breeze tickling the leaves and their faces alike. Beatrice succeeded in ripping off the piece of bark, letting it fall to the grass below.

          The endless waiting was unbearable, anxiety thrumming under his skin. Ben was sure she was going to say it was a mistake, that they should never do it again, and he was going to have to act like everything was fine. He was going to have to find a way to climb out of this tree without dropping any of the pieces of his shattered heart. He couldn't take the waiting anymore.

          "So..." He started, heart in his throat.

"So." Beatrice looked up, meeting his eyes at last. She offered a small, hopeful smile. "I can't help but notice we are sitting-in-a-tree. So, you know, maybe we could think of something to do… verb-wise."

"Ah," Ben said. "Essentially, you want us to gerund. Again."

"Yes, you dork. I've been waiting for you to make a move!"

"You should've said so! I didn't want to push-"

She leaned in, grinning, lips just millimeters away from his. “Ben. This is me, saying so.”

And then she put a hand to his cheek to pull him in, and they were sitting in a tree, experiencing a perfect gerund.

        Her lips were so soft, so warm against his. The world was her mouth, her skin, her scent. All he knew was Beatrice, and she was everything.

And then the swoop of fear in their stomachs and the horrible, wide-open sensation of falling. Bea broke away from the kiss and screamed.

They’d instinctively started to tilt, leaning into each other and back, as though they were against a wall and not on a tree branch with no support. Beatrice’s arms pinwheeled in the air as she tried to catch her balance. The horrible future seemed to play out in front of Ben’s eyes- Beatrice falling, falling away from him.

He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

       Fortunately his arm was still around her waist, and somehow, he scrabbled for the branch he’d been holding and grabbed it. By some miracle, his skinny noodle arms were strong enough, and he kept them both upright.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he promised as she trembled against him.

“Fuck!” She shouted, clinging to Ben as their heart rates started to normalize again. As much as possible given their close proximity, anyway.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have-“ Ben started, mortified that his stupid tree-climbing idea almost went so wrong.

“No, we absolutely should,” Beatrice said firmly. “Just maybe on the ground next time.”

“Sitting in a tree not all it’s cracked up to be?” Ben teased.

Bea snorted, and that was all it took before they both started to laugh hysterically. Adrenaline will do that.

        “All right, dickface. Race you to the bottom?” she challenged when she’d caught her breath.

“You’re on.”

        Ben didn’t think he’d ever climbed down from this tree so fast in his life. Beatrice still won, though. He didn’t mind that so much, since he was her prize.

Sitting in a tree was fine, and all. But pressed up against a tree, being kissed by the love of your life until you forget your own name? Way, way better.

[galwithalibrarycard]

Um you know I'm asking about the In Her Hips Robin's POV fic

Of course! :D

Right now I'm pretty much still at the stage where I'm rereading In Her Hips and pausing every few chapters to write some Robin POV of the Ronance conversations we see. I'm thinking of using another lyric from the same song as the title, maybe "in her voice, i hear the revolution" because this fic is focused on Robin contemplating her conversations with Nancy, from the voice on the phone to this changed and changing Nancy she gets to know in person.

(I probably need to reevaluate some of this snippet below, bc there must have been some gay community in Indy at the time, but I write Robin here as still feeling isolated from it. I just remember Robin sounded really interested in coming to Nancy's restaurant, and I ran with that and the reasons why.)

Snippet:

It’s the way Nancy says it. So casual, flippant, like it doesn’t matter that her new job is full of lesbians. Like the existence of even one other gay girl in her vicinity wouldn’t flip Robin’s world upside down.

It’s a word she can’t even say herself, yet. But the idea of being able to find a place so close by, where everyone understands her- the idea of that makes Robin ache.

So they’re going. Robin and Steve are going to see Nancy- and Eddie, she forces herself to add. She’s so nervous in the intervening weeks (“other gay girls, Steve!!!! That I could talk to!!! In real life!!!”) that Steve has taken to throwing the nearest soft object at her instead of trying to soothe. The only thing that helps is when she joins him for smoking practice- he has to be at least experienced enough with pot that he doesn’t cough on the first drag, so Eddie can’t laugh at him. It’s very important, he insists, eyes already red. Robin finds that the pot actually does relax her- up to a point, and then she gets even more jumpy and paranoid than Sober Robin. Great.

