#having gotten the 'i have to write about these feelings now in some way or i'll explode' stuff out of my system

[xetlynn]

ekko and reader friends to lovers where reader gets hurt and ekko freaks out and confesses his feelings

I was half asleep writing this, please forgive me for the weird writing🙏

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Investigation

[arcane] [main page]

Two Fireflies running through the back allies. Following the map that was given to them to track down some corrupt officers that have been known to go to a certain area of the Undercity to mock and terrorize defenseless people. 

Normally they’d have other people with them but today was just investigating what was going on. Making sure the rumors are true before creating an attack. “I can get a look up top. Stay here.” You speak behind a mask, motioning up the pipe covered in overgrown plants. “Be careful.” Ekko mutters as you were already halfway up the building. Partially ignoring his words. Almost falling a few times. 

Grabbing onto the ledge of the structure, lifting your torso upon it before throwing your legs over. Not very graceful looking but you didn’t care. You snuck over to the other side of the ledge and glanced over. Seeing three officers laughing as they were going towards a woman holding a large bag. You furrowed your brows before going back to the pipe. “C’mon, I see them.” You slide down slowly, if you didn’t have gloves you would’ve gotten scratches and some sort of burn from the weeds. 

You trip as you land on the ground, you catch yourself before falling and turning around to do a stupid pose at Ekko. He shakes his head, walking ahead of you. “Rude.” You whisper under your breath before sprinting after him. You turn the corner and hide behind a crater once the officers are in clear view. 

“Hey, princess! Where you going with that heavy bag?” The first of the three asks with a smirk.

 The lady looks at them in fear. “Uh-m.” She takes a step back. “Uhm? Is that Undercity for something we don’t know about?” The next one speaks. She glances around, not knowing what to do or say. They begin to corner her, backing her into a wall. “We asked you a question, lady. You gonna answer or give us some trouble?” The first one asks, hands on his hips. The third and second snicker. 

Your fists curl as your body tenses. Ekko looked over at you, he couldn’t see your face but he knew the exact expression you were making. “Don’t do it, [Name].” He says quietly in your ear. You roll your eyes, leaning away from him. “I’m not doing anything.” You grunt. 

“I know what you want to do though.” He looks back to the scene in front of him. The first enforcer smacks the back out of the girl's hand. It falls to the ground. You grab onto the crate, wanting to break it. “Check what's inside it.” The first one says to the two beside him. Second guy picks it up, shoving his hand inside the bag. Taking out a baby blanket and baby toys. “Are you pregnant?” The first guy tilts his head. “N-no, it’s for my little sister.” The lady stammers, watching them go through her things. “Ah too bad. My wife’s been needing a few things for our daughter…” He hums, pretending to be disappointed. You were shaking with rage. They’re from the Uppercity and they want to steal from the less fortunate!? How does that make sense? “[Name]. Please. I’m figuring out how to get the stuff don’t worry.” Ekko places a hand on your back. You shoot your head his way. “Hurry.” 

“My sister needs that stuff though.” The girl cries out, she goes to grab the bag but gets shoved back into the wall. You stand up, jumping over the crate and attacking the guy who pushed her. “[Name]!” Ekko grabs his head, irritated that you didn’t listen to him. He turns around the building, wracking his brain on how to help you and the other girl now. Making an escape plan. 

You attempt to choke the guy out, he flails around, reaching behind him to pull you off but you don’t loosen your grip. Legs wrapped around him like a koala to a tree. “You bitch, let me go!” The enforcer shouts, back into a wall and slamming your body. It barely affects you, you tear off his hat, pulling at his hair and scratching his face. “You like putting your hands on women? Huh?” You grit your teeth, unfortunately your attack didn’t last long when the other enforcers pulled you off of the main guy. 

You kick your legs. “Don’t touch me!” You scream, shimmying out of their grip. Kicking one guy in the crotch. Elbowing the other guy in the face. “Fuck!” 

You grab the closest thing to you, which was a metal scrap. You hit the one guy repeatedly until he was curled on the ground. When you look up to the second one he was already running away. 

Your attention goes back to the first guy and the guy who you had on the ground got up to follow the other that ran away. You take out your pocket knife, flipping it open. You jab at him but he dodges out of the way. The two of you go back and forth for a while until you step on one of the child’s things, slipping backwards on your ass. “Hah, stupid cunt.” The enforcer laughs. You slide your body backwards. 

“Oh. no you don’t.” He stomps down on your ankle, putting his full weight on you. You scream out in pain. Ekko comes running towards you as the officer twists on your already broken bone. Ekko takes the baby toy and breaks it over the guy's head. The enforcer turns to him, finally getting off of your ankle. The pain shoots throughout your body. You let out a sob, gripping onto your own jacket. 

Ekko fights with the enforcer, throwing punches towards his face. The guy couldn’t keep up with the hits, losing balance. The girl they were helping comes up with the scrap you originally had and bashes the enforcer's head, knocking him out. 

The girl breathes heavily, Ekko running down to your aid. You don’t move the hurt leg, just holding yourself as you cried. “Shit.” You mutter, throwing your head back. “You okay? Can you move it?” He touches your shoulder, his other hand on your knee. “No! I can’t! It hurts!” You hyperventilate. He frowns. “I can get someone to help. I’ll be right back.” The girl from before says, picking up her things. Ekko only nods in response as she runs away from the scene. 

“It’s going to be alright, I promise.” His body shakes, hating that you got hurt because he didn’t know how to help. Wanting to figure out a safe exit instead of joining the fight. “Ekko, it hurts.” You whine, grabbing onto his arm and gripping it. “I know, I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” He looked around, he didn’t know where the girl was going or when she’d come back. 

Your best bet was getting you to the other Fireflies. There was a medic there. “Okay, I’m going to lift you up. You think you’ll be okay?” He questions, getting on his feet, crouched down to get into position to lift you up. “Maybe, I don’t know.” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut. You were sweating from how bad it hurt and the mask only made it worse. 

“Okay, on the count of three I’m going to lift.” He warns you, his arm going underneath your knees and the other firmly on your back. “Mhm.” 

“One… two… three.” His body goes up and you let out a squeal. The feeling of your ankle not having a place to rest made the injury ache. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats, running through the allies back to home. Your little noises of pain only made his heart hurt even more. It was his fault you were dealing with this. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He slows his pace a little just in case but you shake your head violently. “Keep going please!” You beg, your head against his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his body. He pushes forward, turning down the last ally. Two Firefly members stood in front of the entrance. “Open it!” He shouts, the two were confused at first but when they saw your body in his arms they hurriedly did as told. 

After getting to the medic, he worked his magic, wrapping your ankle. Ekko was outside the room the entire time, pacing back and forth as he had to hear your pain-filled cries. They gave you pain medicine but it hadn’t kicked in yet. 

When it went quiet he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were staring at the door. The medic comes out, Ekko attempts to rush in but he’s stopped with a hand on his chest. “Let us speak first.” 

Ekko’s eyes land on your body lying limp on the bed, chest heaving up and down. The medic closes the door. “She won’t be able to walk on that for 6 months. Whoever did that to her crushed it to a point that I’ve never seen before.” He tells Ekko whose nose is scrunched in anger. “Here’s the pain medicine she’s going to need for the next few weeks until the pain calms down.” He shakes the bottle before handing it over. 

“Anything else?” Ekko asks, antsy to see you. “No, go ahead.” 

The boy was next to you as fast as you heard the door open. You squint your eyes open. The light being bright after wearing a mask and tears not flooding down your face anymore. “I’m so sorry.” Ekko falls down to his knees, his head bowed down. “It’s not your fault. I was an idiot to think I could take them.” You sigh. “I’m sorry for not listening to you.” You sincerely tell him. He looks up at you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” He grabs your hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t help you. If I stepped in this wouldn’t have happened to you. Hearing your pain was like daggers through me. It’s my fault this happened. I can’t protect the one person that means so much to me.” He rants with a sour expression on his face. Gripping onto your hand. 

“Like that scream you let out, I repeat it in my head. It’s all I hear right now. How could I let this happen to someone I love?” He tears up, you watch him quietly as he vents. Your heart filled with butterflies by his words. “You love me?” You ask in a whisper. His eyes widened, just now catching what he just blurted out.

“I mean, I have love for you. Am I in love with you? Pssh, I mean I could be? Who knows? I say crazy things sometimes.” He lets go of your hand, now rambling on and on. 

“Ekko.” You smile. “Yes?” He asks with his hands behind him. Looking guilty. “I love you too.” You giggle.

“Really?” His head perks up, you nod, putting your arms out for him to hug you. He falls into your body, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Thank god because I would’ve killed myself or something if you didn’t feel the same way.” He jokes, causing you to laugh loudly. “You’re so stupid.” You snort. 

“Whatever, you love me.” He proudly reminds you, keeping himself on top of you. 

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: Why is it that potions is always so problematic? Not proofread

Chapter 68: Mysteries and Mayhem

Friday, 14th, 1977

“I think we have to tell her,” Evan said as he threw the quaffle towards the canopy of the bed and caught it again. 

“We don’t have to tell her anything,” Barty retorted. He was working on Evan’s desk and had his back to him. He always revised Evan’s essays since Evan had mild dyslexia and a tendency to confuse the names of some ingredients along with the position of TH and HT at the end of some words. Evan was brilliant at Potions, but the memoir writing had always been tricky for him. 

“She would tell us if she knew about something like this,” he said as he caught the ball and threw it upwards again. Regulus’ snitch was floating around the room since it had accidentally gotten out from its chest when Evan opened it to take the quaffle. It always helped him destress to play with it, but he never bothered with the snitch, he thought it was too small and a pain in the ass to chase.   

“She wouldn’t tell us shit,” Barty responded. “She doesn’t like to meddle.” 

“But she has meddled, and in our favour, you know this!” 

“Please stop it with the quaffle,” Barty said with a sigh. Evan stopped throwing it and placed it on the side of the bed, now rolling it around with his hand. “It’s none of our business what they do behind closed doors. And we would be outing those two if we told her.” 

“How would you feel, I was cheating on you with Dorcas?” 

“I’d break her neck,” Barty retorted without hesitation.

Evan wasn’t entirely sure if he meant it as a joke or not, but chose to believe he did. “Right, see? She should know!” 

“She’s the dumb one for not noticing.” 

“It is not something you normally expect. Especially not if you were born in the wizarding elite.” 

“Evan,” Barty whined. “Why should we care? We’ve done our good deed of the century by shutting stupid Severus up about it.” 

“I’m gonna tell her,” Evan said with determination. 

“And you’ll just accomplish what Severus wanted.” 

“I know you don’t like her–” 

“You don’t like her either.” 

“Well, she’s conceited and loves to rub how good she is at flying but… I never expected her to help me the way she did.” 

“So what? You’re gonna go braid each other’s hair, is that it?” Evan threw the quaffle at Barty’s head, the latter got the hit unexpectedly and turned around to him as he gasped. “You’re such a git! I’m trying to check your homework.” 

“You’re no better,” Evan retorted. “It’s just– I wouldn’t want people laughing behind my back.” 

“Maybe she knows and they’re using her as a cover,” Barty said, although he didn’t believe it.

“Impossible. She’s for sure in love with that dick. I mean I knew he was an asshole but–”  

“Not to the point of using someone like that?” Barty offered. “I think we really shouldn’t meddle. We’ve somehow reached a ceasefire, you don’t want to start shooting again, do you?”

“She helped me! Even after the fire, my dad seemed pleased at the insinuation that we– you know.”  

Barty sighed, standing from the desk and walking towards his bed, the same bed Evan considered as his own most of the time. “If you really want to tell her, then I’ll come along with you.” 

Evan smiled and lifted himself up to press a short kiss on Barty’s lips. As they were pulling apart the door busted open and Barty appeared a book on his lap and started saying something about a spell. 

“It’s just Regulus,” Evan said as he tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t you see the busy sign on the door?” 

“I did,” Regulus responded. “Decided to ignore it, though.” 

“I swear it runs in the family,” Evan said with an eye roll. He liked Regulus, but that didn’t stop him from thinking he was a bit of an entitled prick, much like his brother. 

And Evan himself, according to Barty. Who in turn, was also considered one by the rest of his class. Either way, they consider themselves an acquired taste, after all, Evan had hated Barty’s guts before falling in love. 

“Shhh...” Regulus said as he lifted his hand. “I think I hear something?”

“What?” Asked Evan.

“The sound of two tossers who are about to go use someone else's room to make out.” 

“Bitch,” Barty said as he threw the quaffle his way.

Regulus was fast enough to dodge and then noticed his snitch floating around. “For Salazar’s sake! How many times have I told you not to let the Little Star out?” 

“Little Star?” Evan asked. 

“The snitch,” Retorted Barty a little exasperated. 

“You named your snitch little star?” Evan asked in disbelief. “Is that because you’re the big star? You’re such a nerd!” Regulus flipped his wand, the green covers on Barty’s bed slipped from beneath him and threw him on the floor. “A mean nerd.” 

Fridays could have been your favourite day of the week, your first class was at 9 rather than at 7, which meant you didn’t have to wake up remarkably early, even if you were still doing practice flying with James and Sirius. And although classes didn’t end early, your last class was among your favourites, and the one before lunch was Magic Theory, which meant more time to spend playing around. The real problem was the 9 am class, divination. 

You’d gotten used to Spellman, and it seemed like he had also gotten used to you. The pressure that he seemed to be putting on you at the beginning of the course had slowly dissipated, and even if you still had good grades in his class, since you’d seen most divination techniques with your previous teacher, he seemed to focus a lot more on Sybil, which you were insanely grateful for.

And unlike you, Sybil seemed to actually want to pursue a career in divination, which Spellman supported as dutifully as any good teacher would. 

“Hey!” She said as you walked inside. You had a bottle of almost boiling green tea in hand since the day had been pretty chilly while flying and even after Lily cast that warming charm over your coat, you were still shivering slightly. 

“Hi!” you retorted with a smile as you sat beside her. Since that one class when you’d gotten paired, you had been working together on every single class, which you thought was excellent. 

Sybil’s father, Deplhus Trelawney, was an unofficial member of the order, and he’d told Sybil what’d happened at the party. Besides, it didn’t take an empath to notice how it had flipped your world almost upside down. So she avoided the basic “How did your break go?” question since she knew it would be a terrible one. It was obvious that it had gone mostly like shit. It did make her feel better that you looked like you were coping, whoever it was that you were. 

“Want some tea? It’s got a little bit of milk.” 

“Sure,” she said with a smile and pulled a mug from the cupboard. Those were technically for divination, but some students used them every once in a while for their morning coffee, and since that was the one thing that kept some awake, Spellman allowed it. As you served she noticed the wand you’d placed on the side of your desk. She stared at it for a second and then turned back to you. 

“I can explain that,” you rushed out, almost stumbling with your words. 

“I’m glad you have it,” she said with a smile. “I’d hate it if it had been lost at their hands.” 

“You know about–” 

“I know enough,” she replied. “We don’t have to talk about that, though.” 

You nodded with a small smile, “Thanks.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” she said simply. 

“How was your break?” you asked. 

“We stayed home,” she responded. “We had dinner and then a small tea ceremony at New Year’s. Grandma thinks it’s the best way to start the year.”

“Doesn’t she read your star chart? Mine used to do that.” 

“Oh certainly.” 

“Anything good?” 

“She said this might be the year my talents finally bloom,” Sybil said sceptically. “She’s a brilliant divinator on everything else, but she’s been telling me that since I was 13.” 

You laughed. “My mom she–” There was a small hesitation before you continued. Still not used to living in a world where she didn’t. You’d been in boarding schools since you were eleven, and although you were relatively used to her absence, it had never been this long without a letter, or a message, or any type of contact. “She used to say that it was going to be the year I got good at herbology every year.” 

