#he ‘drafted’ his ‘declaration’ if u know what i mean

[ovrarches]

mais moi, je ne t'oublierai pas, et je compte sur toi

[coolingrosa]

Sorry for the onslaught of questions, but could you tell me how you learned to write so beautifully? Like the complexities of characters' emotions, how you describe things, tips to improve vocab, some good book recommendations, the way u use idioms and sayings so perfectly and just everything else you do? Ur writing is just so good that it actually makes me feel things 😭😭 I need to become like youuu

This is a very heavy duty question and I’ll try my absolute hardest to answer this!

First things first, I do want to clarify that if you’re asking about the writing of chapter one, I want to make a note that a lot of the flowing text and descriptions was written by my co-writer- BarnacleGirl. We have a system where I write the rough draft, and dialogue, then hand it over to her to polish and add on some additions. However, that has not been done for chapters 2, 3 and the prologue. Those three mediums have not been touched by her writing and is simply mine. So if you’re specifically wondering about the details in chapter one, send in another ask directed at her and I’ll get her to answer it for you!

If you have the right idea and meant to send it for the whole fic, I’ll continue!

Character writing hasn’t always been my best work in the past. Nobody starts off writing complex characters with compelling morals until they grow a bit and experience a lot of life. What really taught me how to write was putting myself into each character and making them human. I give my characters the bad parts of myself- the good parts- parts that my friends see and that I don’t. Situations I’ve gone through are sprinkled through my writing and the emotions written on the pages is real because it’s taken from a real person.

This isn’t me saying that if you haven’t gone through hardships, or put yourself into characters, you’ll make flat ones. However, making human characters comes with human qualities- even bad ones.

Killer isn’t a good person.

He’s not. He just isn’t. He’s one of the main characters for the story and sympathized with but with his actions he’s not considered a good person.

But guess what? Dream isn’t a good one either. Nobody is.

Because the idea of good and bad people is an unreachable concept that we as human beings can’t follow. Everyone is going to mess up and hurt somebody on accident- maybe even on purpose. And in return- you’ll deal with hardships and heartbreak too. And the people you hurt or are hurt by will all see you in different lights. You’ll be a good person to many and a bad person to equally as much. So declaring a character a overall good or bad person doesn’t carry the same weight as real life dynamics.

Erasing the idea that characters have an archetype of good and bad really helped me make good characters and kept me out of my box. You can have characters who are horrible to some people but kind to others- characters who love very hard but show it terribly. But that’s what makes these individuals people. The bad traits and the mix of good create who they are. Their good actions and bad actions have to make sense for what they are thinking. Nobody is born evil. People become evil and even your most horrifically evil characters still have to have human traits remaining inside to make them one.

When I get an idea of a character and their vibes, diving into their emotions becomes easy because I can better envision myself in their place. Sometimes this can get emotional, but building that connection with your characters can really help you type out their thoughts and feelings like second nature. I advise you to use a lot of drowning and fire metaphors for emotions- as a rush of cold and heat is the two most common sensations when someone is feeling a strong emotion.

Tips for vocabulary: use a thesaurus LMAOOO

I’m SO bad at vocabulary. I don’t know what so many words mean and I constantly have to find replacement words for some of my text so don’t worry if ur ashamed about doing that- I do it all the time. My favorite thesaurus is word hippo, as it has so many different variations.

I unfortunately don’t have any book recommendations as I haven’t read a lot recently- but my writing style right now is heavily based on on the book All the Light we Cannot See. I’m not a huge fan of the book, but the writing style in it is impeccable and totally influenced my writing when I read it in sophomore year. Roseverse was also directly inspired by For the Forgotten Ones on ao3 and while it didn’t inspire me writing style wise, it did motivate a lot of my world building.

I also really appreciate you liking my work- it makes me really happy! However, there’s no need to become exactly like me in writing, as writing styles are just as complex and different as art styles. How you write is unique to you, and a statement of what you bring to the table. There’s beauty in that. Never be ashamed of your own writing style or skills. Keep wanting to improve, of course, but keep your love for writing centered around what you can make with YOUR hands. Because someday, your personal writing style and art may amaze another person out there who will want to write just like you.

You’re capable of amazement. Never forget that.

[honeyglz]

I know damn well Outlaw!Cowboy!Izuku wouldnt make me feel like shit w/ other ppl. He listens. I know he told me himself. So because he told me heres some cowboy word vommit. Because I felt like shit tonight lmao!!!

He's so nice too. He would never talk down to you, well sometimes but he means well!! He likes to hear you rant, even if its angry incoherent thoughts spewing from your mouth. He doesn't care, he wants to hear you speak, just you <3 Sometimes he since he's not rlly supposed to be around ya, he will find ways.

Man's pulls up in a milk man outfit and you have to patiently ask if he bought the milk or if you have to put him back in his cell. "C'mon darlin its just some milk!! And plus, I know you missed me." He's smiling at you with the stupid lopsided grin as he confidently puffs out his chest in declaring you missed him. Which is true but how tf he know that?- Yk what who cares. "Go put back the milk." "But-!" "No but's Deku." He's literally sulking, eyes to the floor as he pouts turning to reluctantly give the milk man back his delivery, and clothes ig :(( BUT THEN "And hurry back, it's my day off and as far as I'm concerned, my property is off the towns border." "Meaning?" "Meaning, if your fast enough your food will still be hot" He RUNS. Like literally little cloud of smoke in the shape of him and everything. When he gets back he realizes you weren't joking. Whole home cooked meal and everything. (If u cant cook than imagine u got horse uber eats or sumth??)