[galwithalibrarycard]

prompt: only one bed for a musical of your choice!

- @folk-melody

Ooh thank you @folk-melody ! I'm currently still obsessed with the musical The Mad Ones, so even though there's very little audience for it, I wrote another Sam/Kelly fic for this prompt. Also on AO3. It's about Sam questioning her sexuality while on a class trip with Kelly.

before the light went out

Whenever Kelly slept over at Sam’s house, she used a futon on the floor of Sam’s room. The single twin bed Sam’s mom had bought her years ago wasn’t big enough for more than one person, and anyway, Kelly always said she liked sleeping on the floor. It was an adventure.

And it was a prime location from which to tickle Sam’s foot and make her think a monster was grabbing her leg. Kelly would work her up with a horror movie marathon, then lull her into a false sense of security until the time was right to pounce. Sam would scream like a little girl. Kelly would laugh and laugh until Sam couldn’t help herself. She had to laugh too.

It went on that way until their class trip to Washington DC in ninth grade. They stayed in a hotel, the first time Sam had ever done so in her life. The students were supposed to share rooms in groups of two each, girls with girls and boys with boys, of course. Everyone else got a twin bed each, plenty of room.

Sam and Kelly walked into their shared hotel room to find a single queen size bed. Sam’s breath caught in her chest.

Kelly just grinned and tossed her bag on the ground near her side of the bed.

          Sam had no reason to worry about sharing a bed with Kelly. Except for the fact that, when whispering to her on the bus earlier that day, she’d been visited by the strangest urge. Kelly had been talking about something, probably complaining about homework. Sam was never sure, because somewhere in there her eyes got stuck on Kelly’s lips, full and pink with gloss, and her brain malfunctioned.

What if you kissed her? asked the voice in Sam’s head. And she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it ever since.

It didn’t make sense. Why did Sam’s entire body feel hot at the idea of how soft Kelly’s lips looked? Why hadn’t she been able to look her in the eye? Why was she suddenly all nervous to share a bed with a girl she’d been hugging and holding hands and sharing sleepovers with for as long as she could remember?

         The thing was, Sam wasn’t gay. She couldn’t be gay, because she knew she had a crush on Adam. She sat with him in chemistry class, and she’d spent months feeling her cheeks heat and her stomach flutter every time they accidentally touched hands or she got caught staring at him too much. And it felt good. Really, really good.

So how was it possible, when she knew she liked boys, for Kelly Manning to suddenly be the one person she couldn’t stop thinking about kissing?

And how was she ever going to get through this night without Kelly noticing something was up?

         At least there was a TV and a mini fridge (no alcohol, though, which Kelly complained loudly about until Sam had to shush her in case a teacher might be passing by outside.)

The girls channel-surfed until they found a channel playing Bring It On. A classic, Kelly said. Sam quickly took the armchair, where she wouldn’t have to worry about her hands or legs brushing against the other girl. Any contact felt like too much, right now. Who knew what desires might come bursting through her mind, her body, if she let herself get close? There’d be no going back, then.

She hoped Kelly didn’t notice her glancing over at her every few moments. Sam was sure she was blushing.

        Maybe it was anxiety, she considered, after several more moments of unintended fantasizing about going over to Kelly and leaning in close. Just her brain and her hormonal body playing tricks on her. That had to be it, she told herself, forcing herself to laugh along with Kelly’s endless stream of gossip and sardonic jokes.

Everything was going fine. It had to be a fluke, this strange attraction. It would pass.

And yet…

        The time came to go to sleep, and Sam couldn’t avoid the bed much longer. She brushed her teeth fast, heart hammering, and raced back to the bed. If she got in first, she wouldn’t be taking up any of Kelly’s space. Kelly could decide how close to lie next to her, and Sam couldn’t be to blame for touching her. Sam faced the wall so she wouldn’t see Kelly’s face, wouldn’t start thinking about her mouth again.

Still, she couldn’t stay closed off for long.

“Hey, you okay?” Kelly said, from behind her. “You seem tense.”

“I- uh- oh.” Sam mumbled. “Just… homesick, I guess.”

“Aw, that’s okay, dork. You got me.”

Kelly slipped into bed, tickling Sam’s sides until she shrieked and turned around, tickling Kelly right back. Her mind cleared, and it was just her and Kelly again, easy as anything.

“That’s more like it, Brown,” Kelly laughed triumphantly as they collapsed in a heap, all tickled-out.