“Did it ever happen?” 

“Still waiting,” you retorted with a half smile. “She, on the other hand, is– was really good at it. We used to have a stunning garden, and she’d often get angry about me plucking her stuff for make believe potions.” 

She was about to say something when Professor Spellman walked inside the classroom, his robe trailing behind him in that elegant manner that it tended to have whenever he walked inside a room. “This is not a picnic Miss Doxon, please put your cookies in your bag or I’ll vanish them.” 

“‘M sorry,” she retorted as she placed one of the cookies in her mouth and placed the rest on her bag. 

Spellman nodded, walking straight to the middle of the classroom before eying everyone. “How long have we kept this sitting arrangement?” he asked. 

“Most of the year,” responded a Ravenclaw boy. “I was actually wondering if we would change soon.” 

“Divination is often done better when you keep your partner, it becomes easier since you already know a good deal about them,” Sybil said.

“So we’re not changing?” asked Beth.

“Not quite,” Spellman said later. “Although we have had some wonderful pairs so far, for this class in particular it’s better to work with someone to whom you’ve never divined before.” 

You threw a look at Sibyl who just shrugged. She was curious about who she’d be divining for. Hoping it wouldn’t be someone to closed off to the art, which was, unfortunately, rather common.

“What are we going to work with, Professor?” asked Tom. 

“Spanish Deck,” he replied rather somberly. 

You looked up at him as if you were a deer trapped in headlights. Reading someone’s cards was something you thought you’d ever have to do again. Sybil looked at you apprehensively. “Sir, can I keep working with my partner? I think we’re both quite–” 

“I’m sorry Sybil, It is not possible, your deep knowledge of each other might taint the cards.”

“But we’re all friends,” said Tom. “We all have a pretty deep knowledge of each other.”  

“Not in divination,” said Spellmam calmly. “Please, stand up and make two lines. The left will take runes from this side and the right from this one.” 

You walked into the line in which Sybil wasn’t, but Spellman caught it and put the two of you in the same line seconds later. “I’m sorry, but you cannot be in the same team,” he said to you as he placed his hand on your shoulder and lightly pushed you to the other line. 

As you walked through the line, you crossed your fingers, almost begging the gods of chance that you didn’t get anyone you were close to.  You took your stone, it was one of the trickiest characters in the Norse Alphabet. Two lines with an X in the middle: degaz. 

“I’ve got Isa,” said Sybil, who got paired with Lily. 

“I have Jara,” said Sirius, and ended up with Tom. 

“It’s an R,” said Peter. 

“Do you mean Raido?” asked Remus as he showed him his stone, the two of them got together. 

Marlene and Mary were paired with some Ravenclaws and Beth with one of her roommates. You thought you were safe, that you wouldn’t have to read the fortune of any of your friends when James pulled his stone up in the air and asked. “Does anyone have Degaz?” 

You closed your eyes in defeat, a small frown adorning your face as you opened them again. “Me,” you said as you lifted your stone.

“Lovely,” James said as he approached you with a smile. “Have you ever read the Spanish Deck?” 

“Yeah,” you responded. “But I’d much rather be the one that gets a read and not the other way around?” 

“Sure,” James said with a shrug and a nod. He could tell there was something that made you uneasy, and while he didn’t really care for getting his cards read, it wasn’t a huge deal for him to do the reading. 

Spellman flipped his wand and the chairs changed their places, they were now one in front of the other instead of side by side.  “Please take your seats,” he said. “The books on Spanish Deck will be on your desks shortly.” 

Since Lily and Sybil took the chair you normally used, James and you walked towards the one in the back where he usually sat with Sirius. 

“Please shuffle the cards, Madame,” he said after he dug his finger into the flap of the side of the small box, pulled them out and moved the whole deck towards you. “These are kind of worn, though,” he said as he spotted some scribblings on the side of one and flipped it back into place. 

“It’s better when they are,” you said as you took them in your hands. You started to shuffle them mindlessly, not bothering to look at them while you spoke. “The more time they’ve been shuffled the more magic they’re imbued with. Of course, it’s better when the deck belongs to one witch and not the entire school, since that can make them a bit unpredictable but either way, the older they are, the better they become at–” 

“How are you doing that?” James asked as you flipped the cards from one side to the other, he seemed completely enthralled by the way you were shuffling them.  “Since when can you shuffle like this? Why didn’t I know?” 

“Oh,” you said as you finally noticed what you were doing. “They made me read these a lot in my older school. I got fidgety sometimes. Tarot too, but you can’t shuffle them as much since they’re thicker.”

“Still they’re easier to read,” James said as he flipped through some of the pages in the book that had floated towards the table a few minutes earlier. “These all have so many different meanings. I mean the 2 of clubs means that you might travel but the third means love, and the 6 means despondency and destruction. It makes zero sense.” 

“The third kind of does,” you said as you pulled out the card for him to see. Three clubs tied to each other with a thick ribbon. “Doesn’t it remind you of the ties and connections related to love?” 

“I don’t know…” James responded with a shrug, “I guess it kind of does.” 

You flipped the card back into the deck and shuffled it by splitting it into two smaller lots, placing them on the table, taking one end and allowing cards from both sides to fall on the table at the same time, having them entwine together, and then turning your hands and flipping them all into one single stack. 

“That’s it,” James said as you handed them back to him. “You’ll be the dealer next time we play cards, no objections.” You laughed and shook your head as he looked back at the book. He placed them on the table again. “Please divide them in three.” 

You did, and afterwards knocked on each stack once as you said “For me, For my past and for what I’d like to know.” 

“Oh, thanks,” James said when he noticed what you’d done. “Uh… Which type of throw was that for?” 

“Gypsy, that’s a 9 by 4.” You responded. “You throw them starting on the left, and when you’re done with that row you continue on the right, making a long chain, or a snake, I suppose.” 

James gave you a small side smirk and started placing the cards one by one, facing him. When he was done he looked up at you, adjusting his glasses and biting the side of his cheek. 

“Well go on,” you said. 

“It says you can assign cards to people…” 

“I’m the 8 of swords,” you told him. “I’m always the 8 of swords.”

“Why?” Asked James curiously. 

“I’ve been told it represents me,” you retorted.

“Ah, it’s because you’re stubborn,” he said as he found the page with the card’s explanation. 

“It’s perseverance, Prongs!” 

“Perseverance, tenacity, stubbornness… they’re all the same thing in different degrees of intensity.” 

You laughed as you shook your head. “Fine then, you’re here,” he pointed at the card. “And this throw is about your past, right?” 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “At least on this technique, we’re supposed to make three throws.” You looked back at the cards. “What do you see?” 

“Eh, well… you look… sad,” he said as he noticed the sheer amount of clubs beside your card. There was a 6 right next to you, and on the other side, there was a four of swords. “That means trouble, right?” He asked as he pointed at it. 

“Yeah,” you said, being completely appalled and in deep sorrow was quite on par with how you’d been not too long ago. 

“There’s also a– a trip,” he started, pointing at the 2 of clubs below you, and just under that there was a 6 of cups. “Cups!” he said excitedly. “Cups are meant to be good, right?” 

“Not those,” you said. “It’s a trip to melancholy, sadness over bad memories,” you explained, which was also quite accurate, and not new to either of you. 

“Right, but next to these swords we have a three of clubs, that means love, yeah?” 

“But it’s next to the swords that indicate trouble,” you said as you pointed at the swords next to it. “It means trouble with relationships. And that 5 of swords on the other side, with the middle sword pointing straight towards the clubs? It means break up and changes.” 

“Are you kidding me?” he asked in disbelief. “Is there anything good on this throw?” There was a small minute of silence before he spoke again. “This one has to mean something good, there’s a lot of gold at the top. And sixes are bad, but that’s to the top left, so it means that the bad stuff was in the past, right?” 

“Yeah, 6 of gold means problems, but it’s next to an 8 that’s right on top of me.” 

“That means–” he flipped through some pages. “thought and reflection, and that has a 5 of gold afterwards, which means settlement, and resolution. And… you have to hear this: The discovery of a significant emotional bond.” 

“Must have been the mirror,” you said as you looked at the coins. “And the fact that I figured the whole thing out with Remus and Sirius.” 

“Are they here?” he asked as he looked at the cards.  

“Probably,” you responded as you looked around. “Must be these two, look,” you said as you pointed at the gold knight, whose face was turned towards you from your down left, and the knight of swords who was next to him. “See how the horses are looking at each other but they’re avoiding each other’s gaze?” 

“Mhm,” James nodded. 

“It’s because they’re in love, the horse represents their heart’s true desires, I think. The 4 of cups under Remus represent his… um… desire. And the 4 of clubs under Sirius represent his resistance to it.” 

“You really are good at this,” he said as he stared at the throw. “You see anything else?” 

“No, you?” 

“Well this Ace of clubs and 9 of swords together mean something bad,” he said pointing at the cards that were beside the 6 of cubs you got at first. “And there’s a person right above them, a Jack of Gold, that represents a woman, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “9 of swords and ace of clubs can mean a life-altering situation.” 

“And if they’re next to a 4 of swords,” he read, “It can even mean dea–” 

“Must be Nina,” you said, pointing at the Jack. “Jack of Gold often represents a fair woman, clever. Suits her, doesn’t it?” 

He looked at you, apprehension in his eyes as he rolled his tongue over his cheek. “Should we go for the next throw?” he offered. 

“Yes,” you said, turning back to him. “These are not the fondest of my memories.” 

“You can read mine if you want instea–” 

“No,” you said almost too quickly, interrupting James mid-sentence.  “I mean, this is fine. I much prefer being on this side of the deck.” 

“You never liked divination much, did you?” He asked as he gathered the rest of the cards. 

“Not much,” you admitted. “It’s a family thing,” you said. “Nan always divined for bad things, my mum for goods, and I always get the bad stuff too.” 

“Maybe you don’t look for the good?”

“Trust me, I look for the good. But for some reason, I still get the bad stuff.” 

“Well then, I’ll be your seer,” he said as he passed you a bunch of cards. “Please, shuffle them again,” he added solemnly.

“You really could open your own reader stand,” you said with a laugh. “He didn’t look much like a “seer” but with the right clothing? Perhaps switching his school robes and his go-to red Converse with something like Professor Spellman’s clothes. Maybe some gold bracelets and a fake earring. He could definitely pull off the look. 

“You’re staring at me weird,” he said as you placed the cards on the table and divided them into three smaller stacks. 

“For me, for my present, and for what I’d like to know,” you said while knocking on the stacks and then turned to him. “I was just imagining you on a dress.” 

“Why?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes on you.

“For the authentic seer look,” you said with a shrug.

He hummed unsatisfactorily in return and started throwing your cards. “You know,” he started as he placed a king of clubs, “I look delightful in a dress.” 

“Bet.” 

“Honest,” he said as he placed yet another card onto the floor. “I have mean calves and a nice waist.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, trying not to laugh. 

“Some need corsets for a nice waist, I got mine with hours of quidditch.” 

“Fascinating!” 

“Yes and–” he turned to you, noticing the small smile creeping on your lips. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“I’d never dream of it,” you retorted. 

“You ARE making fun of me,” he said with a pout, and placed another card on the pile. He was near the beginning of the third row. “Ah look, it’s you.” 

“James,” you said and he turned to you while keeping another eye on the cards. “Have you ever worn a dress?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a simple nod. “For Halloween, and I also once lost a dare with Sirius.” 

“The two of you wore dresses?” 

“Mhm, medieval stuff, Peter and Remus made us do a catwalk and we had to wear them for a whole Weekend.”

“I would pay to see that,” you said with a laugh. “Are there any photos?” 

“I think Remus must have taken some,” he said with a shrug. “Okay, done.” 

You turned to look at the cards and almost laughed at the fact that both Remus and Sirius were right beside you. Their horses looking at you, and right on top of the three was the three of clubs. “Well, seems like you have quite a happy relationship,” he said. 

“Yeah, you said, looking at the cards. This time around there was a lot more Gold and cups around. That meant good things. 

“That’s Victory, right?” he pointed at the ace of golf right underneath you. 

“Indeed, and it’s next to–”

 He checked the book, “–5 of gold, which means well-being and on the opposite, there is, oh,” he frowned. “A 7 of swords…” 

“Those are good, actually,” you told him. “It means hope, and it’s right under Remus, so…” 

“Right,” James said as he remembered, his hazel eyes almost sparkling. “It means you’ve found someone who gives you the confidence to believe in a better future.” You smiled. That was certainly who Remus was for you. 

“There’s also a cup next to the love clubs,” he said as he tried to remember what that meant. “The Ace.” 

“It stands for home, and family. The fact that it has the three clubs on the left and the 7 of cups on the right also means good things.” 

You agreed with a small “hum” as he revised the book. 

“It also says it means fullness of plenitude.” He read something and smirked. “Do you feel like your deepest darkest desires have been fulfilled?” 

“Prongs.” You warned.

“I mean I’m just asking based on what I see here… Talking about cups, do you know what this one means?” he asked as he pointed to the 4 beside the nine of clubs.  The card in question had 4 gold and red cups, one in each corner, and read “Naipe Color Oro” in the centre. 

“Instincts,” you said almost a little too fast. 

“And carnal desires,” James added with a smirk. “And this one right here,” he pointed at the clubs, “it’s satisfaction… and would you look at that, right beside  you and the boys. Now I might be getting carried away, but does this not mean that you’re all giving each other satisfaction in regards of carnal desires?” 

“Prongs, please!” you whined as you covered your face with your hands. 

He chuckled and then raised both hands in defeat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that this one looks much better than the previous one.” He then cleared his throat. “Right at the top of this line,” he pointed at the one with you on it. “There is a 4 of gold. The fact that it’s crowning the love cubs, you and the ace of golds right at the bottom means that there is an overall wellness in your love life.” 

“And the three of swords beside it?” 

“I think it’s a bad card, but not with what’s surrounding it. “It’s in between two positive ores,” he said as he checked his notes. “Gratifications, success and wellness, so I think it means, in the long run, you’ll be all right.” 

“Am,” you corrected. “This is about the present.” 

“But isn’t this one about the future?” he said as he pointed at the three of swords. 

“Not in the present throw,” you said. “It’s tricky, it can mean anything from years to days.” 

“But at least for now, it does mean good stuff, right?” 

“Yes, it does,” you said with a small smile and a nod. 

“Could this victory also be about quidditch?” He asked as he pointed at the ace underneath you. 

“I guess,” you said with a shrug. “But there’s still some time before the match, isn’t it? We’re not playing until May, depending on the sores they get in February and March.” 

“Shh,” he said as he shook his head. “I’m the seer, I think it means a Quidditch victory.” 

You shrugged, “Whatever you say Prongs… Just don’t write something like that on the quizzes.” 

“Have you been doing the dream interpretation homework?” he asked as he continued staring at the cards, trying to find something else. But he couldn’t find anything else that would be relevant, so he started gathering them in a single stack again. 

“I haven’t had many dreams lately,” you said. “Not since the darkness in the Ravenclaw tower.” 

“You… you dreamed of darkness in the tower?” 

“Yeah, I thought it was my imagination, but I guess it made sense… I’m making up most of the rest, though.”

“You’re making your dreams up?” 

“I found this book on dream interpretation in the library and I have been using it as inspiration,” you said with a shrug. 

“It’s time for the throw about the future,” he said as he offered you the stack again. 

“I’d rather not,” you said as you shook your head and pushed the cards back at him. 

“Things look good now, I’d rather not worry about what the future may hold.” 

“But–”

“If I had gotten a throw like the one I got in the past 5 months ago, I would have been scared shitless…” you said. “You know what I mean, right?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe we can make something up for the report?” 

“Like what?” you asked with a smile. 

 “I definitely see a quidditch win in your future,” he said with a smile.