He's vry grateful, even plants a lil kiss on the top of ur head when he walks in. To which you promptly try to ignore in hopes of not making a fool of urself. He probably thinks he's dreaming cause if it were up to him he wouldn't leave. Screw breaking the law he wants to break out a ring and get down on one knee. Hehe I love him. But lets not keep the others waiting shall we? Now Izuku wants to stay but you tell him he needs to scram cause u have things to be doing. He's understanding, bidding you farewell before heading into town to do whatever. So here u are, alone, doing ur thing. When all of a sudden u hear knocking. Weird. You decide to ignore it and eventually it stops. It's not until someone comes running to your door, banging down the door screaming that someone is running around town shooting in the center and I quote this next bit- "Telling 'extra's' to come out and fight him like a man" Yea safe to say u know who this is. So being so nice u head into town ON UR DAY OFF TOO to sort out this mess. And there he is, standing on a barrel in the middle of town is Dynamight, gun out and pointing at what your assuming is some poor bystander. Now you know Bakugou. And as fond of the blonde as you may be, your not the type of person to allow violence, ESSP in ur own town outside ur damn office. So you do something about it. Now he's yelling and cussin all over the place unaware of you standing directly behind him. You don't bother to try gain his attention, instead pressing the cool barrel of your gun to his back. Even through his thick coat he knows that pressure, that familiar sense is one that's not so easily shaken. He goes silent, mouth turned up despite the drying sensation in his throat. He lowers his gun, chucking it to the side. "Took you long enough." The town goes silent watching as the blonde menace steps down from his makeshift throne while you cuff him. Mind u he's smirking during the whole thing. Izuku is watching this from the bar, rolling his eye whole you throw Bakugou in his cell. Stupid sillies. AN- this has been rotting in my drafts for like a week so here. It is vry unfinished but idc lmao

[rainebowkitty]

saw ur ask thing

u know what I'm gonna say

A-

I THINK THIS IS THE POST THIS ASK WAS MEANT FOR AND I'M FINALLY GETTING TO IT A YEAR OR SO LATER LMFAO I'M SO SORRY MARO

Answers under cut cuz they're all kinda long ^^

First impression: Too cool for school tbh. Like the best comparison I have for it is hearing people hype up the quarterback for like a high school football team in a movie and thinking to yourself, "He's an idiot, isn't he?" The kinda guy that's liked for the shallowest of reasons—either his looks or what he can get people rather than his skills or personality. Perhaps not a fraud... but not all that impressive either. This is all cuz of how he was introduced before his teasers came out. All we had to judge him off of was all the other characters' talking him up in their voice lines, so before he actually dropped, I was just sitting there thinking to myself god, is he really all that they're making him out to be or is it the fact that Mondstadt has no mandatory education program? I was sure I wouldn't be caught in his web.

Impression now: Well, I dropped $100 on him back in the day during his first banner, so I think we all know what I thought of him after I actually got the chance to MEET him

Favorite moment: God that's a toughie tbh... I know you hate that all of his appearances are limited events but I personally LOVE that fact because it means that everyone who's never played the game just hearing people talk him up probably all have the same first impression that I did LMAO. But if I have to pick a moment... well... "Destroy Mondstadt, destroy everything." is PROBABLY when I fell in love with him? Just realizing how lonely and isolated he is because he didn't know how to connect with people is so relatable too, and with the addition of Dragonspine at the time when we were bone dry for content? Yeah, I think that's gotta be my fave moment, though him stabbing his double was pretty hot too LMFAO

Idea for a story: I have this really goofy (but also angsty at the right times) story in my drafts that I never finished where Diluc and Kaeya have to actually get along with each other for once to Sus Out his Susiness™

Unpopular opinion: This is more of a headcanon than anything, but do you guys ever think that his modesty originates from a rather forced place? Like I imagine he was super cold and unemotional about most things while with Rhinedottir, just solely thinking about his own efficiency and results more than his feelings. So what if he wasn't always the kind of guy to gently brush off any declarations of him being a genius? What if, before he started uncovering the natural beauty of the world for what it is rather than what it gets him, he wasn't very good at gracefully accepting compliments? Someone would say he's good at something and he responds with a toneless, "Naturally." I mean, to back this up, his vision story quite literally says he was not surprised to receive one. Maybe Timaeus was the ultimate test when it came to having patience with the slower people in a similar field as him LMFAO

Favorite relationship: Kaebedo for life.

...Wait, you mean canonically? Fine then, him being Klee's big brother is my favorite thing ever. Being pen pals with Scara is pretty great too though LMFAO ty Irodori festival

Favorite headcanon: In that story I have in my drafts, I have a part where he practically dives under a table to grab a snack—said snack being a spider. Or maybe the one where Klee gets into the habit of doing his braids for him. Or maaaaybe the one where Rhinedottir just left him all alone to figure it out on his own one day because she realized she was actively hindering him from becoming as human as she'd like him to be with her frigid teachings and meticulous nature. Because if he's not human enough, he's a failure, of course.

Anyway... That was a lot LMAO. Sorry for typing so much and to anyone who read this, I hope you enjoyed LMFAO

[moonyswritinq]

what i am — stephen strange x gn reader oneshot

❝ WHAT I AM ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Stephen had always been there for you ever since you arrived at the doorstep of Kamar-Taj a broken person, but when you keep lying and keeping things from him he's having a hard time trusting you.