         Sam grinned, eyes closed, as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel Kelly’s warmth beside her and smell the light, fruity scent of her hair on the pillow. Kelly turned on her side to face Sam, taking her hand. Her heart clenched at the mischievous grin Kelly flashed her, before the light went out.

Suddenly, she was aware that her skin felt on fire where Kelly was touching her. It was a good kind of discomfort, the heady rush of newfound closeness in the dark. Going by feel, she pressed her forehead to Kelly’s and the thought of kissing her flitted through Sam’s brainagain, and she tried her best not to tense up, not to let Kelly know.

         Later on, years later on, Sam would wrack her brain, but she would never quite be able to remember what they talked about that night. What she did remember was falling asleep with Kelly’s hand in hers. She remembered waking up the next day, wrapped in Kelly’s arms, one of her best friend’s legs draped over both her own, and it felt so good.

She remembered lying perfectly still, trying not to wake Kelly, because she never wanted this perfect, comforting closeness to end. Kelly’s eyes, blinking open, bleary with sleep. And the impulsive, tender little kiss that she pressed to Sam’s forehead, just above her hairline. Sam felt it all the way down to her toes.

It was almost like Kelly knew. Like maybe, somehow, she’d been thinking about kissing Sam that night too.

           Sam had wanted so badly to kiss her back. But that would be weird. Her 15-year-old self had been convinced that, if Kelly had known how Sam was really thinking about her, she’d never have kissed her at all. She’d never have shared her room, much less her bed. It would be wrong to kiss Kelly back without telling her the truth, and what would be the point of that, if Sam wasn’t even really gay?

As she got older, as the memory of Kelly slipped further away from her, Sam would find herself looking back on that time in the hotel room a lot. Kelly’s lips were so soft, even just against her forehead. She was on autopilot the rest of that day, caught between anxiety and bliss, replaying the moment in her mind.

On the bus ride home, Kelly fell asleep again, with her head resting gently on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam never ever wanted the bus to stop.

          For the rest of their friendship, whenever Kelly slept over, Sam joined her on the futon. At least she could enjoy that easy closeness, Kelly pressed softly against her in sleep. It didn’t have to mean anything, she had always told herself.

Kelly was her person, but she was scared, and confused. She ignored her feelings for Kelly, embraced her feelings for Adam instead. The thoughts of kissing Kelly became less frequent, once Sam started dating Adam, but they never went away for good.

She knew, now, as an adult, what she couldn’t understand back then- that she didn’t have to be gay in order to kiss girls, and she didn’t have to be straight in order to like dating boys. And she didn't have to understand her feelings, in order to be in love with her best friend.

They never talked about it, and Sam never kissed Kelly, on the forehead or anywhere else, and now she never could.

She still thought about it, though. Sometimes.

***

Note: This one's pretty personal to me. When I started questioning, it felt like anxiety. It felt like intrusive thoughts. It felt like something bad. It took awhile to learn that it was something good, and I didn't need to be afraid of who I am. Sam Brown reads to me like an anxious bisexual who grew up not knowing bisexuality existed, but mired in the culture's homophobia enough to be terrified when she started to figure it out. This is an ode to that Samantha, and to me, and to you, if you can relate.

[galwithalibrarycard]

Inaccurate Halloween decorations!

Oh my god, of course, I should have tagged you, you write fic! I'm so sorry for forgetting! I'd love to know about your WIPs too!

So this one was supposed to be posted for Halloween season in October, but I didn't get it together in time. I really want to finish it at some point, but I'm not sure if I should wait til this coming October to post it, or just post it whenever. The setup is that Brennan and Booth and the kids are at the grocery store in October, and Christine finds a display of those extremely inaccurate plastic animal skeletons they sell nowadays. Brennan is annoyed. Booth is amused.

Snippet:

“Kind of a cute little thing, isn’t he,” Booth says, looking at the plastic dog skeleton Christine had left behind. “Should we get it?”

“No, Booth! It’s scientifically inaccurate! What are we teaching our children if we allow them to grow up with misinformation like this on display?”

“Aw c’mon, Bones, live a little,” Booth says, picking up a horse skeleton with a bone shaped like a mane on its rear.

“That is even worse,” Brennan laughs. “It’s as though no one at this decoration company has ever opened a book!”