“And how does that look?” 

“Wait…” he said as he looked through the stack and placed the 8 of swords on the table, followed by a knight of clubs, who he then switched with a jack of swords and added a knight of ores to your right. “So that’s me,” he pointed at the clubs. “Marlene and, of course, Padfoot,” he explained. 

“Aha…” you said with a smile. 

He then flipped through the cards until he found the two of clubs and placed it next to himself. “I am leading you all,” he added the ace of gold right next to that. “To victory.” 

You laughed and took a bunch from the stack in his hands. “This is Lily,” you said as you took the Jack of cups and placed it under him. You’re both standing over the love clubs,” you said as you raised your eyebrows at him in a teasing manner. “And look what’s above you, two of cups, you know what that means?” 

“You can’t predict Lily and I having children in your future!” 

“What do you mean I can’t? They’ll be my nephews and nieces, of course, I can predict that!” 

James humped in reply. “Well then,” he said as he spotted Remus and placed him underneath you. Then, on your top right corner, he added the four of cups. “You and the boys are having mighty fun as well.” 

“You’re such a dumbass,” you said as you looked for another card to add. Next to the victory you placed the ace of cups. “Means we’re a family.” 

“And,” he placed the 5th of cups under the family, “we’ll celebrate the victory tremendously.” 

“With gratification,” you said as you placed the 7 of gold underneath it. 

Your little game went on until the two of you had designed a wonderfully looking future. Your friends were all around you, Beth. Peter and Tom had been added close to the celebration, and most of the clubs and swords were as far away from all of you as possible, except for the few that weren’t. 

“Why are there so many cards missing? asked Spellman as he approached your table. 

“Ugh… because…” Prongs started. 

“It’s a celt-fae throw,” you said. “It’s a little tricky to make, and I’m trying to remember how to do it, teaching James in the process.” 

“Celt-fae?” he asked with a frown. 

“Yeah, my Nan taught me,” you nodded confidently. 

Spellman placed a hand under his chin and hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll see if we have some books on that in the library,” he added before walking towards someone else’s table. 

“You just made that whole thing up, didn’t you?” James asked you in a whisper. 

You laughed as you nodded, “I most definitely did.” 

“How long do you reckon he’ll be at the library looking for it?” 

You shrugged and then remembered that Sirius and Remus had told you about Spellman going to the forbidden section that one time. “More than one night, at least…” 

James shook his head while the two of you finished the future you’d like to have. “Does two cups mean two children?” he asked casually. 

“Just means children in general,” you retorted. “Why?” 

“I don’t know, I quite fancy the idea of having two of them.” 

“Yeah?” you asked as you tilted your head. “Boys or girls?” 

“I wouldn’t care,” he said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t mind one of each I guess. Imagine me braiding a little Lily’s hair.” 

“If it’s anything like our Lily, she might not let you touch it.” 

“She wouldn’t let anybody but me, touch it,” he retorted confidently. “And Lily, of course.” 

“Of course,” you laughed at the way he’d added that, almost as an afterthought. 

James scribbled something on a sheet of parchment and then passed it over to you. “What do you think?” 

You reviewed the parchment, it was a rather detailed writing of everything that you’d done that day, he had even made some stuff up regarding the fae-celt technique that was so realistic you had to do a double take “Oh, wow,” you said. “It looks like taken from a book.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Even if he doesn’t find anything, he’ll still think it’s a thing.” 

“Who knows, perhaps we’ve just made up a new way of predicting the future,” you added with a shrug.

You added just a few more details that you’d seen on the past and present readings, with some drawings of the most relevant or telling cards and looked at the page once more, pulling it back and showing it to James, “What do you think?” 

“It’s great!” he said with a simple nod, and the two of you stood up and walked towards Spellman’s desk. You handed over the paper while James placed the deck, and the book, along with the rest of the stuff. 

“How did it go?” asked Spellman, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Good,” you replied with a simple nod. You knew it hadn’t been his choice, but having been paired with James perhaps had been a saving grace. With his constant teasing and fooling around, and the fact that he was the one reading and not the other way around, you’d managed to escape what would have otherwise been a torturous situation.

He nodded at you calmly and told you and James that, since you were finished, you could exit the classroom. You stopped by Remus and Peter on the way out. Peter was incredibly confused as he looked in between the cards and the book, biting the side of his cheek as he looked at Remus completely appalled. 

“What does this even mean?” 

“May I?” you asked as you approached him, “Whose reading for whom?”               

“I’m the seer,” said Remus. “I’ve told him it’s nothing but he’s worried he’ll die.” 

You frowned and leaned over the cards, looking at them with a small analysing frown as you placed yourself beside Remus, your side brushing against his shoulder. “Present?” 

“Future,” answered Peter. “See those two? those are death!” 

“Are you supposed to be the Knight of Clubs or the Jack of Gold?” you asked as you looked at the two cards underneath the apparent death. 

“He’s the Knight of Swords,” Remus said, there was a slight hint of exasperation in his voice as if he had already told Peter the exact same thing. 

“But even then, not in a much better situation either, am I?” he asked as he pointed at his spot, near the top middle, leaning to the left.  “I’m surrounded by bad cards!” 

You sighed, “It looks like there are some weird things going on, like you’re going to have a fallout with some friends,” you said as you pointed at the Three of Cups being pointed at by an Ace of Swords from below and a Seven from the side. “That could make you or others feel dejected and upset. 

“But, even if you are a little upset, or perhaps sick, it seems like in the end, you’ll be somehow fulfilled with the choice you made,” you continued, studying the cards again. It was as if they were trying to tell you something. Peter was right, there was certainly something ominous about his throw but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know either. Your worst predictions often came true, and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to Peter; he was your friend. 

“You think?” 

“Yeah, and look,” you said, pointing at the diagonal line from his left. “It seems that you will eventually submit to something or someone, and you won’t feel too sad about the stuff that went down either, since you’ll still have a friend you consider home,” you said pointing at the King of Gold and at the Ace of Cups at the end of the line. 

“That means I’ll be fine?” 

You looked at the cards again. There were dark things in them that you didn’t want to think too much about, something baleful that you could feel and not quite see. If you had thrown them, perhaps it would have been easier, and although your magic had always been compatible with Remus’, readings were extremely delicate, and only the main seer could predict things with accuracy –if they were good. 

“Yeah,” you said reassuringly. “You’ll be fine, Pete.”  

“Told you so!” Said Remus as he rolled his eyes and wrote some things down in his notebook. “You’re perfectly safe in this throw.”

“That’s quite reassuring,” Peter said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” James said as he looked at the cards with a smile and patted Peter’s shoulder cheerfully. “See you in Magic Theory in a bit, yeah?” he said as he looked at the two of them.

“Sure,” Peter said as he started writing down the throw he’s gotten. 

You smiled at the two of them, turning to Remus with slight complicity before giving his shoulder a soft squeeze and walking outside with James. It was a simple way of telling him you loved him, and you knew he’d gotten the message with the small smile he returned.

“You think I showed up on Lily’s read?” He asked as he turned back to take a look at her once you reached the doors.

You looked at the way Lily was looking at her cards, there was a light tinge of red in her cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile, “She must have.” 

“That’s good,” James said as he turned back towards the hall. “You should ask what she got at lunch.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“So you can tell me all about it in practice later,” he said as if it were obvious. “Now that you’re dating Moons, I’m your best friend, which means it is your duty to help me.” 

“I’m not going to tell you everything that Lily says about you, James.” 

“I can tell you everything that Sirius and Remus say about you in exchange–” 

“No thank you,” you interrupted with a half laugh. “If either of them want me to know something, they’ll tell me themselves. And so will Lily with you.”

“I don’t know about that…” 

“James,” you said, turning to him, causing the two of you to stop. “Do you really think she would stay quiet if something was bothering her? Lily Evans?”  

He tilted his head to the side as he exhaled. “But what if her cards mentioned about us having children? What if they told her whether it’d be a boy or a girl?” 

“I think your imagination is getting out of hand, Prongsie.” 

“Is it impossible?” he asked. You were now near the stairs. 

You thought about it for a second. A Two of Cups plus a character person could definitely predict at least some of the basic traits of a future child, but it would be too complicated to spot, and it would require a lot of suppositions. “Well, technically it isn’t impossible but–” 

“See! She wouldn’t tell me that!” 

“Because then you wouldn’t stop talking about it, Prongs, so it makes sense that she–” Suddenly you were yanked by the arm from the side. Perhaps it was more like an intentioned pull, but since you were walking so intently while looking almost solely at James, it felt like a way sharper pull than intended. 

You turned to look at the hand grabbing onto your arm before looking at the owner. “We need to talk.” 

“Hey!” James said as he snapped Evan’s hand from your arm. “That’s no way to treat a Lady!” As if he hadn’t yanked you way harder on multiple occasions while playing Quidditch. His dislike for the Slytherin was obvious, and any excuse would do. 

Evan looked at James dismissively, as if he was nothing more than a nuisance, which was a lot coming from someone who had shied away from him with one look. “Don’t meddle, Potter,” Evan hissed. He then called your last name. “We need to talk.” 

He had said that last bit in such an urgent manner, that you felt compelled to listen, even if Barty leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his annoyed expression hadn’t made you any more eager to do it than you were to go back and read someone’s cards from scratch.

“Just leave us alone, Rosier!” James said as he took a step forward.

“It’s okay, Prongs,” you said with a nod. “I’ll see what he has to say.” 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah,” you replied confidently. Prongs stood by your side, waiting. 

Evan cleared his throat. “Do you mind?” he asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.

James threw Evan a look and took a few steps backward, crossing his arms over his chest as he spotted Barty walking towards you. 

You hadn’t talked to either of them since Christmas, regardless they had saved you, and since they had, you assumed the chances of them attacking you outright, were minimal. “So?” 

“Hope you’re feeling better,” Evan said, as politely as he could. Then he hesitated and turned to Barty, as if he wanted his help with whatever it was he had to say. There was a rather tense silence, Barty rolled his eyes and turned to you. 

“Your boyfriend is cheating on you.” You were startled by the information, so much so that you didn’t even react before he spoke again. “With your best friend.” 

Evan turned to Barty, with what looked like shock. “We weren’t gonna tell her that!” 

“I thought we were,” Barty said with a shrug. 

“What?” Was the only thing you managed to respond.

“Remus and Sirius,” Evan said, he looked apologetic, like he thought it wasn’t right to tell you but at the same time it was the only right thing to do. 

“Snape saw them, they were shagging in the Prefect’s Bathroom.” 

Oh, you thought, you had been there. You couldn’t possibly tell them that, could you? 

“Snape told you this?” 

“And he wanted to tell the entire school, make you feel miserable in the process,” Barty said. 

“You’d understand why we couldn’t allow that to happen, right? Same reason you helped me with my father?” 

“I–”

“We obliviated him,” Barty said with a small proud smirk, almost imperceptible. He knew it was a complicated spell. “I didn’t want to tell you, but Evan insisted.” 

“Right,” you said with a breath. “I– uh… I knew about that.” 

“You knew they were cheating?” Evan asked, surprised, but in a whisper. 

“No, I mean… They weren’t cheating.” 

“So you’re their cover?” he asked, still confused. “I thought–” 

“Not quite,” you said, before realising you could have just left them with that thought. 

“What?” 

Barty narrowed his eyes at you, and then he let out a breathy chuckle, sliding his tongue on the side of his cheek before looking to the side and shaking his head. He knew. 

“Evan, Luv.” He said, the smug smile he had did not disappear as he spoke. “It seems she has an arrangement with them.”

“An arrangement?”

“The three of them are into each other,” Barty said confidently. And then there was another sharp intake of breath. “Now that I think about it, she was more surprised that Severus told us than about the fact that they’d been shagging.” He smiled. “Why do you think that is?” 

“She knew,” Evan breathed. 

“Perhaps,” Barty said as he took a step closer. He wasn’t as tall as Evan, and even Reggie was taller, but you suspected he was still going to stretch. “She was there.” 

You kept your face as stoic as you could. Two more people to add to the list of those who knew, or rather, figured it out. “I appreciate the fact that you decided to tell me about it.” Barty raised an eyebrow. “And the fact that you obliviated that snake–” 

Evan hissed, and Barty mouthed “careful”. 

“–Severus,” you corrected. “For me.” 

“You’re welcome,” Barty retorted cockily. 

“It was nothing,” Evan said, much more politely. 

“I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t talk about the thing that we– you know, the thing.” 

“That you’re all fucking each other?” Barty asked nonchalantly and got a small slap on his arm from Evan. 

You didn’t respond, just looked at him with slight exasperation. He knew how to get under your skin. 

“We won’t say a thing,” Evan said with a small nod. “We’ll follow your example.” 

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him and nodding slightly. He shrugged in return. You turned towards James, who was looking at the two of them with a mix of hatred and curiosity. “I have class, now,” you added as you pointed towards James. 

Barty smiled. “Tell them to fuck themselves from my part when you see them,” he said as he waved. You turned to him with a rather pissed look and he smiled, adding, much lower this time, “Or each other.” 

“Everything all right? What’s that all about?” James said as soon as you reached him.

“They know,” you said with a tired sight.

“They know what?” 

“The details of my relationship,” you finished. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Hey kiddos! I'm finally back! Took me some time but GC is returning with it's regular schedule at least until the middle of December. Also, I wanted to inform you guys that there is a proofreading position open for GC (Proofreaders usually get to read chapters a week in advance, so DM me if you're interested).

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[ode-to-melpomene]

Hello!! I loved your writing for Daring rescue! It was a funny but still showed the vulnerable sides of the batboys!!!

I was wanting to request some fluff with Tim? Up to you! I just feel like he needs more fics!

I agree, Tim definitely needs more love! I hope you like it 💛

Weekend Off

Pairings: Tim Drake x gn!reader Synopsis: Weekend plans are often interrupted when you are dating a hero. Word Count: 985 Warnings: Fluff, and somewhat suggestive dialogue/flirting. Maybe subtly angsty at the end.

Tim tried not to bring vigilantism into your home. He knew you didn’t mind–in fact, you had teased him about how good he looked in his suit several times… but often he fought to keep you and that side of his life separated.

Tonight was not that night.

A last-minute call from Stephanie had changed his plans. He had planned to take the weekend off with you since you had just finished midterm exams and were feeling a lull in your college workload; but, if Steph was calling him for backup despite knowing his weekend plans, it was too important to ignore.

So, Tim hurriedly gathered what he needed. He was underprepared–too few supplies in his toolkit, given he didn’t want to bring extras into your apartment. He regretted that now and thoroughly wished he could hide a stockpile in the back of your closet. You would let him if he asked.

“I’ve got a cup steeping,” you called from the kitchen, your voice carrying through the adar door to the small bedroom Tim changed in. “You want some before you head out?”

“Coffee?” he asked with a crooked grin. He could picture the way your nose no doubt wrinkled in disgust.

“Tea,” you responded with an exaggerated sigh and a hidden smile. “Y’know, the one that’s actually good for you.”

“Coffee can be good for you,” he debated with a smile. Tim sat on the edge of the bed, his back to the door, and worked on pulling his boots on. They slid on easily over his socks–a comfortable pair you had gotten for him for his birthday after complaining about his feet aching after patrols. The comfort the socks brought him made it easy to ignore the pink flamingo pattern. “It helps boost metabolism and antioxidants-”

“And causes anxiety and sleep disruption,” you argued, your voice suddenly much closer than the kitchen. Tim turned to look over his shoulder at your figure standing in the doorway, sipping from the warm mug in your hands. “You and I both know you need more sleep.”

“I sleep best when I’m with you,” he replied. Tim stood with a tired sigh and adjusted his feet in the boots.

“Have I mentioned how much I like the suit?”

Tim laughed, turning to face you and your teasing grin. Your eyes roved over the suit, taking another sip as you ogled. “A few times, yeah.”