PAIRING ➢ stephen strange x gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ friends to lovers, cursing, angst, fluff-ending ish?, canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, untrusting Stephen, angry love confession, trust issues, tension

WORD COUNT ➢ 4.0 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ references the reader as you, y/n and y/l/n! i was looking through my drafts and found this little piece. i wrote it several months ago and i think i intended it to be a series, but i do not remember where i was going with it, lol. so i continued writing on it and turned it into a oneshot instead! hope u enjoy &lt;3

MASTERLIST

“Strange!”

Your voice echoed through the halls of the temple of Kamar-Taj, your tone filled with annoyance. You rushed out of the room, a book clasped in your hand and a stern expression planted on your face. Your footsteps sounded against the wooden floor as you walked through the long hallway of the dormitory. Several doors were open, revealing the sorcerers inside the rooms, either resting or meditating.

As the hallway took a turn you came to a halt, right outside Doctor Stephen Strange’s room. His door stood slightly ajar, revealing his form sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book laid open in front of him, his deep red cloak levitating in the air. You pushed the door, letting your figure silently slip into the room.

On one end of the room, the wall opposite from the door, stood a bed, not bothered to have been made, and a small table next to it, adorned with a lamp and a few books. At the end of the bed stood a desk, books cluttering it and pages thrown on the surface. A small window broke the wooden wall, casting light and warmth into the room. On the wall furthest to the left stood a door, leading into a separate room that served as a bathroom.

Strange had his eyes closed and his hands in front of him, bathing in the silence and deeply focused. You took this moment to appreciate his appearance, something that was very rare, considering he was always on the move. His face expressed peacefulness, as his torso lifted and sank with each breath, stretching the deep blue robes he was wearing. Strange’s hair laid perfectly over his head, the sides displaying a faint silver, but it only made him look more handsome. His high cheekbones bathed in the light from the window, and his lips were pursed together in concentration.

A small wrinkle appeared on his forehead at your entrance. “You know it is rude to stare."

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and cleared your throat. “What is this?” you asked in a sharp tone, lifting your arm. Stephen glanced at the object in your hand, examining the black runes on the cover of your book, then closing his eyes again.

“If I am not mistaken, it is a book of sorcery,” he promptly declared. You sighed exasperatedly, throwing your arms out in annoyance.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” you asked defiantly, opening the book, only to reveal pages with big, painted pictures and short sentences. “The small bunny hopped out of the green bush, scaring the young girl, only to begin munching on his orange carrot,” you read.

Strange bit his lip, holding back his laughter, before answering in a serious tone. “God, y/n. One would think that a sorcerer as great as you wouldn’t sink to the reading level of a kindergartener.”

You shot him a sharp look. “Where is my book, Stephen?” Strange’s eyes widened, his expression turning innocent.

“Whatever do you mean? Isn’t that your book?”

You huffed in annoyance, throwing the book into his lap, making him jump, and walked over to the desk to search among the masses of parchments and pages. Your hands roamed through the books and flipped through the pages, all the while as your eyes jumped back and forth in the mess.

“You really should clean more often,” you said, to which Strange only rolled his eyes. “Aha!” you exclaimed, your fingers wrapping around a thick book with the same cover as the one in Strange’s lap, only that the pages were filled with intricate symbols and words. You turned to Strange with a victory grin before throwing yourself down on his bed, the book laying beside you.

Strange had always been like this; stubborn, defiant, and arrogant. Ever since you had walked through the temple’s doors, two years ago, shortly before the fall of the Ancient One, Strange and you had formed a strong relationship.

You hesitantly took your steps through the streets of Kamar-Taj, Nepal. Your black leather clothes clung to your body while a hood hid your face from prying eyes. You had been lost, and broken, looking for a new future, something that could save your.

And that was when you had bumped into Doctor Stephen Strange, sitting against the wall of the temple, peacefully reading a book in the golden light during sunset. He glanced up at the sight of you, giving you a questioning look.

“Who are you?” His deep voice asked, lowering the book in his hands.

Your gloved knuckles knocked on the wooden door, turning to the figure beside your. “Who is asking?”

Strange glanced down at his brown robes, spreading his arms exaggeratedly. “Um, me?” You rolled your eyes at the man, turning to the door and knocking a second time.

Without taking his eyes from his book, Strange opened his mouth. “They won’t answer.”

You tried to hide your annoyance and once again turned to look at the man. “And why is that?”

“You need to be invited, something I assume, you are not.” Strange turned a page, seeming completely uninterested by the person beside him.

“And how would you know?” you asked, your tone sharp.

He finally looked up to meet your gaze. “Because, I just happen to be one of the temple’s residents.” You crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot, cocking an eyebrow. Strange closed his book, tucking it under one arm, before standing up, towering over your frame. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange.”

You raised an eyebrow, and reached out for his hand to shake. “y/n y/l/n.” Strange chuckled and took your hand. “Something funny?”

“Quite a peculiar name, don’t you think?”

“You’re one to talk, Strange,” you mocked, smirking at him slightly. He nodded towards the door, before unlocking it and holding it open for you. The dark hall was inviting against the hot, late afternoon sun outside the temple, letting you cool down in the shade. However nice your leather outfit looked, it wasn’t exactly practical in that particular environment.

Strange led you into a large open room, tall pillars spread out along the walls, with a table on the far right and a smaller one in the middle. A large man sat at the table at the right, sipping a beverage from a small cup while gazing on the couple over the tip of it.