“Maybe you should get a side gig designing scientifically accurate Halloween decorations,” he teases. “Tis the season for Bones, after all!”

Also, I'm trying to work in a bit about Hodgins having Opinions about the scientific accuracy of fake rubber Halloween spiders and insects, because I'm sure he would both adore any accurate ones he found and delight in pointing out the inaccuracies in the bad ones. It just makes me happy as a concept, all of our scientists being gleefully pedantic about their specialties. And Halloween! :)

[monstrous-femme]

Tagged by @yxlenas to find some random words in some random WIPs

My words are: hell, stop, waist, hour, right

Tagging @galwithalibrarycard @flowersandstarlight @runawaymarbles @bus-ghoul and @goonflower

Your words are: loser, night, evidence, spider, and pain

From like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird

“You’re a bard and I’m coming to meet you. Outside the Met. Four hours form now,” she says, and hangs up before Eddie can say he has work, or that he’s too busy, or anything else that hasn’t happened yet but easily could happen this time. It’s a Tuesday in the middle of summer, the summer right after she graduated and hasn’t found a job yet. She leaves the city, then drives like a bat out of hell for as long as she can before finally hitting the New York traffic.

and

Nancy looks out at the water. “I guess you’re right,” she says softly. The thought of never getting to hold Robin again, never getting to kiss her like she so badly wants to, is a vice around her ribs that is only slightly loosened by the thought that she might have those things with Chrissy. “There’s no real reason not to, is there?”

from an upcoming ronance smut fic

“Sure,” Robin says. She slides ungracefully from her bar stool and joins Nancy on the dance floor, where Nancy’s arms move to around her waist (fantastic, 10/10), but her leg remains woefully far from being between Robin’s legs (reasonable but also greatly disappointing.) “I can’t believe you just struck out,” Robin says. “She looked so into you.” That’s what a chill, regular person who doesn’t have a giant crush on Nancy would say, right? Probably? Maybe?

from my abandoned Trobed fic

“Well, I was in town for my annual Bingo tournament, and we all went out to the bar to celebrate when who should I see but my good friend Jeffrey! Of course, I came over to say hi, and to my complete surprise—but delight, of course—when I asked if I could buy you a drink, you said, and I quote, ‘I suppose I can’t stop you.’ And the rest was fate, of course!” “And this is a real, legally binding marriage?” “Well of course, nothing but the best for my marriage! And the great news is, it’s legal in Colorado too, so we’ll be able to bring it home with us! Tell me, whose apartment should we live in? Full disclosure, mine’s a little messy, but it’s all part of the Craig Pelton charm, that’s what I say. Of course, there’s quite an argument to be made for your apartment too! Who knew that being married would have so many things to consider?”

and

“Troy, are you suggesting that we drive three hours to middle of nowhere Nevada because the name of the place makes you giggle?” “Well, are you suggesting we sit around for another three hours waiting for Annie to text us back when they’ve clearly all ditched us?” “Well, to get there we’d need a car.” Slow pan to the dresser, where Jeff had conveniently left the keys to his rental car before going out last night. Abed’s face curves into a smile. Across the room, Troy’s smile is identical. “Well, I guess we’re going to Gold Butte.”

[galwithalibrarycard]

Title: knowledge that lies beyond my reach

Author: galwithalibrarycard

Fandom: Stranger Things

Ship: Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham

Tags: Fluff, Post Season 3, Movie Date, Sneaking into a Movie, Disney’s The Black Cauldron, Black Cauldron spoilers, Stranger Things Femslash Week

Summary: It isn’t until just before the opening title that another person enters the theater, making Robin start in her seat. The other person has come over to sit right next to her, and who does that?

“You know, there’s a whole theater full of empty seats you could’ve chosen, and you don’t even know me. You have no right to invade my space without at least asking if you can sit here, and- oh.”

“Hi,” says Chrissy Cunningham with a smile. “Snuck in too, huh? I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Robin sneaks into a movie, needing to escape the summer heat and the newfound knowledge of spies and otherworldly monsters that has made Hawkins feel suddenly more menacing than ever. Chrissy Cunningham is also trying to escape. Why she decides to do that by sitting right next to Robin, is one mystery Robin doesn't have the answer to. Yet.

Written for Day 7: Free Day of @strangerthingsfemslashweek !

I can’t believe it’s the last day! Thank you all for a wonderful week! 💕