You hummed in reply then lowered the mug from your lips. “I prefer you without the cowl. The domino mask shows how handsome you are.”

“Being handsome doesn’t exactly help me stop crime.”

“It does if your good looks distracts them enough,” you quipped. Tim scoffed playfully and turned his back to you. He pulled his belt from the suitcase he had brought with him and fastened it around his waist.

“What, like how you get distracted?”

Tim fiddled with the buckle of his belt, waiting for your clever response. His brows rose when you held off as he adjusted the straps across his chest and centered the emblem. When he finally turned to face you again you were staring at him from beneath your lashes, a coy smile on your lips.

“Sorry, did you say something? I was too busy admiring how you look in that tight spandex-”

“Alright, enough out of you,” he chastised with a shake of his head. You barked out a laugh at his response, admiring the blush that rose on his cheeks. You set your mug of tea atop the dresser beside the bed and made your way over to him.

Your hands slipped beneath the tactical straps that crossed his chest. His hands landed on your waist, bunching the soft fabric of your pajamas beneath his gloved hands. “You look nice,” he uttered quietly.

You scoffed. “It’s the same pajamas I wear every time you come over.”

“And you look nice every time,” he answered, pressing a kiss to your temple. You huffed in response and your hands moved up, one cupping his cheek and the other tangling in his hair. You tipped his head, chasing his lips with your own.

“Wish you could stay,” you muttered against his lips between slow kisses. He hummed in response and cupped your jaw with one gloved hand. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to?”

Tim pulled away and fixed you with a stern look. You sighed and dropped your forehead to his chest with a dull thump.

“I’m going to watch your favorite show without you while you’re gone.”

Tim gasped softly in offense, although the way his hands moved across your back and pulled you flushed against him told a different story. “Criminal. You know I could throw you in Blackgate for something like that?” His hands cupped your cheeks and lifted your head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Good luck,” you huffed out a laugh. “I’m a highly skilled individual. My boyfriend taught me self-defense–I’m not going down without a fight.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he responded, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. You sighed in defeat when he took a step away, his hands moving deftly to his cowl and pulling it over his head. “Gotta go. Spoiler wants backup before she proceeds with her case.”

You smile warmly, hiding the disappointment as best you can. “She’s lucky to have you watching her back.”

Tim hesitated for a moment as he backed towards your bedroom window, staff in hand. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I know. Stay safe,” you answered with a reassuring smile. He returned the expression as he slid the window open and planted one foot on the ledge outside. He nodded curtly in response.

Tim didn’t linger. The faster he could get this done, the faster he could return to the warmth of your apartment and enjoy his weekend off.

[starheavenly]

hiii!!! loving your locket comics!!!!!! just wanted to ask a few questions about your process, if you dont mind :D

whats your general process like?

do you do thumbnails, how do they look like?

roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

how detailed are your sketches? do you do multiple?

do you have any specific techniques for lineart?

do you typically use references for your comics?

generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

do you have any advice for drawing comics?

sorry for for the absolute bombardment of questions, lmao. just really enjoy your art and comics and very interested in the behind the scenes!! feel free to skip any questions (or this whole ask) well wishes and salutations!!! :D

Hello! I'm so glad you enjoy my comics, and I totally don't mind breaking down the process!

For a normal comic page, I would likely actually write a script since it's much easier to keep track of dialogue and actions. But since these are short, I just write it into my thumbnails.

Step 1: Thumbnails. Easily one of my favorite parts, since I get to throw all my ideas down. I do these comics on a 2-panel grid, so I don't have to worry about actual paneling, and it allows me to focus more on the setup of each shot. Think of it like storyboarding!

Step 2: Add cleaner thumbs if needed. I actually made 3D models of Deadlock and Ratchet's chest in Blockbench, so I often trace them to save myself some time! (It might look insane, but I promise, for me, it's not.)

Step 3: Lettering! I actually like to get the lettering out of the way right away since it can take a while. Ever since I started treating lettering as its own form of art, my skills have gotten better, but it also takes much longer.

Step 4: Clean sketch! I'm just now finding out that people think I’m doing lineart for these? I am not… these are all just clean sketches. Maybe doing the blackwork gives the illusion of lineart?

Step 5: Color! Most of these comics are in black and white to save time, but it also lets me focus on values and shot framing again. I add my glow overlay to the eyes, and boom, done!

Roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

It really depends on how complicated the panels are. I like to step out of my comfort zone. I know the Grimlock and Misfire one took longer because of how many panels there were and the fact that I was drawing characters I’d never drawn before, but I’d say it usually takes around 5-8 hours for a whole page.

Do you typically use references for your comics?

I'm literally the reference GOD- we all know this. But yes, I love using references and doing character studies. I have yet to do a study on LL Drift, but I have a few references of him that I’ve made.

Generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

I mean, I wouldn't say I don't put in a lot of effort? I put in enough. I don't know… there's a point in the clean sketch process where you can kind of just turn off your brain. I'm passionate about comics, but we can all agree there's a point in a drawing where you just zone out.

Do you have any advice for drawing comics?

I think being able to balance dialogue and visuals is super important. I don't know if you guys have picked up a graphic novel from Barnes & Noble recently, but if you open a page, you'll see a character sitting with the biggest bubble you've ever seen, filled with paragraphs of text. While I get it—being a novel as much as it's graphic—I personally like to visualize emotions more. If it means adding two more panels to make an interesting dialogue setup, I don't mind doing it. Another thing to remember is that not all panels need to have details or 100% effort. Sometimes you need to simplify and move on, and that's okay! Those two extra panels that are giving you a better stage setup might be the ones that need fewer details and less time. I would consider my comic page work and my 4-panel work very different. One is about paneling, setup, and visuals, while the other is very much like storyboarding. Both are skills you learn with practice and study.

[kittenwriter]

Cure narratives: when fiction depicts a disability being cured. Because no one on the internet has nuance, it wound up getting overwhelmingly presented as "you should never depict curing disabilities because that's ableist." This rested on the fact that for neurodivergence-type disabilities, "curing" the disability means fundamentally changing the person; you're born neurodivergent and it's an integral part of who you are. (And also this slides really, really easily into eugenics.)

But disability is a broad umbrella! Even with the social model of disability (and if you want a beautiful fictional examination of the social model, look up The Fledging of Az Gabrielson; the author thought through every detail of what it would mean to not have wings in a world where everyone has wings), chronic pain is disabling no matter how well society accommodates it. The vast majority of people with chronic pain would like to not have chronic pain.

There are also some things that exist on a spectrum. I'm not qualified to give an expansive discourse on Deaf culture, but there is a schism between the people who are culturally Deaf and see that as worth preserving and the oralists who lean into cochlear implants and seeking to eliminate it. (For that matter, while it's highly taboo to talk about it and I don't think it's common, neurodivergent people who want a cure do exist. I'm not going to get into all the complications and controversies of John Elder Robison because that's an essay in itself, but look at his book Switched On for something adjacent to that perspective.)

So you wind up with a lengthy set of discussions about what is and isn't acceptable to depict-- and it's a lot like every other diversity discussion in that market-level generalizations wind up getting held against individual authors. It's a problem if every depiction of disability shows cures (and then you get the related things like the "not really blind" trope where you have characters who are supposedly blind but magic or technology allows them to function as though they weren't with no problems)-- but that got turned into (because no one on the internet has nuance) "you should never depict cures and if you do you're ableist," which in turn sparked backlash from the people for whom the cure narrative is wish fulfillment. (I have myself joked about being a Bad Disabled because my own desires as regards cure do not align with the "You must be proud of your ENTIRE DISABILITY" narrative.)

There's also the fact that even among the wish-fulfillment people, sometimes you want to read about someone who is suffering what you're suffering the way you're suffering it without it being magically cured at the end! Or what's desired is fantasy assistance devices that function like actual assistance devices in that they have drawbacks and trade-offs and assist without making the character functionally not disabled.

So I feel like the people in anon's fandoms probably got into the "it is ableist to depict cures" thing with the same level of nuance typical of People On The Internet (which is to say, none) and then mangled it even farther. There's probably also some influence here from a related conversation, that of using fantasy substitutes instead of giving your character real-life actual disabilities, but again, that's a spectrum and depends a lot on how well you do it, and I see it happening more frequently with people wanting to write Stereotype Neurodivergence without considering whether it has any resemblance to actual neurodivergence than I see it with physical disabilities. (See also Sheldon Cooper.)

So now that we've gotten to the end of my essay (this is probably a bit more than you thought you were getting when you asked the question), further reading if you're still so inclined:

"The Trope of Curing Disability" at Disability in Kid Lit

"Disability Tropes 101: The Magical Cure" at Dis(abled) Embodiment

Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare

The Disability Visibility Project

"The Complexities of Curing Disabilities" by Emily Ladeau

And finally, a bunch of people having a conversation on Reddit.

(And now we have proved once again that you can take the girl out of the library but you can't take the librarian out of the girl.)

Tagging question! In canon, a character has a magic-induced health problem. Basically, every so often, he has days moving his back in any way causes staggering amounts of pain and he has severe fatigue. He can't get upright under his own power during severe episodes. Painkillers do not work. The frequency of episodes starts off once every few months but by this point in canon has become a once or twice a week problem. It can hit right out of nowhere even if he was fine all day today or he can wake up with it.

Fandom wank being what it is, people keep insisting to me that this is not a disability. I tagged the fic with Disabled Character because since he's the main character of the fic and this... look, I'm not disabled? I could be wrong. But to me this feels like a disability. If I met someone with this IRL with a non-magical cause I would go, "I 100% believe this qualifies as a disability" without question. But oh, wow. The fandom does NOT agree with me on this. I've gotten several annoyed remarks by people informing me that this is belittling the pain actual disabled people have because disabilities, unlike curses, can't be lifted. And I can see that there's a difference. Thing is, he can't canonically afford to pay to have the curse lifted. He's stuck with it.

Because every single person in this conversation is abled, though, I feel like they're not who I should be listening to. OTNF, I know your readership includes disabled people. Do you/they have any suggestions? Does he qualify as disabled, or am I too attached to my headcanon-y idea of him as being a metaphor for disability?

--

I don't think that's a metaphor. I think that's a canonically (magically) disabled character.

What say you, readers?

[lotusarchon]

hiii! I was wondering if I could request MK having a crush on his coworker?? For example like- Reader works as a waiter in pigsys and Mk admires them a little too much

Can you make it spicy too in a way?? Sorry if that sounds demanding 😭😭

Yhank you!! Have a nice day<333

waiter, waiter! one serving of my heart, please (mk x reader)

content warnings: gender neutral reader, second pov (you/your), reader and Pigsy's relationship is strictly professional/no solid relationships between them, mk is in love

author's notes: twas a bit hesitant to write this cause it kinda reminded me of an asshole i once met in my older server bleghhhhh :< also sorry, i couldn't make it spicy agh

MK remembered when you first walk through the door. It was another Tuesday afternoon, bored out of his mind after another day of delivering noodles and saving the city. He'd only just returned, filling in Tang about the demons he came across while Pigsy made something in the kitchen.

And you were there. A bit dull-eyed compared to what MK remembered, but still wearing that smile he'd grown so fond of. You'd raised your hand in greeting, asking for the owner of the establishment you'd enter.

He remembered being too dazed to really focus on the conversation. All he knew was that he'd call for Pigsy, then spent the next hour or so watching you from a corner. It wasn't until you had taken your leave did he realize to ask, and he turned to Pigsy for answers.

“Oh, don't look at me like that.” Pigsy had sighed, sliding a bowl of freshly cooked noodles towards him. “You've been busier than ever with your training. And since we don't want a repeat of last time―” Last time meaning the clone incident. He still couldn't get over obese Delivery Clone trying to eat Pigsy… “―I figured a helping hand around here would do the trick.”

MK pretended to pout. “So you're replacing me?”

“No, dumbass.” Pigsy threw a wet cloth at Tang. It landed with ease, and the scholar whined. “Just that you don't have to stress too much about not doing enough around here. (Name)’ll work in your free time, and you theirs.”

It didn't seem like too bad of an arrangement. There were days he couldn't be around, swamped with training or some monster that wouldn't leave the city alone, and Pigsy would need an extra hand to help around. He could've asked Mei though, but he figured that the pig demon also wanted to offer employment to anyone in need of it.

It's just that, while MK had eaten his noodles and stared through the window to past the time, he really thought you were interesting, and the plans Pigsy had meant that, most likely, neither of you would get to speak together.

And that sucked. Because, once MK had the idea (and mere audacity, to quote a certain hot tempered bull prince) of befriending someone, not even the Buddha could pry the thought from his head.

Which in turn, lead to certain events, as of now. Hanging around during his own breaks to catch a mere glimpse of you, trying to play off the ‘cool’ hero act only to have his own staff knock him over in the process, god awful flirting attempts (seriously, those lines were bad bad), to name a few of the things he'd done. That wasn't even mentioning the times he accidentally held you up during rush hour, earning a scolding from Pigsy and customers that were completely rude to you and made MK feel so guilty in the aftermath.

With that last one, you'd think that such behavior would be enough to put anyone off. No sane adult liked getting yelled at for actions that weren't their fault, especially from their boss.

By the gods, you were a literal saint. And MK would be damn well lying if he said he wasn't head over heels in love, and that was saying something.

But, no. You still smiled at MK every morning when clocking in for work, and you still laughed at his bad jokes and horrible flirting lines. The rare off chance you two spoke, you were always so nice, not even bringing up the fact he'd gotten you into so much trouble over and over again.

“You're going on your lunch break?” He asked, waiting outside for you to show your face once again. Today had been his day off, but with Mei busy and the city surprisingly peaceful for the time, what better way to spend it than with you?

The question was a bit…too obvious, honestly. Of course you'd be going on your lunch break at this hour, how would he not know when he worked for Pigsy at the same time?? Plus, it's not like he hadn't hassled Pigsy before about your work hours and the time you'd take your breaks so…

You raised your head and glanced at him, nodding slightly. “Yes. Would you like to join me?”

In his head, MK was jumping for joy. He had been planning on asking you if he should join, but then you went right ahead and invited him first. This was progress at its finest, and MK was nabbing at this opportunity faster than lightning.

Just as quickly, he responded, “I mean, if you wouldn't mind me, I don't mind! Like, if you want me, haha….”

He could imagine Mei looking down at him in disappointment. <Seriously, confidence is key. You're the Monkie Kid, what do you have to be worried about!?

That was easy for her to say! She was always cool, unlike MK who'd embarassing himself in front of you so many times….

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized you'd stopped walking until he nearly tripped over a table. You had the kindness to grab at him before he fell, offering your sweet, signature smile while he took a seat, nervously laughing.

“So….”

“So…”

How awkward. MK played with his sleeves, watching you pop open a box of noodles from Pigsy and eat. How the fuck do you even start conversations again?

As if you read his mind, you raised your head and gave him another smile. How he wished he had a notebook and pen around, if only to sketch you with such a peaceful expression.

“You can speak, if you'd like,” you said assuringly, picking up a mushroom from your bowl. MK was never a fan of vegetables, but watching you stick it into your mouth made him wonder if he should try eating some. “I'll listen. ‘kay?”

So thoughtful. “O..okay…”

And boy did MK speak. He chattered endlessly about anything that came to mind, gauging how you reacted carefully. Sometimes, you'd finish chewing to comment or too, other times, your expression would change with whatever he was talking about, nodding along in agreement with his peeves and then shaking your head when someone else supposedly did him wrong.

At some point, he'd completely trailed off topic, staring at your lips wrapped around your chopstick. He was technically still yapping, except that now―

“What did you just say?”

He blinked.

What…..what had he been talking just now? Was it something that upsetted you!? Fuck, he's such an idiot, allowing his mouth to blabber―

“You…like me?”