Strange stopped, letting you walk into the middle, while a woman in yellow robes walked forward, pouring tea into a cup for you. Strange smirked knowingly, waiting for your next move.

You gratefully took the cup out of the woman’s hand, but didn’t turn away from her. “I believe you are the one I am looking for.”

Strange cleared his throat at your response, but remained still where he stood. The woman narrowed her eyes, taking her own sip of tea.“Depends on who you are looking for.”

“The Ancient One,” you said, putting down the cup gently on the low table beside you. The woman smiled warmly, nodding at you.

“Then you have come to the right place. Please, sit.” She nodded to the cushions on the floor, beside the table. You sat down together with the Ancient One, crossing your legs and letting your hands rest in your lap.“Why do you seek me?”

Your eyes filled with insecureness, fiddling with your fingers in your lap.“I am here because of the Mind Stone.”

The Ancient One visibly stiffened in her seat, before waving to the people in the room. “Leave us, please.”

Strange shot the woman a questioning look, but left as he was told.

You slipped out of your thoughts, throwing yourself up to a sitting position on Strange’s bed. “Why’d you even take it for?” you asked, shooting him a glance. “You know that book isn’t for you.”

Strange shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You were bored?”

“Yes, I was bored.” Strange crossed his arms, steadily meeting your gaze with his grey eyes. “Besides, I was curious as to what kind of information you were withholding from me.”

You leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Oh, Master Strange, please do enlighten me with your findings.”

He chuckled lightly, pushing himself off the floor and lifting your book from the bed, into his hands. He absentmindedly began to flip through the pages. “Rituals. Instructions. It’s filled with all this information on dark matter, energy merging, manipulation of all sorts.” He glanced up from the book, meeting your gaze. “Why do you have this? Why didn’t the Ancient One let me read it?”

You lowered your gaze, making sure to select your next words carefully. “It’s… complicated.”

Strange sighed, rolling his eyes irritably and threw the book down on the bed again. “Oh come on, give me a break, y/n.” You avoided his gaze, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. A nervous habit, Strange had noticed. “We’ve known each other for almost two years. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You threw your arms out, giving him an exasperated look. “We are, Stephen. But this isn’t about us, it’s about me. About my past.”

Even though you had known each other for such a long time, you hadn’t once told him about your past. You had only mentioned briefly of how broken you were when you arrived at Kamar-Taj, or of how you were seeking a better future. But you never went into detail.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I need to go.” You stood up, grabbing the book by your side, and walked past Strange. You took a few steps across the room before a red cloak appeared before you, blocking your path. You glanced back at Strange, receiving a guilty and dark look from him, before sighing and trying to push the cloth out of the way. It wouldn’t budge.

You took a deep breath and fished your sling-ring out of your pocket, opening a portal big enough for you to get through, leading into your own room. With one last disappointed look at Strange, one to which he avoided, you stepped through and closed it behind you.

You placed the book in your own personal bookcase, one the Ancient One had provided for you before her passing, and you made sure there were no prying eyes around. You never knew who could be watching.

With one swift movement of your arms, you flicked your hand in a dismissive motion, letting the window and doors close by themselves, shutting out all of the light. You held your hand out in front of you, before one of the floorboards began to loosen itself and revealed a small box of intricate carvings and patterns.

You moved forward, picking up the box and opening it. Inside, laid two daggers, enveloped by darkness and releasing a faint dark mist from them, a small notebook, together with a black quill, a pair of black gloves, and a small pouch.

You retrieved the gloves, putting them on your hands, and putting the box back, underneath the floorboard. The gloves fit perfectly to your hands as you stretched your fingers. They were a token from a past you weren’t yet ready to let go off.

As you made your way out of the temple halls, your feet hesitated outside of Stephen’s closed door. You couldn’t hear anything behind it, but you knew he was there. It hurt — lying to him like this. You didn’t want to do it. He was your friend. But you didn’t have a choice. You knew when you entered these walls that you could never reveal the truth about yourself. The Ancient One had known that if you did you would be seen as an abomination — something to eradicate — something dangerous.

You doubted Stephen would hurt you, but with his strong moral compass you couldn’t be completely sure. Fuck, it hurt to think like this. That Stephen really would—

No. No, he wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself think like that.

The setting sun glared as you opened the doors, making your way through the streets of Kamar-Taj. There was a slight chill to the autumn afternoon, but it was a welcome interruption to the usually boiling summer days. Your feet led you through the streets, walking an all too familiar path.

After the Ancient One’s passing you and Stephen had been very busy. Trying to rebuild the other Sanctuaries and establishing new leaders turned out to be very exhausting tasks. Between all of that you hadn’t really had time for your own personal mission.

When you were younger you had been exposed to the Mind Stone by some sick experiments. It was Hydra, you knew that much, but then your memories went fuzzy. All you were left with was a weird feeling in your hands and hypersensitivity to every touch and movement. It had been a difficult adjustment at first, but now, with the help of the Ancient One, it felt like an extension of yourself.

You also knew that you hadn’t been alone in the experiments. There were other kids, too. And you didn’t want to abandon them as others had you.

You stopped short at the middle of an alleyway, your back turning to lean against the stone wall. Your breaths came out in short puffs as you waited — as the seconds came and went.

One minute. Three minutes. Eleven minutes.

He was late. Something was wrong — he was never late.

You pushed yourself off the wall and began making your way deeper down the alley with rushed steps. If something had gone wrong with him, there was a big possibility that something was going to go wrong with you as well. Your neck craned as you continued to throw uncertain glances over your shoulder every few steps.