….

…

MK stood to bolt.

It turned out you were a lot faster than you gave him credit for. You had already grabbed him by the collar, yanking him backwards and onto the seat―this time, next to you.

“MK.”

Dear god, he wanted to disappear. Why hadn't Monkey King taught him one of his 72 transformations?? Fleeing from this situation would be a whole lot faster….

“MK.” You repeated his name, turning his head to look at you. “I heard you, you know.”

MK sighed. “Listen, I'm so sorry―”

“Why? Who said I didn't like you too?”

“―like, I know, I know, you're not here for relationships or any of that sort, and I shouldn't―what did you just say?”

You smiled slightly. “I said, I like you too.”

“Oh.”

“...”

“...”

And then MK fainted.

“MK? Are you alright?”

@lotusarchon , 28.11.2024, all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[daughterofscotland]

Decisions and Bubble Baths

After months and months I finally managed to write a little snippet of a BuckTommy fix it fic recently... and today I finished it at almost 2k.

Go me! AO3 Link: Decisions and Bubble Baths

Pairing: BuckTommy

Tags: Light NON-SEXUAL BDSM, hopeful ending

Summary: After their break up, both Buck and Tommy realize that their dynamic outside of the bedroom has some long-term consequences. Eddie realizes they need some help to fix it.

***

Buck didn't know what to wear. He was supposed to get dressed for a dinner with the team - not like their old cook outs, since Bobby and Athena still hadn't found a new place (or build a new one, he wasn't sure), but at a restaurant. Eddie was going to pick him up, saying he didn't want to drink anyway, and Buck... Buck didn't know what to wear.

***

It's not like they had planned it, this dynamic between them. But on their sixth date Buck couldn't decide what to wear, almost making them late, and Tommy had confidently grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt, and over-shirt, handed it to Buck, and said. "You're going to wear these." Buck hadn't argued, his head suddenly silent, as the decision was taken from him, and gotten dressed. They hadn't talked about it. But then it happened again, when Buck couldn't decide on what to order at a new ice cream shop. Tommy had simply turned to the girl behind the counter, ordered for them both, and Buck hadn't argued. And it happened again in the grocery store, when Buck couldn't decide on a wine. Then they talked about it. Tommy insisted on research (Buck might have had to blow him about it) about clear communication and boundaries. They had already played around in bed, had discovered early on that their kinks matched well. But "daddy" and "baby boy" were for sex. Neither of them wanted to move it out of the bedroom.

So Tommy became "sir" whenever Buck needed help to make a decision. A firm, grounding hand on his neck when he spiraled or got so excited about whatever he was talking about, he became faster and faster and couldn't stop himself. Buck was "sweetheart" whenever Tommy needed calm, needed to be worshiped, needed to be treated like he was precious. Buck always wanted Tommy to feel that way, but Tommy had trouble allowing himself the comfort. At some point, Tommy had created a virtual wardrobe for Buck, with clothes made from his actual wardrobe, for days he wasn't on shift. He planned outfits a month in advance, so Buck wouldn't be paralyzed by a decision while Tommy wasn't there. In return, Buck had put at least one moment of "treatment" a week into Tommy's calendar: a bubble bath, a massage, a special meal. It worked for them and made them happy.

But now it had been a month since Tommy had walked out of Buck's life, with no word since. He'd spent a month baking to try to not think about Tommy, to keep from calling him, had ignored the way he'd started to get jittery and always felt cold and restless, how he kept looking to his side to share a joke or a fact he learned, just to find the space next to him empty. And now the virtual wardrobe was empty. Buck had used the last pre-coordinated clothes and now he sat before his actual wardrobe, unable to choose a simple outfit.

This was how Eddie found him.

Eddie didn't know what kind of dynamic Buck and Tommy had going on - neither did he want to - but he knew there was something. Buck was... calmer. More thoughtful, less impulsive. He still talked a lot, but when they were out together, Eddie saw the way Tommy put his hand on Buck's neck when he got lost in his spirals, how he squeezed, and calmed Buck down that way. The first time Hen noticed Buck's clothing style had changed and Buck blushed and said "Tommy picked it out for me", Eddie knew he didn't just mean something like Tommy buying him clothes.

So after the breakup, when nothing changed too much - except the excessive baking - Eddie thought: Okay, it's fine, he'll be alright. Should he have played keep-away with his phone with Hen? Probably not. But he also didn't want Buck to get hurt again, and he thought not contacting Tommy would make it easier for him. But then something changed. Buck became more restless. A bit more unkempt. He kept looking to the side when he was talking and then he just trailed off, looking lost. It was like he was always somehow out of sync with himself. And then there was Tommy. Eddie messaged him after the break up, telling him he was an idiot, but he would still be Eddie's friend and better show up to their next basketball game. Eddie didn't mention the break up then. They didn't talk about Buck at all, actually. He noticed Tommy looked like he didn't sleep well, of course, and he didn't talk much - but Tommy was always a bit more quiet, so it wasn't too much of a change. But the few times Eddie visited him to work on the car, he noticed the garage getting kind of... cluttered. Dirty. And that was certainly unusual. So was Tommy shying away from every touch, and looking increasingly tense. And now here Buck was, sitting on his bed, staring at his wardrobe, a lost look in his eyes. Unable to choose clothing for himself.

Clearly, Eddie had underestimated something about their dynamic, and it needed to be fixed. He went to the balcony and even shut the door for good measure, before he called Tommy. Not that he expected Buck to hear anything from him even if he were to stand right next to him, but still.

"'lo?" "Shit, man, were you asleep? Sorry, I didn't think you'd be on shift." "No, no, it's fine," came Tommy's voice, gravely, and accompanied by a yawn. "I wasn't... just taking a nap..." "Okay, good, because this is important, and I need you to be awake." "What? What's going on?" Tommy sounded more alert immediately. "Look, man, I don't know what kind of stuff you and Buck got up to, but clearly your breakup has some long-lasting ramifications." Eddie listened to the way Tommy's breathing sped up, clearly worried if not panicked. "We're supposed to go to a restaurant with the team but he's up there, in his loft, almost catatonic, because he doesn't know what to wear. He literally can't choose his own clothes, man. How the fuck did that happen?" There was silence on the other end and Eddie felt himself getting angry. "I swear to god, Tommy, if you hang up on me -" "I am not," Tommy assured him, a slight wobble in his voice. "I'm not... I... god, I fucked up so badly." "Yeah, well, we all know that, mostly due to the pounds we have put on eating all of Buck's "I am not allowed to call him so I am baking" loaves. I know you aren't doing any better, either. So, whatever reason you had to break up, fine, you figure that out on your own time. But clearly this is about more than just your romantic relationship." "Yeah... yeah it's... it is," Tommy agreed, swallowing hard. "I don't... okay. I can... I think I can help, but you'll need to give Ev- Buck the phone, alright?" "Don't call him that, Tommy," Eddie said quietly. "I am pretty sure that makes it worse." "Yeah. Yeah, okay." "I'll put you on speaker and next to him on the bed. Then I will go back outside to the balcony, so give me a minute before you do whatever you want to do. I don't want to hear it."

***

"Evan? Evan, can you hear me?" Tommy. That was Tommy's voice, sounding tinny and far away. Buck blinked and looked around, his eyes falling on the phone next to him. "Tommy?" he asked, coughed and cleared his throat. Picking up the phone, he tried again. "Tommy?" "Not quite. Eddie told me you need some help?" And just like that, something in Buck calmed down. But at the same time he could feel his eyes starting to hurt from unshed tears. "I... Sir. Please. I, I don't... what do I wear?" There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line but Tommy's voice was completely calm as he answered. "That's okay, Evan. I'll help you. Where are you going tonight?" Buck thought for a moment. "Uhm, a restaurant, with the team. Mongolian, I think." "Okay, that's good, Evan. Do you have those dark-washed jeans you bought in Anaheim?" Buck looked around and found them on the ground in front of his clothes. "Yeah, I do." "Alright. Those, with that royal blue shirt you bought two months ago. It's probably gonna be warm at the restaurant, so no need for an over-shirt, but wear your black jacket for the trip. And the black boots. Okay?" "Yeah. Yes, sir. I got it. Thank you." Buck was already getting dressed, having put the phone on the bed again. "Of course, I am glad I could help, Evan."

Buck swallowed. He... he was glad Tommy didn't call him Buck again, but his voice still sounded off. Not quite like himself. Buck took a deep breath. He never had switched this fast, but he needed to do this right now. "You really did help," he assured the other man. "But what about you? Do you need help, too, Tommy?" There was silence on the other end and Buck worried he had gone too far, that Tommy had hung up. But then there was a slightly wobbly sounding breath, a cracked voice answering him. "I... yes, I... I think I do, sweetheart." "Okay, Tommy," Buck said, sitting back down and putting the phone to his ear. "That's okay. Do you... do you still have my key?" "Yeah. Yes, I do. Sorry, I wanted to give it to Eddie, but I just couldn't -" "Hey, hey, don't worry about that, it's okay," Buck assured him. Tommy sounded a bit frantic, definitely not as calm as he'd been before. He was just as lost as Buck had been. "Why don't you come over here, hm? I still have those bath salts you like, and your bubble bath. Come here, take a nice long bath, and then take a nap in my bed until I come back. Okay? I won't be out too long. Or, if you want, I will stay home and wait for you." Another silence that was broken by an almost sob. "No, you... you go. Enjoy your dinner. I'll... I'll do what you said, sweetheart." "Yeah?" Buck asked, a small smile on his face. "You will be here when I come home, Tommy? And I can see what else you need?" "Yes, I will," Tommy assured him, his voice more steady now. "You won't be long?" "Three hours, tops," Buck promised him, already mapping the route in his head, how much time he would have to eat before he had to leave the restaurant again. "You'll be okay, baby." "Yeah. You, too, sweetheart. I promise."

Buck swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. This wasn't a solution, just a temporary band-aid for both their pain. They would have to talk, really talk, to see where to go from here. But for now, he hung up the phone, shoved all his clothes in the closet, and went downstairs to prepare a few cookies and a piece of lemon loaf on a covered plate, with a glass of water, putting it in his bathroom for Tommy to enjoy during his bath. Eddie didn't interrupt him and only squeezed his shoulder once before they left, Buck leaving the light on before locking the door behind himself, so Tommy would be reminded that he was expected. That he was wanted. It would have to be enough for now.

[naanima]

I needddd Max reaction! I NEED HIM TO GO FERAL ABOUT IT

This is part 2. Part 1 is here.

YES. HE WOULD. Max receiving the message of Daniel and his new back tattoo.

Not beta'd. Gods, this is so NOT edited in any way shape or form. But I wrote this in a half dazed frenzy. I'll post a proper copy of this and the first part as one whole fic sometime in the next few days on ao3. Thanks for being equally feral as me guys!

EXPLICIT: There's wanking and sex. Sort of.

1.48k words. I wrote over 2k words today. I am done. Probably tapped out writing wise for the next two to three days. Lols.

"MAAAX!" An arm went around his neck and a wet kiss missed his cheek, and was instead plastered across his head. More people joined and Max was pulled out into the heaving mass of people dancing to the club music.

Max was so happy, he was also so drunk, but he was so fucking happy. Every win was of course important. But this one, this one was so important, this year has been shit. The fucking worst. The car is shit, the people who had won with him, the ones he thought would be always with him had left, gone to the competition. He had thought he had finally gotten Daniel back, after years of not having him. That they were finally at a point in their lives that they could get their shit together and make it work. But that had been snatched away.

And he understood why Daniel couldn't stay, why he had to leave. Max wasn't a teenager anymore, he understood that F1 wasn't always fair. It was shit.At least Daniel had visited him in Monaco. At least he the past two years had allowed them to be together more often then they had.

Winning the WDC made it, not exactly worth it, but it made things easier to accept. Made it bearable.

He threw back his gin and tonic, and a full glass of gin and tonic was placed into his hand. He laughed, drank it all, passed the empty glass to whomever was closest, and jumped into the mass of people all celebrating his win. Their combined efforts gave Max the opportunity to win.

He didn't know how long he danced for, pulled in by people who wanted to hug him, kiss him on the cheek, tell him they loved him, then he was passed along to the next person, rinse and repeat. Max was so happy, Max wished Daniel was here with him, wished it was Daniel pulling him in to kiss him on the cheeks, maybe to miss and then they would end up kissing on the mouth. Daniel was so strong now, he would be able to lift him off the floor for a hug, and maybe Max could wrap his legs around his waist, and then - fuck, he needed to stop. He was so hot, and the air felt like thick molasses, and Max was a bit dizzy, and fuck he needed to take a piss.

He stumbled his way to the bathroom, avoided outstretched hands with a laugh, and told people, "I need to piss."

His phone buzzed as he was washing his hands at the sink. He looked down and saw Daniel’s name flash across the top of the screen. It didn't show the content, something he had set up so that he could have some privacy from fans, the media and the paparazzi.

He had received so many messages, from almost everyone in his life, but he hadn't received anything from Daniel yet. He knew he was in America, most likely in LA. But he had not received anything from Daniel.

But now Daniel was texting him, and Max could feel his heart beating faster. He was worried, not seriously, but he was a little concerned. But it was okay now because Daniel was messaging him, probably so that could congratulate him like had for every win he has had.

Max unlocked his phone and opened his messages, pulling up his message thread with Daniel. He didn't know what he was seeing at first. Didn't know why Daniel had sent him a picture of a naked man, but then everything clicked, the curls, the tattoos on the thigh, the muscled back and the ass that Max had dreamed about as a teenager, fuck, had dreamed about as an adult.

Shit, did Daniel send this by mistake, was it meant for someone else? Fuck that fucking person. God, Daniel looked so good, Max wanted to touch every bit of the exposed skin. And then Max took in Daniel's lower back, something gold and black on red skin just above his ass. And Max had to zoom in, squinted his eyes to look, and when it finally became apparent, Max’s hand tightened around his phone and a deep guttural groan escaped his lips.

And oh my fucking god. He was suddenly so hard, a whiskey dick apparently not making an impact at all in the face of a naked Daniel Riccardo. A Daniel Ricciardo who had branded himself with Max's name right above his ass, and what the fuck was Max meant to do with that. His brain felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt like it was too small for his needs, he was sweating, and he suddenly felt like he was starving. A deep ache that needed to be filled, felt as if it could consume him if he let it. Fuck. Max needed to come right now.

He made his way into one of the cubicles, locked the door and sat on top of the closed toilet. He had to hold his phone under his chin as he used both of his hands to unzip himself, to pull his pants off so that he could reach his dick. And gods it felt so fucking good, his pre-come overflowing across his hands, running down his dick.

He used his right hand to hold the phone up so that he could see Daniel's naked back, so that he could see his initials, his wins, his fucking brand on Daniel. His left hand formed a tight wet channel around his cock as he fucked into it. He kept on looking at the tattoo, thought about tracing his name in gold with his fingers, thought about kissing it, licking it with his tongue, biting into it until he left his teeth marks on top of it. His hands pressing into it as he went down the curve of Daniel's ass. His mouth and tongue licking downwards till he reached Daniel's tight hole. He could bring so much pleasure to Daniel, could make him squirm and moan, shake and cry like a mindless drooling toy, could make him come on his tongue as he held him down by his hips.

He could fuck slowly into Daniel using just his spit and his pre-come, his dick buried deep, and then slowly pull out as Daniel’s body tried to hold him in, all the while watching Daniel's lower back, his name tattooed onto smooth skin. Daniel had branded himself for Max. Had made himself his, and Max wanted Daniel here, he wanted to suck Daniel's dick, push his face into his pubes, wanted to come over Daniel's back, his come all over his name in gold and black ink. He could lick his own come off Daniel's back afterwards, could push his own come into Daniel’s red used hole, and - fuck, his body tensed all over, his brain whited out, and he came with a long deep moan, and he might have blakced out for a split second. When he came back into himself, his come was cooling all over his hand and he could feel some on his chin.