A cry split the air, so tortured and antagonising that it would etch itself into your brain for years to come. You broke out into a run, following the sound. All your mind could scream was not him, not now, not yet. It cannot be over yet.

A rounded corner and you stood face to face with what your mind could only describe as horrible. There were four figures, all of them standing over a body on the ground. You could see a sickening dark red seeping from it but forced yourself to focus on the figures. They had heard you running and were walking towards you. The man closest to you broke out into a sprint and grabbed a club from nearby, swinging it at your head. You ducked — barely, and kicked his feet under from him. You had but a moment before the next person was on you, a knife in hand.

You swerved, pulling their hand with you. Your hand found their elbow and with a sickening crunch you felt it crack underneath your fingers. The person cried out in pain as you jabbed their nose with your fist, filling the dark evening with anguish. Your eyes found the body on the ground again, not a muscle moved.

C’mon, you thought, willing the body to move with your mind.

The punch came out of nowhere, knocking the air out of your chest. You coughed, feeling your ribs straining. The three remaining figures made their way towards you, their weapons ready at hand. You pushed your body up on your elbows, trying to clear your mind.

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, the familiar tingling flowing to your fingers. Another kick. You coughed and you felt your mind begin to fog. Fuck. You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Your vision was a tinted red and you had to squint. This was not good.

You could feel the movement before you felt the impact of the punch. The problem was, there was no impact — at least not to you. In front of you were a golden shimmer, separating yourself from the other men. With a grunt you pushed yourself to your feet, your forcefield forcing them further back. With one hand you sent them to the wall, trapping them against it. You furtively cast a few glances around you before running to the body on the ground.

Your hand shot out, halting before it reached the body. Your fingers curled, hesitating. Thinking better of it, your hands grabbed the body and turned it over, revealing his face. It was beaten to a pulp almost beyond recognition. But there was no doubt it was him. Blood seeped from several open wounds. You lowered your ear to his mouth, trying to determine if he was breathing. There. The slightest rise in his chest. You closed your eyes. Thank god, he’s alive.

First, there was the movement. Then came the sound. But the impact never came. The knife that had been thrown in your direction had stopped mid-air, suspended by orange, glowing threads. Your eyes followed their path, landing on a tall man further down the alley, clad in a dark red cloak. Fuck, you knew that cloak. You sighed, stood up and reluctantly faced the man.

Strange stepped forward, letting the knife clatter to the floor. You glanced at the man that had thrown it, but he had passed out, his injury still apparent. Reluctantly, you met Strange’s gaze. It was nothing like you remembered. Warm, witty and welcoming. Now, it was cold, pinning you to your spot, penetrating your soul and making every second feel excruciating. When he finally spoke, you let yourself release a breath of air.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, gesturing towards the rest of the figures still pinned against the wall. “What is this?”

“I—” you began, but couldn’t bring yourself to utter yet another lie, more pretty words to hide from him, to dig your grave even deeper. “I can explain this.”

His hard gaze set on you. “I expect you will.” Another glance at the men, at the energy holding them steadfast. “Who even are you?”

The words felt like a punch in the gut, forcing you a step back. After all of this, you thought he wouldn’t think of you differently. See you differently. By the alienating look he gave you, you were ultimately wrong. Fuck, this was exactly what you didn’t want to happen — what you’ve been dreading all this time. Every time you considered just telling Strange the image of him looking at you with a gaze full of disgust and hatred forced itself into your brain — the exact same image that was now in front of you.

You waved a hand, dismissing the forcefield against the figures. You bent down beside the body again, glancing up at Strange. He saw the pleading look you gave him and let his cloak envelope the body and float it beside the two of you.

Your footsteps echoed into the now quiet night, not daring to breathe too deeply in fear of disturbing whatever peace now lay upon the two of you. You didn’t need to look at him to know his face was set in a deep frown, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes set. You could practically hear his brain humming with energy, but decided not to say anything.

When you reached Kamar-Taj Strange sent for a healer, letting the cloak lead the body to the healer’s room. His eyes found yours and steadied, turning around to walk further down the hall. You inhaled a breath, forcing your thoughts to calm down and body relax. You followed him, realising he was leading you towards your own room. Once inside, you shut the door and leaned against it, seeing his slumped figure against your mattress. This was it, you realised. You were prepared for a fight, an argument, a confrontation.

“What is going on, y/n?” His voice sounded desperate, more than you were prepared for. It took you by surprise. When you finally composed yourself you realised you’d been quiet for too long.

“I don’t know where to even start.”

He met your gaze, hardening once again. “How about you start with tonight? Who were those men?”

“Easy. I have no idea.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Alright, who is the dying man?”

You lowered your head. “An old friend of mine.”

Strange let out a dry laugh. “Not vague at all.”

“He’s helping me— with something.”

“What?”

You hesitated. “I— can’t say.”

Strange stood up, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, give me a break. I just saved your pitiful life and you can’t even tell me the truth?”

You glowered at him. What right did he have to say that? He didn’t know what was at stake, what had happened to you or what you had gone through. But whose fault was it really that he didn’t know those things? Mine, you reluctantly admitted.

“I’m— different than you are.”

“Oh, really? Wouldn’t have thought that from the way you looked like a fucking sun earlier.”

You threw him a pointed look, to which he lowered his head at. Always had to be so snarky.

“I have the power of the mind stone inside of me, and it makes me able to— do things I couldn’t before.” You rushed the words out of you, as if you would never get them out otherwise. Maybe you wouldn’t. His eyes narrowed, looking you up and down. “What I am is something dangerous, Stephen.” There was the calculating gaze once again, trying to determine how much of a threat you were. You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He gave you a helpless look. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to think? You’ve been keeping things from me — this huge part of yourself that you didn’t trust me with. You go around fighting people on the streets, almost killing yourself! What am I supposed to do with that? Trust you?” A humourless laugh.

You halted. He was right, what was he supposed to do? You had been giving him nothing. For every growing second you felt yourself becoming smaller, giving more way for helplessness.

“Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you. I wasn’t sure how you would react, I was afraid—“

“Afraid of what? That’d I’d see you as a rabid monster that would need to be put down?” His voice had raised and he looked expectantly at you. You lowered your head. When no response all he could do was stare, his hands shaking uncontrollably by his sides. “You actually thought that? How could you believe that I would be so cruel to you?”

You stepped forward, your shame being replaced by a newfound anger. “Well, how would I know? Your moral compass is so all over the place I don’t know what you’re thinking half of the time. I have no idea what you would’ve done!”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper. “I never would have done that.” He met your gaze. “Not to you.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Those words were all you’ve ever needed to hear — but they weren’t enough, not now. “Why would you care?” you asked.

He threw you an annoyed look. “You’re really going to have me say it?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, taking a deep breath before looking out the window, avoiding your gaze. He mumbled something and you had to strain to be able to hear it.

“What was that?” You couldn’t keep the amusement from creeping into your voice. You both knew it — felt it hanging heavy in the air. Strange hadn’t done this before, the whole “feelings ordeal”, and it made him feel incredibly vulnerable. He clenched his jaw, stepping closer to you so you were almost chest to chest. You could feel his chest rise in deep breaths. He lowered his head to beside your ear, his hot breath fanning over it. You felt shivers traveling down your spine and had to close your eyes to fight against the urge to fall into him.

“I don’t know,” he said, “what was that?” You could hear the annoying know-it-all tone creeping into his voice, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re impossible,” you bit out.

“You love it.”

“I love you,” you whispered. He smiled and leaned even closer to you, if it was even possible.

“I love you too,” Strange whispered back.

[cartmankisser]

Yummy anon here to request more mike bc I love the way u write him omg 😭💕💕

could u do fluff alphabet b, d, l and j 🙏 ilyily

THANK U FOR THE COMPLIMENTS SWEETIE THEY REALLY MEAN A LOT TO ME!!!!!

i do have an unfinished draft of his whole alphabet, but im posting these first for u 🫶🫶

reblogs > likes

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

he probably admires how loving you are!! he knows he's a handful, but you always stick around with him to shower him in affection, and it always makes him feel so special!

i mean you must be verryyy special in order to make a cold and non-human creature like a vampire feel so warm and fuzzy inside!

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

LMAO IM GIGGLING AT THIS ONE he's definitely gonna outgrow his vamp kid phase eventually and cringe about it, but the prompt says how he pictures his future, and not what it's actually gonna be like 😭

"He'd have this stupid idea that he'll become vampire king at some point with you as his queen/king by his side slaughtering all the goths and turning everyone into vampires. Or at least that's the fanfiction he wrote lmao" - @okchijt

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

i think mike is definitely protective over you! with how many people hate him and the vamp kids, he just can't help keeping an eye out for you!!

like he's the type of boyfriend to be all like "umm is he bothering you honey? 🤨"

so um yeah,, he gets jealous pretty damn easily!! he just wants to make sure that you're safe and comfortable!! and not leaving him for someone else who's popular and cooler than him,,

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

i actually wrote a whole piece for something like this,, but um tl;dr he would do something really big and dramatic!! he wants everyone to see how totally cool and confident he is!!!

but also? i can totally see him as the type of person to just,,, never ask you out,,??

like he'd just slowly let the friendship evolve to a relationship. one day he just started putting his arm around your shoulders, and that turned into to cuddling and hand holding, and that turned into kissing and pet names, but like?? you two never officially declared anything 😭

[tragedieds]

alt title: i can’t believe i’ve never done one of these before

 i’m off hiatus! i’ll be slowly... u know... becoming more active on here and on discord as the days go on but this week was so rough. some good news: i somehow got 322 followers while on hiatus and i finally figured out what my next wip after tve is gonna be.

as for. u know. these violent ends:

i reached 50k! or, well. i will tonight. i’m not strictly following a three act structure until i start editing but i do feel the midpoint is coming and fast which means everything is going to become so awful so quickly

midpoint also means soon there won’t be any more fynn chapters bc :( u know. dead

i have to really think abt how im gonna pull this off bc fynn’s death and the reveal of who murders him has to be kind of the twist that sets off the third act and it has to be at just the right place. this reveal is smth i need to be as good as possible from draft one, even though no one else is rly gonna see it until draft two. its IMPORTANT TO ME OK!!!

it’s 208 pages double-spaced without any manuscript formatting. Big

i refuse to go back and edit 50k just yet but i do think there needs to be some massive pov edits. i keep writing in third person for fynn and present tense for ren, and they both work a lot better than what i have now

FYNN FINALLY SAID FUCK, 207 PAGES AND 49K IN 

there’s someone in fynn’s chapters who he has an unfathomable amount of chemistry with, which is very annoying bc that's not supposed to be a thing. anyway fellas is it gay to trust another man with both you and the girl you have a crush on’s lives? 🤔

i had some ppl ask me about this like a month ago: i don’t intend to publish these violent ends anywhere or query it. the only other people who’ll probably ever read it in its entirety are some betas, but this wip is for me, it’s very experimental and personal (and rn in its first draft form, borderline incomprehensible). i really only need to get it to a state where i’m happy with it. will it never see the light of day?? idk. maybe! but i don’t see myself debuting with it

i also promised some out of context lines i like so those are below the cut. sometimes first draft not totally Awful?