His pants were half off his ass, and his spent dick was out in the open air. But he didn't really care, he felt relaxed and saited. His phone was still held tightly in his hand, the screen black now. And he realised that he hadn't responded to Daniel. He unlocked his phone, looked at the picture of Daniel, felt his dick twitch, didn't think, just snapped a photo of his spent and sent it to Daniel.

Halfway to pulling his pants up a thought struck him, and he unlocked his phone again to google for an answer. He almost threw his phone against the cubicle’s wall. Barely contained himself from screaming in frustration as he sent a message to Daniel.

TO DANIEL: Daniel, a tattoo can take up to 8 weeks to heal!?

Fuck this shit. He had waited for nearly a decade for a sign from Daniel that he would be interested. And now that he has got his answer it was going to take eight fucking weeks before he could lick, bite and fucking push his hands into the gold of his name on Daniel's back. Fuck this shit.

Max Verstappen was a four times world champion. He played to win, took the gap no matter how small if it meant he could win it all. Daniel had given him a free and open invite for the rest of his life, and Max was not going to let Daniel have a chance to ever doubt his decision to make him Max’s.

TO DANIEL: Daniel. This means you are mine now, and it is of course only fair if you know I am yours. I always wanted a tattoo, and “3” is my favourite number.

[lillaydee]

One More Try Part 2

Landlord Joel Miller / Reader

They say a woman is tested when her man has nothing. But a man is tested when he has everything. What happens if you both passed the test, but your partners did not?

WARNINGS:

Unplanned Pregnancy, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), SO MUCH FLUFF, Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Reader was pregnant before meeting Joel, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Miscarriage (Not OC), Landlord Joel, No Outbreak AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 1

---

Joel knocked on your door one Friday night about two weeks after you first moved in, quite aggressively, too, you thought. You opened the door, still in the clothes you were wearing to campus, a box of Chinese in your hand. He held up a cheque that you had slipped under his door on your way up. You had finally gotten your bank account sorted and got your first weekly pay as Frank’s RA, so you wrote a cheque as first payment for the medical bill he paid for you. You had budgeted it properly. If you clocked in eight hours a day for work and paid him half your weekly pay every Friday, you would finish paying him in four months. You could still do your dissertation work after that and on the weekends.

Damn he looked good. He was all dressed up. His usual t shirt swapped with a flannel, his usual light jeans swapped for a darker pair that looked newer, his hair styled a bit and combed neatly, and was he wearing cologne? You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. You leaned against the door and joked,

“Wow Miller, you look good. Hot date?”

He flushed, slightly, but ignored your question. “What the hell is this?” he asked instead, waving the cheque in your face.

“It’s a cheque,” you answered, “You cash it at the bank for money.”

“I’m aware miss Smarty Pants, but what is it for?”

“Well… I have to start paying you back. For the hospital bill.”

“Did I ask you to pay me back?”

“No… but I got my first pay today, so I’m paying you back.”

He took a deep, controlled breath and tore the cheque before depositing it in the trash can beside your door, telling you to keep your money.

“Hey! What was that for?” you asked, a little bit annoyed.

“Keep it. For the baby. Don’t even think of paying me back.”

“Joel… I can’t…” but he held his hand up.

“Not taking no for an answer. I said keep it,” and walked away.

You went to the window in the corridor, watching him get in his truck and drive away. You didn’t know why, but you felt a bit deflated. Was it because he refused to accept your money? Or because you didn’t see him as often as you thought you would? After he went with the group to talk to Max, he came to your place once to fix your window, but Maria was there so you two didn’t talk much. You didn’t see him around much after that, you only got home after it’s dark, and left early in the mornings. You needed to, to fit in the eight working hours and still get a few hours of work done on your doctorate. He lived right below you, and yet you never saw him. And now, the first time you saw him in ten-ish days, he was dressed up, smelling so good and looking so delicious you could eat him alive. You heaved a sigh you didn’t know you needed to release. It had to have been a date, right? Men looking like Joel Miller do not sit around at home on Friday nights. They go out for single, non-pregnant ladies to flock around and swoon over.

You went back inside when his truck drove out of sight. He won’t take your cheque. Fine, you’ll just write him another one. You finished eating and got your laptop out. Time to do some work.

You woke up just after dawn broke that Saturday, your neck stiff from doing your work hunched over the coffee table. You needed to buy a proper desk if you were going to do your work at home, but that’s a bit beyond your budget right now. So, you quickly showered and left for the campus, your laptop bag on your shoulders, your trusted sling bag crossed over your body, a piece of plain toast in your hand for your breakfast. Joel’s truck wasn’t where it usually was. Of course he didn’t come home. Men looking like Joel Miller do not come straight home after a date, what stupid self-controlled women would let men looking like Joel Miller go home after a date? Your feet suddenly felt a bit heavy, trudging along to begin your few miles hike to campus. Your apartment was just outside the compound, but the campus was huge. You stayed in your study room all day, eating ramen and an apple for lunch. When you got home after sundown, his truck was still not there.

For the first time in years, you had no one to wait for. No one to call and check if they’re okay, or if they’re coming home for dinner. No one to wake up to when they come home late. It’s just you now. It’s only been two weeks, you thought. This was normal. You needed time to adjust to being alone again. You had ramen again that night, knowing that you probably needed to eat healthier stuff, but you didn’t have the energy to cook, not that you had anything to cook in your small kitchen. You had been surviving on cafeteria food and takeout, and whatever bits of groceries you could buy from the small store on campus. You thought about going to the farmer’s market the next day, but the thought just made you tired. You were simply not ready.

You decided to go to campus again that Sunday. If you were going to graduate on time, you needed to get your act together. You didn’t have time to mourn your relationship with a man who left you as if you hadn’t been supporting his hopes and dreams for the past ten years, you had your own future to think about. One where you would be a single mother, so you needed to complete this dissertation as fast as you could, while working as much as you could, so that you can make enough money to prepare for the baby’s arrival, and get a reliable, full-time job to support them and give them anything they needed growing up.

When you left for campus that Sunday morning, Joel was still not home, not that you were checking, or knocking on his door while you were slipping a newly written cheque under his door. But his truck was not out front, not that you were looking for it. You spent the entirety of your walk to campus wondering why you cared. Was it because he looked out for you even before he knew you? It had to be, no way you felt a certain way about him, right? If you did, and that was a big IF, it must be because you were feeling vulnerable. You couldn’t really be catching feelings for some man you just met two days after you got dumped, right? Plus, even IF you were indeed feeling that way, the man couldn’t possibly be available. He was out the whole weekend – he must have a girlfriend or something. One that he spends his weekends with. Yeah. That’s it. That’s where he was. So, get him out of your head, you pathetic, dumped, single pregnant lady. No need to imprint on the first man who was nice to you.

When you left for work on Monday, his truck was finally back. He must’ve come back late Sunday night; it wasn’t there when you arrived after spending more than 12 hours on campus. You felt great that day. No nausea at all, for some reason. Maria stayed with you after work for dinner, but you declined her offer to drive you home, thinking that you should get some more work done while you were feeling great. You promised her you would get an Uber to go home. But of course, you didn’t. You could walk the distance. You need exercise anyway. When you got home, Joel was standing outside the apartment building, his arms crossed across his chest.

“Did you just get back?” he asked. His eyes scanned the road. “Did you walk?”

“Erm… no… I went out for groceries. I took an Uber.”

“You don’t have any groceries with you, and I literally just saw you walk down the street.”

“What were you doing out here at this time?”

“I was taking the trash out, throwing some cheque someone kept writing for me when I specifically told her not to. Also, I am perfectly safe within the vicinity of my apartment, and not walking alone and pregnant in the dark,” he said.

“Joel, you have to take the money okay. Please cash my cheque. I can’t be relying on you like this,” you pleaded, ignoring his other statement.

“Have you been walking home alone at night all this while?” and… he ignored you right back.

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, opening the door for you to get in. He walked you up and shut the door behind you when you walked into the safety of your apartment without saying another word.

The next day, after work, you were planning to go up to the study, when a wave of nausea hit you out of nowhere. Maria, concerned, offered to drive you home. But you told her that you couldn’t – the nausea will go away, you hadn’t been hit with it full on yet, so far. You had to use the study, you said. The coffee table was too low, and the kitchen counter was too high and too narrow for you to do your work comfortably. Okay, she said, let’s go to Ikea then, get you a proper study table. You kept quiet and shook your head, no. You paid for the study room; you are going to use it. You didn’t need to worry your best friend with your financial woes. Sure, the small settlement Max gave you had helped ease the burden off a few things, but you didn’t see why you needed to spend money you could save for the baby on a desk you didn’t really need, when you had the option of using the one at the room you paid for. So, you went upstairs, had a little nap in your chair, and did your work for a few hours, Maria having left only after you promised her you would Uber home if you felt too ill.

When you got to the apartment compound, your ridiculously good-looking landlord was right where he was the night before.

“Taking the trash out again Miller?” you asked playfully.

“You definitely walked,” he said. “It’s fucking far. It’s not safe,” he said.

You just rolled your eyes at him. “I’m a big girl Miller. Gonna be a mom soon, I can take care of myself.”

He rolled his eyes right back at you, silently opening the door, again, walking you up before shutting it closed behind you.

You were not at all okay on Wednesday, Frank telling Maria to drive you straight home after work, despite your many protests. She ordered food for the both of you, and you fell asleep before she even left. You had to take Thursday off, nausea hitting you full blast it woke you up. You spent the day in bed, falling in and out of sleep, running back and forth to the bathroom to empty your empty stomach further. Around lunchtime, a knock sounded at your door. You were too out of it to even get up to open it, and decided to ignore whoever it may be.

“I have a key, you know. So, you either open up, or I will open it myself,” your landlord’s voice came through.

Shit. You look around your small apartment, the full trash cans, the clothes from last night all over the place, your bags, your laptop, your plates… Shit.

“I can hear you moving around. You have one minute to open the door, or I’m coming in,” he warned.

Shit. You took the three steps from your bed to the door and opened it a smidge.

“Hi Joel.”

There he was, you handsome landlord, arms full of takeout bags and groceries.

“What’s all this?”

“A little bird told me you were too sick to work today, and that your place is woefully devoid of food. So, here I am.”

You were going to kill Maria. Tattle tale.

“You’re going to let me in?” he asked. “I promise I’m not a creep. Just trying to put my brother’s girl at ease. She’s going to kill me if I don’t help you out. So will my Mama.”

You took a deep breath and opened the door wider for him, cringing on the inside at how messy your place was. But he just shut the door with his elbow, made his way to the small kitchen before plating up some food for you, placed it in front of you at the coffee table, and told you firmly to eat. As you did, he moved about the small unit, picking this and that up, washing the dishes in the kitchen that was so small it made him look gigantic, and stored all the groceries he brought away. You didn’t even have the energy to protest, having used up all your energy to throw up all morning. You finished your food, placed the plate on the coffee table, pulled your feet up onto the loveseat and fell asleep, already feeling better than you did when he walked in.

You woke up about a few hours later in bed. How the hell did you get here? You could’ve sworn you fell asleep on the loveseat. You sat up and was immediately struck by the wonderful smell of something simmering gently on the stove, and, oh my God your apartment was spotless. All the mess you were worried about when Joel knocked were gone.

Shit. Joel. Did Joel clean up while you were sleeping? Your dirty laundry was gone... did he pick up your dirty underwear too? Oh… the horror.

The door unlocked, and Maria and Frank walked in. Both smiling at you, asking you how you were feeling.

“How did you get in? Where did you get my key?”

“Ran into your very good-looking landlord downstairs. He gave me a copy,” Frank said, his eyes naughty. “Maria called him before we left. Didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

Maria placed the key and her purse on your coffee table, looking around the place, her eyes lingering on the pot on the stove. “Well, I was going to cook you something, but I see Joel took care of that.”

Frank got a spoon and sampled a bit of whatever it was on the stove. “Damn, that man can cook! He’s a good one darling. You should keep him,” he said, winking at you.

Maria snorted, while you just threw yourself face first onto the bed again. “How are you feeling babe?” she asked, stroking your hair softly, your mumbled ‘better’ into the mattress making her smile.

Frank sat on the loveseat and told you to take the rest of the week off. No use coming to work when you can barely stand, he said. Work can wait. You kept quiet, deciding to not share your worries with him, or anyone, for that matter. He stayed for a few more minutes before leaving you and Maria alone, saying he will only see you on Monday, and only IF you were feeling better, his finger pointing at you as a warning that he was serious. There was no use protesting anyway, you could hardly get off the bed.

Maria laid in bed with you, you two watching some show on Netflix on her tablet as she waited for Tommy to pick her up. Her car was at the shop today, and she insisted on staying with you until Tommy came with dinner, wanting to make sure you eat well, at the very least. She had known you since you both started your PhD journey, and she knew how neglectful you can be about food when it came to yourself, often opting to eat whatever you could get your hands on rather than putting much effort, especially when you were feeling sick. She turned the stove off, taking the pot off the burner. She took out some disposable containers from the cabinet, and ladled the contents into them, before leaving them on the counter to cool. You just watched, feeling thankful that you would at least have something to reheat and eat the next few days, unsure if you had the energy to do anything much.

When Tommy arrived, Joel came in with him, a basket of cleaned and folded laundry in his hands, placing it on the floor next to the closet after softly nudging the door shut. The four of you ate dinner amidst mild chit chats and laughter, Joel sitting cross legged on the floor with Tommy, you and Maria on the love seat. Somehow, you felt extremely comfortable, despite not spending much time with Tommy before your breakup, and only knowing Joel for a couple of weeks. Conversation flowed smoothly, and when dinner was done, they helped you clean up, before leaving you for the night.

You hugged Tommy and Maria goodbye, and turned to Joel, who was the last to leave the unit.

“Thank you, Joel. I don’t think I can thank you enough. I am mortified you cleaned up if I’m honest. I’m not usually this messy. And you did my laundry too!! Oh God… I’ve just been… anyway, I’m so sorry to be so much trouble. Thank you again Joel.”

“It’s no trouble. We all need some help from time to time. Like I said, I’m just downstairs. If you need anything, I’m right here. Okay?” he said, taking your hand in his for a bit, gently squeezing it, before quickly letting go.

You slept hard that night, your hand still feeling the ghost of his small touch earlier. So hard, you didn’t wake up until noon on Friday. You spent the day doing some work, hoping to make some progress even if a little, despite not feeling so good. The nausea had lessened for now, thank God. But the lethargy lingered. Too tired to do anything. God, you were not even three months in yet.

You had some of the soup Joel had made for you for lunch, man oh man the man could cook. You were contemplating heating up another serving for dinner when he knocked on the door, with a bag of takeout in his hands, all dressed up, just as he was last Friday. He told you he would be out for the weekend, but he won’t be far away, so if you needed anything, just give him a call, and he will be right over, okay? He handed you the bag, the smell of Thai food invading your senses. You told him he didn’t have to do this, you could order your own food, you feel better now, but he waved you away, and shut the door behind him, but not before reminding you to call him if you needed him.

You put the bag on the counter, and suddenly just felt… tired. You picked at the food he left you, feeling a different sort of nausea than you felt the days before.

You spent the entirety of the weekend at the study, putting in as much work as you can, so that you don’t think about your landlord spending the weekend at his girlfriend’s, instead of with you.

Shit. Pregnancy had made you delusional, hadn’t it?

---

WARNING - SOME MENTIONS OF BLOOD

You spent the next week avoiding Joel, spending more time at the study after work, walking home extremely late at night. It’s not right, you thought. He had someone; you were sure of it. Why else would he spend weekends away? And here you are, a hormonal, recently dumped mess of a woman, looking at some lucky lady’s boyfriend with heart eyes, all because he was a decent enough man to help you out every now and again. It’s not right. Max left you for someone else, you were going to make sure you didn’t contribute to another woman’s heart being broken if it was the last thing you did.

You found out from Maria that he and Tommy used to run a small but successful construction business, which went belly up when a developer for a big project that hired them ran off without paying them. Luckily, Joel had purchased the apartment complex with ten units to rent out before that happened, so they had a fallback income to rely on. Tommy helped out, managing the property, fixing this and that when needed, and eventually the two opened a small workshop, taking custom furniture orders. It started doing really well too, however, they had to cut back, a lot. They were no longer making the kind of money they were making when they had the construction business. Tommy was already living with Maria, but Joel had to sell his house and move into the complex, and that’s when his…

At this, Maria shook her head and stopped talking. You were sure there was more to the story but decided that with your newfound determination to avoid the man, it was none of your business.

Not that the plan worked, he was always at the entrance every time you got home. When you got home later and later, he took a chair out, and whittled at some wood under the light of the doorway while waiting for you. You limited your interactions to small smiles and a hello, but he didn’t falter. He would still walk you up, and closed the door behind you once you were in.

You went about your life for the next month or so, going to your appointment with Tess, working, fending off morning sickness, writing your dissertation, going home. And with the exception of his weekends away, Joel would be there waiting for you to get home safe. You wrote him a cheque for your medical bill every Friday, and every time, he would return them to you, or tear them up. Either way, no money was ever deducted from your account for that. It’s exasperating. It was as if he was determined to make your life hell, if hell consisted of thirsting over your ridiculously good-looking and gentlemanly landlord who wouldn’t take the money you owed him.

By the time your pregnancy hit four months, you were becoming more and more lethargic, falling asleep if you so much as sat still for a while. You were awoken one Thursday night at your study, a very worried looking Maria and Joel looking at you as if you’d died. He had gotten worried that you hadn’t come home, called you numerous times, but your phone was on silent. So, he called Maria, who flew out of her apartment to check up on you. He drove you home that night, not saying anything, but walked you up as usual, closing the door behind you.

The next morning, he was waiting for you at his truck when you left for work. He opened the passenger door for you, silently asking you to get in. You hesitated, but he pointedly told you he would drive alongside you the whole way over if he needed to, so you got in. He buckled you up, and drove you over, not saying anything as usual. When you left the faculty building late that night, his truck was right there, him whittling away on a piece of wood at the entrance, sitting on a folded chair he had brought along with him, all dressed up as he normally would be on Friday nights.

To say you were stunned was an understatement. It was almost ten at night, what was he doing there? Had to make sure you made it home safe, he said. Can’t have you falling asleep alone in that study again now, can we? You felt horrible. He was still obviously going to his girlfriend’s place, but he was delaying it to make sure you got home safe. You kept quiet during the short drive but stopped him before he got out of the truck to walk you up.

“Joel, you don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself. I refuse to be in the way of your life. Someone’s obviously waiting for you, Joel. How would they feel knowing you were late because you were picking up your pregnant tenant?”

He looked stunned for a little bit, but then smiled and said “well, I know for a fact that she’s proud of me.”

Huh???

“Where do you think I’ve been every weekend?”

“Er… I don’t know. Your girlfriend’s place?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Oh. Fuck, why are you blushing? You can’t see blushes in the dark, right?

“So where do you go every weekend?”

“These past few weekends? I take my mom out to dinner, and then spend the weekend with her. She lives alone, about 10 minutes from here. I usually only do that once a month, but she broke her foot a few weeks ago, so I went every weekend. Tommy joins too sometimes.”

Aww… shit. Good-looking, gentlemanly and kind to his mother. What the fuck were you going to do now?

---

That Sunday you decided to skip any form of work at all. You cleaned, ordered some groceries online and went downstairs to do your laundry. Your neighbours mostly consisted of single university students, usually much younger than you, with the exception of Mrs Adler, an older lady staying there while her house was being fixed due to fire damage. She was chatting you up while you were folding, when two younger tenants came in, girls in their early twenties, wearing next to nothing, showing off their perfect bodies. They were both expressing their disappointments that a certain older man was not around that day.

“Awww… looks like I’m gonna need to break my shower on purpose…” girl one said.

“Not if mine breaks first!!” girl two interrupted, before they both erupted in good natured laughter.

You couldn’t blame them. He was a good-looking man. And if being in his mid-30s made him older then you were old too. Except, when a woman is in her mid-30s, she’s old. When a man is in his mid-30s, he’s mature, at least according to the early twenties like these two. You couldn’t help but stare at their exposed body parts, the young, cellulite free body parts with supple skin that you used to have over 10 years ago. Nowadays, whatever crash diets that worked like a charm in your early twenties no longer worked, and you being pregnant was not helping. Those bodies of theirs were but a dream of what you used to have and can never ever have again.

No wonder Max left you for a younger model. And what would Joel want with you if he had these two stalking his whereabouts wearing next to nothing?

“You know dear, Joel is a very mature man. He won’t fall for those girls, no matter how hard they try. Joel is… sensible.”

You stared at Mrs Adler. Huh? Did you think out loud or something?

“I’ve known that boy since he was two. His mama is a good friend of mine. He’s a good man. He was raised right. And I know that he has been paying attention to you my dear,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh, come on Mrs Adler, why would he want someone like me,” you pointed at your small baby bump, “instead of those hot student bodies? He’s just a man you know.”

“Darling, the way those girls talk about him, if he wanted them, he could’ve had them. All he had to do was ask. He doesn’t. I think you should give him a chance.”

“He has never asked me out or flirted with me, Mrs Adler. I think you’ve been thinking too much,” you joked, laughing to hide your blushes.

“Oh… I don’t know… his mama told me he hasn’t shut up about a certain tenant of his…” she said, winking at you. “Oh honey, I’m just messing with you,” she coaxed, seeing you blush. “But that boy is shy dear, he is not one to flirt with you outright, if he does ask, give him a chance. God knows that boy deserves a good woman… after what he’d been through…” she shook her head sadly, before going to get her stuff from the dryer.

Okay, you need to know what it was that he’d been through now. Maybe you’ll ask Maria.

---

That week, he dropped you off on campus every morning, and picked you up every night, Monday and Friday being the only exception. After the calamity that was the previous Friday night you made a point to leave by eight that Monday, worried that he might wait for you like he did then. But he wasn’t there. Although relieved, there was a small part of you that felt a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off. After Max, you couldn’t afford to fall for someone so quickly. Once bitten, twice shy. He was just your landlord, he was nice. He helped you out the way any decent man would. That’s all.

When you arrived at the apartment an hour later, he was just about to leave to get you. He looked a little disappointed that you were already there, but walked you up anyway, again, silently closing the door behind you. The next day, he made sure to ask you what time you plan on going back, and when you tried to protest he raised his eyebrows at you. So, you told him 9pm. You saw his truck in the parking lot by 830.

On Friday, Maria stayed back with you, both of you deciding to go to the library after work. You texted Joel telling him your plan, so that he could go to his mother’s without having to wait for you. To your shock, his truck was still there when Maria dropped you off. He was sitting at his usual spot in his t shirt and shorts, waiting for you. He stood up when you got there. Maria saw and hid a smile from you, but recovered by asking you if you’d like to go to the farmers market with her and Tommy the next day? They’ll pick you up at eight.

Joel walked you up as usual. You asked him why he’s not at his mom’s, and he just shrugged and said her foot was better, thank you for asking. He’ll see her over the weekend.

The next day, Joel was waiting for you in his truck, and not Maria. You two will meet them there, he said. The drive to the farmer’s market was quiet, but you had never felt awkward when in silence with Joel. He was that comforting to be around. When you got to the market, you were met by both Tommy and Maria, both grinning at the sight of the two of you together, Joel helping you out of the truck as usual. He took the tote you had brought and refused to give it back to you.

As the four of you went around the market, Joel walked silently beside you, his presence bringing you warmth. Anytime you purchased something, he would take the items off your hands and placed them in the bag, but not before trying to fight you off paying the vendor. Over the next hour, this became a joke for the both of you, each competing to pay for something you wanted to buy before the winner eventually pumped a victorious fist and the two of you laughing as if you had known each other forever. Without realising it, you two were standing closer and closer together, and he began placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you away from vendors once you were done shopping. Tommy and Maria walked hand in hand behind you, both exchanging meaningful looks and satisfied smiles with each other.

You stopped for brunch at the café near the market before going home. You and Joel had gotten comfortable enough to share a menu and lean into each other as you perused it, wondering what you wanted to eat. When the food arrived, the four of you ate and chatted. You were feeling so comfortable for the first time since you had moved in, and unthinkingly, you took a piece of fruit from Joel’s plate. Once the fruit had entered your mouth, you paused, horrified at what you just did, and turned to look at him, an apology on your lips. You looked across the table, and Maria was just beaming at you, Tommy smiling so brightly at Joel you thought his face was going to crack. When you turned to look at Joel again, he just had the biggest smile on his face, and he pushed the plate nearer to you, before spearing a piece of omelette from your plate onto his fork and ate it. All the while, he was looking at you with a smile, daring you to chastise him.

Of course you didn’t.

After the meal, the four of you walked back to the car, still chatting and laughing as if you had known each other forever. When you got to his truck, he opened the door for you, making sure you were sat and buckled, before moving to put the tote you had brought in the back seat.

“Joel”, a voice called out.

Joel turned and went stock still. A lady with blonde hair was standing a few feet away, a man holding the hand of a little girl behind her. The little girl looked to be about five years old, her eyes and hair a carbon copy of her father’s, clearly distracted by a toy she was holding in her other hand.

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared. His eyes on the little girl and the man holding her hand, the man who was averting his eyes, looking annoyedly anywhere else but at Joel.

“How have you been?” the lady asked, her face nervous and unsure, her eyes flickering towards you.

Tommy and Maria reappeared, Maria going to the lady, and had a quiet but obviously heated discussion with her. Tommy took Joel by the shoulder and encouraged him to get back in the car. After some wild hand gestures from both ladies, Maria walked back to Joel’s truck, and the lady walked away, looking defeated. The man with her quickly handed the little girl to her, and turned away, his face unreadable.

After some quiet talks from Tommy, Joel started the engine and drove away.

It was as if someone had pushed the reset button on Joel. He shut down, hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, his face tight, jaws clenched. You didn’t dare ask him anything, so you kept quiet. He didn’t speak at all, even as he pulled the door shut behind him after walking you up, placing the tote in your hands.

You spent Sunday morning cooking a big batch of your favourite meal. The small room had begun to feel like home to you, and cooking in the tiny kitchen made it even more so. You made enough for you to freeze and reheat over the week and decided to put several servings in a container to give to Joel. He did cook for you when you were sick, maybe it’s time you did something nice for him. He didn’t answer his door, so you placed the container on the doormat, hoping he would take it when he was available. Just as you turned around to leave, the door opened, so you quickly picked up the container to hand to him, but it wasn’t him at the door.

A kind-looking, older lady was there instead, and you just paused. She took one look at you, smiled, held her hand out to you and said,

“You must be Julia from 1A. Hi. Anita Miller. Come in! I’ve been dying to meet you.” She opened the door wider, and waited for you to come in.

“Sorry I was late answering the door,” she said, hobbling alongside you once you were inside. “My foot is still not 100%. Joel is at one of the apartments fixing something or other. Come sit, we can get to know each other,” she said, sitting down, patting the seat next to her.

You sat down and took in the apartment. You had never been to his apartment before. You realised quickly that it was nothing like yours, obviously renovated to create a bigger space for him. There seemed to be more than one bedroom, the place exceedingly clean for a bachelor pad. You understood now why Joel was so comfortable picking up after you that one time you were sick.

You and Anita chatted, getting to know one another. Her husband died about fifteen years prior, passing his construction business to Joel and Tommy to handle. They were young and made some mistakes trusting the wrong people. But they got back up, doing what they really wanted to do, using what skills they had learnt to supplement their incomes. She had a very proud mama look on her face when talking about the two. She had come to visit Joel after she had heard about the encounter at the farmer’s market. She planned on staying a few days, just to make sure Joel was fine.

You so wanted to ask her what that was about but didn’t want to seem nosy. She asked you about your pregnancy, reminiscing on when she was pregnant with her two boys while doing so. You liked her. She was very easy to talk to, but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she was measuring you one way or another, and you couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or bad. Still, you found yourself telling her everything. It was the first time you did so. When it first happened, you told Maria and Frank the gist of it, and hadn’t had the energy to tell her anything more. Anita listened, and at the end, pulled you close to her, enveloping you in a hug.

The door opened, and you pulled yourself away from Anita’s hug. Joel walked in, a toolbox in his hand, his shirt and hair soaking wet. You guessed one of the young ladies showerheads had broken after all. He took a look at you and his mother on the couch, and turned slightly red. He muttered a quick hello before going into his bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. You began to make excuses to leave, but Anita held your hand – don’t you dare, her eyes and raised eyebrows said, eerily like Joel’s. You took the container you had brought and suggested that you serve them lunch. Joel must be hungry.

Joel came out freshly showered and changed to his dining table set with lunch. He took a look at how you and his mama were talking easily to each other, his heart feeling fuller than it had been in years. He sat down, and the three of you ate, Anita complementing you on your cooking, Joel helping himself to a second serving, you and Anita talking about the little things going on in your lives.

Anita couldn’t help but look at her oldest boy, reading his minute body languages that she had known so well ever since he was in her belly. He was calm, relaxed. He didn’t say anything, but the silent looks he gave you told her everything. And this Julia from 1A, you seemed guarded, but somehow at the same time at ease with Joel. She liked you. You and Joel were quietly chancing looks at each other, something neither of you realised you were doing. But Anita saw. And she was happy about it. Tommy and Maria were not wrong, it seemed.

Mrs Adler came by after lunch, and the two older ladies went into the spare bedroom to catch up on their gossip. You helped Joel clean up, something that felt backwards to you. Max had never helped out in the kitchen. And you felt like you just saw a glimpse of the past that you hadn’t seen before. You thought back to the time Joel spent with you at the hospital, and remembered why you didn’t think of Max when the ultrasound session was going on. When your appendix burst a few years ago, Max only visited you for a few minutes every day, always having somewhere to be, important, money-making places. But you were the supporting girlfriend, so you didn’t mind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Joel, asking you if you would join him for a walk. He had eaten a bit too much and needed one to avoid sleeping the evening away. Someone’s cooking was too good, he said, giving you a small wink. The two of you spent the next forty minutes or so walking around the area, you told him about your work and research, and in turn, he told you about the apartment building and his workshop. The Joel you saw back at the farmer’s market was back, it seemed. The two of you bantering and exchanging stories with each other, comfortably walking, shoulders brushing every now and again.

When you got back to the apartment, Mrs Adler was just leaving. You hugged Anita goodbye, feeling as if you had known her forever. She gave you a long and tight hug, telling you not to be a stranger. Joel walked you up as usual, but instead of silently shutting the door behind you, he took you by the wrist, and leaned in for a quick kiss on your cheek, thanking you for lunch. You kissed him back, also on the cheek, and asked him if he will drive you to work the next morning. His shyly nodded, his face blushing slightly, before turning around to leave.

You caught yourself smiling a lot for the rest of that day, even as you were mopping the floors, cleaning the bathroom, wiping the kitchen down. You felt silly, but you liked what you were feeling, just like a little girl with a crush. You went to bed smiling that night. You were still smiling when you got ready for work the next morning.

That was until, you looked at your feet in the shower and found the water red with blood from between your legs.