I raise corpses from their deathbeds. I consider nothing.

A woman possessed, metamorphosing into a creature she didn’t recognize, one that answered the dark, seductive calls of the things that housed themselves under shadows.

If you cannot run from fate, then bend it to your will.

If she had been marked by Death, then so had Yael. They were two sides of one rotting coin, both inimitable and terrifying.

He’d burrowed his way into her bones, took hold of her heart and declared himself an equal. Someone who understood. And she’d been foolish enough to believe him.

and my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE SENTENCES:

It seemed he liked to fuck with her. That was fine. She could fuck back.

[florence-is-gay]

hello! i hope you’re doing well :D i saw your pinned post about writing requests, so i’d like to request some lovesick headcanons? like how do they act when they’re just HEAD OVER HEALS for a crush, or their s/o, whatever’s fine. thank u :D

Hm, i more doing reader x merc oneshots but i like this ask so I'll give it a try!

Scout -

He's crazy dummy stupid. He loves u. Always utters complete nonsense when you're around cause he can't think straight. U make his head spin! He'll share his Bonk with you, and even show u his baseball card collection (very special!! No one else gets to see it!!). He gets so lost in your eyes, when you talk he just can't help hang off your every word like a lifeline! He loves u so much but he doesn't know how to express Just How Much he's in love with u!! Sometimes he cries when he thinks about u, but only in secret.

Medic -

He's a mad lunatic!! You're on his mind every second of the day! Some nights he can't sleep because your smile is ingrained into the folds of his brain! He'll sing and play his violin to you because he knows You're The One!! He writes songs about you, but he thinks you don't know that you are the very subject of his dreams!! He's crazy for u!! U are the reason he's so motivated to come to work and Do His Best every single day! He keeps a photo of the two of u in his office 😊

Engineer -

This man is in deep! He's always flustered when you're around, his face just redder than a cute lil tomato! He'll invite u over for home cooked meals on the regular! He'll make fun lil gadgets for you as a gift! Always super kind and polite. U always make his day! Your laugh is like a pure melody in his ears! He thinks about u every single second cause u drive him to LOVE TOWN!!

Demo -

Aye, this un's a MAD LAD. You make him feel buzzed, even when he's completely sober! He's always got an arm around u whenever the two of you are together! He tells u all his crazy stories bc he loves to see u smile and laugh. If this man catches u snoozing, u can bet ur ass he gonna bring u a pillow and a blanket! Unless ur location is not good for sleeping, then he'll gently move u somewhere quiet n comfy! You've left lipstick stains on his left side brain 💋

Spy -

Who thought u would be the one to make his shriveled heart shake? This gentleman is ALL romance! He's not afraid to express his interest! Expensive gifts? Check. Love letters and poems? Check! Bouquets of flowers? Gestures of affection and overly dramatic declarations of his love? Check, check, and CHECK! He'll backstab some bitches 4 u!! Hell, he'd even put out his cigarette to listen to u talk!! He wants to give u his undivided attention!

Soldier -

This man's heart jumps higher than his rockets when he sees u! The man that's normally loud and rambunctious is always on his best behavior whenever you're around! Though he also tends to get a bit protective over u! His thoughts of u motivate him to fight harder in battle! This man takes orders from NOBODY, but he'll do anything u ask in a heartbeat!! He'll call u "sweetheart" and "cupcake" and he'll mean it!

Sniper -

He's got a target on his heart, and Cupid's made a bullseye! He's got a bad case of tunnel vision, but only for u!! He doesn't talk much, but when you're around, he never shuts up! He always takes good care of his hygiene, because he doesn't want to be stinky around u. He blushes a lot when u talk to him, and he just can't stop smiling!! He sees constellations in your eyes, and every time he sees the stars he thinks of u!!

Heavy -

For a man of his stature, he sure gets flustered easily! He can't help how he feels, his heart is overflowing with love for u!! He always listens to what u have to say, and when u look a lil under the weather he'll bring u snacks and ask whats on ur mind!! He cares about u and wants u to know that U R SPECIAL!! He'll even let you touch his gun!!

Pyro -

This lil firebug is so full of love, he can hardly contain it!! He's bursting with sunshine and rainbows every second ur around! He hides his face when u compliment him, bc he's just so happy!! He will frequently give u Big Warm Squishy Hugs, because he wants to make sure u get all the affection you deserve!! He brings u all sorts of candy, but especially the ones he knows u like!! He also likes to draw pictures of u, but only in secret!! (It's super embarrassing...!) Gasoline used to be what fueled his fire, but you've set his heart ABLAZE!!

That is all!! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this, it's been sitting in my drafts for a while 😅

Edit: Make sure to tell me which one was ur fave to read!!

[joshuas]

never doing that again

♫ pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (slytherin Hyunjin x gryffindor reader)

♫ genre: Hogwarts au, fluff, 

♫ word count: 1.4k

♫ warnings: mentions of witchcraft - nothing serious, though!

♫ a/n: So I did my research, and of the three sources I looked at, Hyunjin was placed in Slytherin by a majority of fans, so please don’t @/me! However, I’d like to reaffirm that people are multifaceted and houses aren’t an accurate representation of their entire personality >.<. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I really enjoyed writing it!