PART 3

[carriagelamp]

By and large I was very satisfied with my books from this month. Read some books that were Goofy As Fuck (affectionate) this month, as well as some excellent nonfiction

Beware of Chicken

I get to kick this month off by being a hater. I was really disappointed in this book. A friend completely loves the series and was convinced it was right up my alley, so I'd gotten it on really high recommendation. The concept is right up my alley (protagonist lives in a cultivation setting, decides he actually hates all the violence and fighting involved in cultivation and instead fucks off to become a farmer… however his rooster then becomes a cultivator in his stead, hilarity ensues!) but the execution… woof. This is the sort of parody that rubs me the wrong way, the sort that comes across as lazy and clumsy and too mean-spirited to be appealing. 

The main character is isekai’d (another trope I don’t love as a rule) and he is just… unpleasant. He is a very Standard OP Main Character where everything he does goes well and everyone loves and reveres him with no actual work put in. The way female characters are handled sucks. The only bits I really enjoyed was the rooster’s POV and even that began to feel repetitive pretty quickly. I did not finish this book, there are better options out there.

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish v1

Now, speaking of better books that lightly parody cultivation and isekai stories: tada! This series is ridiculous. It is very very very stupid. The writing is nothing to (hurr hurr) write home about. And I have definitely fallen in love with it, it’s good-hearted and silly in a way that feels perfect right now.

The main character, Li Yu, wakes up in a webnovel setting but rather than in the body of a character he is… a fish. The mission he’s given is to become the “tyrannical” fifth prince’s beloved pet and help him become a better person than he was in the canonical story. This whole book is some Saturday morning TV slapstick nonsense and it rocks. Li Yu is trying to be Very Sneaky And Cunning and fails it at every possible step. He is very obviously Not A Fish... however it just so happens that his new master knows so little about fish or pets that he’s just shrugging and going along with things. I’m very much looking forward to continuing the series.

Escape from Incel Island

I was in a independent book store and this was sitting out on a shelf. I was physically incapable of walking by this and not buying it. So here we are. This is the most deranged little novella you could possibly ask for, and I read it out loud with my girlfriend (while waiting in traffic) and later with my brother. It’s impossible not to laugh.

This story follows Manslaughter Jones, ruthless mercenary, and Dr Morrison who have been sent to the notorious Incel Island to retrieve lost government data. Along the way they team up with a group of Nice Guys, need to fight their way through dangerous forests and hordes of enemies while surrounded by a continual and extravagant spray of blood. What sort of people who were lured to an island prison with the promise of their very own woman upon arrival? You'll soon find out! This is obviously a parody of online incel culture and guns-blazing action movies, with just enough societal commentary to make it feel worth reading.

Honestly, if you want a book that jumps the shark from page one and is unapologetic about it, it's a very fun read. Highly recommend finding someone with a sense of humour to read it aloud with.

The God & the Flightless Messenger

A cute little manga that I was gifted. It’s set on a mountain where gods come and go, inhabiting the various peaks. They’re cared for by winged messengers, who tend to their needs and ensure they aren’t contaminated with chaos. Shin is a messenger whose wings never grew in properly, who can’t fly and doesn’t have a god to serve — until now. He’s sent down to the lowest mountain peak where a strange, new furball-of-a-god has appeared, one that seems to not just attract chaos to it but which seeks it out…

An Illustrated History of Urban Legends

A very chill nonfiction book about different aspects of urban legends, from ghost stories to cryptids to aliens. Written for a younger audience in mind, this is mainly just an introduction to the concept, but it’s well-written with a reasonably skeptical bend that points out conspiracy theories plainly. As an adult I found it worth reading just to enjoy the art that fills every page!

Old Wounds

This novel was… fine. Erin and Max, two trans teens, are determined to drive west to California, where they can attend college and live a more open life than they do in their small hometown. Things begin to go wrong though when they find themselves stranded in rural America, surrounded by not just small town bigots but potentially something much more deadly in the woods.

This is billed as a fairly classic “townsfolk sacrifice outsiders to the local monster” type of story, which I enjoy, but it fell short on the actual horror elements. There was no point where I was actually scared or worried for their well-being — it was fairly obvious that these two were safely shrouded in plot armour. However the story itself wasn’t bad. If you’re interested more in an interpersonal drama with a dash of light peril and horror elements on the side, you might enjoy this. If you want something that’s actually scary, try something else.

The Poison Squad

Absolutely phenomenal nonfiction, contender for my favourite book this month. This book delves into the history of the American FDA, and looks at the absolutely nightmarish landscape that existed when companies were allowed to put whatever the fuck they wanted into food completely indiscriminately and without telling anyone about it. All those people who want unpasteurized milk? Wanna know how they used to preserve it long enough to ship to the cities? Fill it with formaldehyde and some chalk powder to make it look white. Enjoy!! There was something very satisfying about watching such a dedicated fight for stricter regulations and consumer protection, mixed with just enough horror at what was being shoved into foods.

It has since been making me side-eye both a) food, and b) absolutely anything that tries to weaken governmental food regulations. Considering the political landscape, it really just makes this book all the more worth reading. On top of the fascinating topic, Deborah Blum has a very enjoyable, narrative writing style that makes it a very easy and enjoyable read (coming from me, who isn’t overly fond of nonfiction in general).

The Poisoner’s Handbook

After finishing Poison Squad I wanted to read more by Deborah Blum and found this. You can definitely see how Poison Squad grew out of the initial research that must have gone into The Poisoner’s Handbook. This nonfiction book is set during the Jazz Age, all around the time of Prohibition, and follows Charles Norris who becomes New York’s first appointed Chief Medical Examiner who pioneers the field of forensic medicine. He plays a pivotal roll in showing how rigorous scientific testing can be used to discern toxicity in humans, solve crimes, protect innocent people from wrongful accusations, and campaign for better safety regulations of poisonous substances. Not quite as well-written as Poison Squad imo, but a very compelling topic.

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Read in honour of Rememberance Day. This is a book I vaguely remembered reading in elementary school, and decided to revisit. It’s just a tiny little chapter book, about a twenty minute read if even, but it hits hard. I remember sobbing as I read it as a kid, and I didn’t fare much better as an adult. It’s a fictionalized account of a real Japanese girl, Sadako, who was born just after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. It follows her eventual diagnosis with leukemia and the slow death that follows. A very powerful anti-war story, superb if you want to traumatize any young children in your life ♥

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System v4

The final book of the Scum Villain Self-Saving System series, though the main story concluded in book 3. This book was entirely filled with additional “bonus stories” and honestly it’s just convinced me that more series should do this. There was something really fantastic about getting to neatly wrap up the series in book 3, but then still having some extra adventures, both pre-, mid-, and post-canon. Some of my favourites included the story that focused on side characters Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun and how their relationship evolved over the course of the series, some additional lore for my boy Zhuzhi-Lang, as well as a very amusing “de-age” story in which Luo Binghe finds himself in a child’s body though with all his usual memories and feelings. Shen Qingqiu has to deal with a pseudo-toddler who is capable of wholesale destruction — one who Is Not Happy about being mistaken for Shen Qingqiu’s child, and who wants people to stop propositioning this “single father” already, he is right here!!! These stories were mostly fun and silly with a few heart-wrenching ones mixed in for good measure.

The Swiss Family Robinson

A children’s classic that I’ve always meant to get around to. It was published in 1812??? I had no idea it was actually that old! Though man, once you start reading it You Can Tell...

For those who somehow don’t know the premise, The Swiss Family Robinson is about a (Swiss) family (named Robinson) who are shipwrecked near a deserted island. They then have to make their way to shore and figure out a way to survive. You see them meet all sorts of animals, scavenge for supplies, and build up a home on their island paradise.

Now, as far as it coming out in 1812… I can see why this would appeal to people at the time. It was a power-fantasy set during a time when sea exploration was The Hot Thing. There were all sorts of exotic animals! It tried to offer up what was probably New And Exciting Science! Unfortunately, from a 2024 lens, it is all completely insane and wrong. Kangaroos, buffalos, ostriches, jackals, elephants, vultures, anacondas… the entire world is condensed onto this singular island! Don’t even get started on the plantlife! And every single animal here is destined to be hunted and shot. We are very gun-happy in this book. 

My other main condemnation of the book (because let’s be honest, the science can be forgiven when the time period is taken into account) is that it is profoundly boring. There are no big problems. There is no difficulty. If a problem arises, it’s easily and perfectly solved by the father within the same paragraph. It makes for a slightly surreal reading experience and not one I'm eager to repeat. I've heard the Disney version at least includes pirates so I might try watching that, just so this boring as fuck colonialist narrative can get spiced up a little...

When Women Were Dragons

Hands down the best written book I’ve read this month which I was not expecting. I’ve seen this book’s name get bandied about, but always with pretty mixed reviews. Well, after finishing the book and diving into the goodreads comments to see what the heck people are going on about, I’ve concluded that the reading comprehension on this site is worse than I imagined.

So, from the top, let me make it abundantly clear: this is not a fantasy adventure. It will not read like a fantasy adventure. It is, arguably, not even fantasy! Despite the dragons! This book is 100% an example of pure, uncut magical realism and it has to be read allegorically. If you are reading this literally, I’m sorry but you are reading it wrong and I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t enjoy it.

This story is set during the 1950s, in a time surrounding an event known as “The Mass Dragoning” when thousands of women suddenly, spontaneously, transformed into dragons and flew away. The story follows Alex Green who was a child during this event. Her aunt transformed. Her mother didn’t. Both of these things have profound impacts on Alex as she grows up, and a woman’s role in society, a woman’s anger, her joy, her desire are all questioned and explored. What does it mean for someone to stay, for someone to leave, and for someone to be left behind? What does the transition between first and second wave feminism look like? It is a heavy book but beautifully written and incredibly poignant. So many times I was left in speechless awe. This is really a masterpiece, and if you like dissecting literary works I can’t recommend it enough.

This Months Notable Absentee:

Whoops, I was doing Dracula Daily and completely forgot about it during the long slow section after the October whammy, so I did not end up finishing it on time.... 🫠 expect that on Decembers book round up!

[ttheagcd]

- cue golden girls theme song -

you know these past few months on here have been so ugh and blah as something happened to me and a few friends that killed the fucking vibe for us. slowly but surely people’s true colors came out and i never spoke about it but some people know from experiencing it. now we’re all starting to feel like we used to before which leads me to this post bc thanksgiving and whatnot. in the mood to give thanks to you because you’re the reason I get to keep writing alex / buck / my multi.

okay so i love you all for putting up with my ass, my laziness and alex’s too because i know he is not easy to deal with:

@epihlogue & @loveindomitable / @twistedgrace / @pcrfidia & @firepiloted & @gonnabuck / @athl3tes / @shadowbrn / @forrkeeps / @gldngrrls / @leschanceux / @cfthesoul / @billyktothemax / @mecwmellc / @snnydcys — been loving you from afar so yolo you get a mention too / @dalphahale / @westwingsolo

to my mutuals who are my mutuals and nothing more: keep kicking ass. we are lowkey admiring and loving you from afar and love seeing you do your shit.

i gotta give these following people a little specific shout out because without them, i would not still be here on this blog today.

@gccdgraces — ceejay you fucking phenomenal human being you. we’ve gotten so much more closer in the past few months and tbh having you as the one to help me deal this shit with was a saving grace. you’re not only a fucking amazing writer but also a fucking amazing human being. thank you for everything. love crying over all our babies and our bookish obsession. stay cool. never change and keep being that fabulous bitch you are.

@hstoryhuh / @soulwaned — oh my dear britt britt 😉 my homie. my little partner in crime. i fucking adore you and your dogs, precious babies 🥺 thank you for everything. for the laughs, for the crying in the feels, for talking about giving me all the things and then we just vibe along. i love everything we’ve done and will keep doing.

@ssolessurvivor — oh saturn, let’s start at the beginning yeah? idk how you came across my blog but thank you for it because holy shit look at us now. a billion and one au’s with our boys and they keep on coming 😂 thank you for liking and trusting me enough to deep dive into logan and his past. not all oc’s have a defined background and information, the majority do but some don’t and that’s where things get hazy and it is so fucking hard to write with an oc when there’s barely any info for anyone to learn about but you cover any and every inch of logan’s past and future. but also thanks for letting me throw anyone at him lmao it’s been fun as hell.

@thcrealheroes — DELLA MY LOVE. my ride or die bitch. we barely write anymore but i still follow and love your ass all over the place because you cannot get rid of me 😏 i couldn’t do this and not mention you. god it feels like we’ve lived 50 lives in the time we’ve been rp-ing together. we’ve been through some shit and always find some way to share the experience, even if it doesn’t directly hit us both. lmao i fucking love you and your kids.

@kookmade — link i know that i mentioned your multi above but i had to give rafe’s blog its own little shout out because this is the blog we met and all. thank you for being my lil football homie and letting me constantly cry about taylor / alex at you. fucking love it and your muses. thank you for hearing me out as well on certain days.

i am so fucking sorry if i forgot someone. i probably did fuck me. i’m sorry if i did, i promise it’s not you. it’s my fucking brain.

[wosowffc]

RELATIVES

Part 3

A week in and me and Leah haven spoke once, the team noticed, the staff noticed, the manager noticed even the canteen noticed. I don't plan on talking to her, I don't know what to say "oh sorry for running away when I needed help" or " sorry thought I should take a 4 year trip" like no, so what do you say.

My relationship with people in the squad have gotten stronger after some bonding games and chilling at eachothers house. I was finding it a bit hard to stay calm and not be my energetic electrocuted self but, i try to find ways. Alessia had been great at that point if you went out side at lunch or after training she would join to give me company as i let energy out.

I had your first game in two days and i feel like i could be a posible substitute as your training and small matches have been unreal.

I got up this morning and Im on time for once -I've never been good at time keeping- i sat on the sofa and read the note pad in which I write down things I need to do the next day, so, I get some done and out of the way before .I get home and put the dishwasher on and clean up some dishes along with putting away washing, I put on the washer as I get dressed before leaving for the colony.

We have some recovery today and tactics which I already know means I'll have try try sit still. Ariving I pull up to Steph and Leah. Leah doesn't look at me as Steph calls me to follow them in so I do. Walking along with Steph I keep glancing at Leah I'm pritty sure she's doing it too when I'm not looking which is getting on my nerves.

We walk inside and almost as soon as we enter the room me and Leah are called by Renee to go to her office for a "chat" I like Renee but I don't think this is a good chat. You enter the office you first then Renee and lastly Leah you don't look at eachother as renee sits down.

"Is everything ok between you two?" Her first question and you already want to leave.

"I think we just havnt got properly got a chance to bond yet" leha answers nearly immediately, I look down at my feet my legs are rocking side to side.

"Alright well I want you two to partner today, I would like you to do an hour gym hour Recovary then go out for lunch together" Is. She. Serious. I'm not doing that I'm not end of.

"Yeah seems ok with me" LEAH shut up stop talking my god I don't want to do this, that's all I can say to myself in my head.

We leave the room in silence I try to go towards where Katie and vic was but leahs voice cuts through first words she has said directly to me.

"Come on bean." My nickname. Bean. She would call me that when we were younger..i....I can't do this.

"Leah...I- I umm" shit come on is find words iz, find words

Leah guides me to the gym she girls all take their looks as you walk together but you get on with what you planned to do putting head phones on taking the opportunity to not talk.

Now we're almost done in here so what now, we're ment to go talk about feeling. I'm not good at talking feelings. I get up bringing my water and phone and leave the room as Leah isn't looking going to the changing room.

"We need to talk iz" Leah. NO LEAVE ME ALONE.

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[james-stark-the-writer]

feel like pure shit, just want her back

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

I am in the airport heading back from vacation why do I see notifs for comments asking me to DM them

[blubble-lake]

it's been over 2 weeks and this thing (unfortunately) still has a grip on me