Y/L/N = your last name

“We need to stop meeting in closets. Honestly, you’d think we’d be able to find the room of requirement at the least for our ‘catch-ups.’” You huffed, as you stumbled out of a broom closet, alongside your boyfriend, Hyunjin. “Don’t pretend that you don’t like the proximity. It does make things easier.” Hyunjin smirked, fixing up his rumpled uniform. “I— Whatever.” You crinkled your nose in disgust, rolling your eyes at his slightly crude innuendo. “We should probably get out of here before a prefect comes and hounds us. I’ll see you in charms tomorrow?” He glanced around and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, see...”

Conglomerated incantations echoed throughout the charms classroom. You should’ve been paying attention, yet there you were, trying to ignore yet another quite animated debate with your fellow Gryffindors, Felix and Jisung, and avoiding Hyunjin’s heavy gaze over the three of you. “Look, if you don’t admit that you’re so obviously in the wrong, I’m just about ready to use... what was it that we learnt today? Oh, alarte ascendare on you. That’s right, you’ll levitate high in the air.” Jisung threatened, fumbling his wand out of his robes. “Not to rain on your parade, but it looks like a certain Slytherin is just about ready to do that to both of us. You alright there, Hwang?” Felix turned towards the slightly-glowering Hyunjin. “Me? Oh, I’m just peachy. You guys on the other hand look like you’re bothering Y/N.” He gestured towards you as you gave him a puzzled look. “Oh? Sorry, Y/N...” Jisung and Felix turned to you, eyes regretful. “Wait. Why do you care, Hyunjin? It’s not like you’re dating them.” Jisung said quizzically as Hyunjin blushed, “U-us? Dating? Hah! That’s ridiculous. Can you imagine? I’d never date them. Even if we were the last people on earth.” Your heart ached at his instant shut-down and denial. Hyunjin came from a line of pure-blooded Slytherin witches and wizards —— ones that prided themselves and their offspring of being in Slytherin. So, it was unsurprising that as a Gryffindor, dating a slytherin of such background, you two had to keep your relationship on the down low. However, you were getting frustrated at how long Hyunjin wanted to keep the two of you a secret. How much longer did Hyunjin need? Was he ashamed of your relationship? Pushing aside your feelings of hurt, you resolved yourself and headed out of the classroom. Hyunjin slipped past you, dropping a note in the pocket of your robes. Meet me outside the Slytherin common room after dinner. — H Odd. That was the last response you had expected of him.

Your heart pounded against your chest as you snuck down to the Slytherin common room. A draft of cool air sent shivers up your spine as you approached Hyunjin, his blonde hair glimmering under the dimly lit dungeon. As he spotted you from afar, his eyes widened, then quickly stuffing his hands into his pockets, attempting to create an air of unnatural nonchalance, “Y-you came.” “Of course I did.” You said passively, crossing your arms. “Okay, so I was thinking and—,” he stopped short of himself, as he noted the obvious goosebumps hugging your arms, “Oh. You’re cold.” “Gee, thanks for the stating the obvious. Are you going to invite me in, or are we going to have our secret rendezvous in the corridor?” You gestured towards the painting blocking your entrance to the common room. “Oh! Of course, come in.” He let out an awkward laugh, quickly leading you into the common room. Settling yourself onto the plush couch overlooking the crackling fire, a stark contrast to the cold dungeon-esque corridor, you glanced at Hyunjin. You could see the flames reflecting in his guarded eyes as he wrung his hands nervously. You cleared your throat, “So... you’d never date me? Even if we were the last people on earth?” Guilt marred Hyunjin’s features, as he averted his eyes, “You know I never mean any of those things.” “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt every time you deny our relationship. Am I not good enough for you? Am I less important than your reputation? Your status?” Words gushed out, your throat constricting as you struggled to hold the tears in your at bay. Hyunjin’s eyes softened, pulling you into a tight embrace, running his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner as you buried your face into his chest. Shame bubbled in your gut, cursing yourself for the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cry. I hate crying in front of people.” Focusing on your breathing in an attempt to calm down, you inhaled his comforting scent. Your emotions placating slowly at the familiar aroma. Pressing his forehead against yours, he wiped at your tears, “I admire you, Y/N. You constantly face your demons head on. But me? I just cower in the corner, ignoring my problems. I’m too scared, Y/N. I’m scared to have to choose between you and my family. I’m scared I’ll lose it all... I’m scared I’ll lose you. I can’t risk losing the person I love most.” “You idiot, you’re making me cry again.” You laughed weakly, lightly smacking his chest. “Well, I mean it, Y/N. I love you.” He lifted your chin, leaning in, closing his eyes as the featherlight touch of his lips grazed against yours, a loud bang jolting the two of you, as the two of you sprang apart, dazed. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You looked up to see a slightly shocked Changbin. “Hyung, can you leave? Please.” Hyunjin groaned, running his hand over his face. “Yah! You don’t own the common room. You go find somewhere else to continue your romantic confessions of love. Actually, it didn’t look like you were doing much talking...” Changbin smirked as the two of you rolled your eyes. “Oh my goodness. Just leave.” Changbin laughed whilst jokingly protesting as Hyunjin herded him out of the room, chucking cushions at him. “Hey, Hyunjin?” You murmured as he sat back down, “I love you too.” You smiled, kissing him slowly, as the two of you drifted into your own world.

Yawning for the fiftieth time that morning as you mindlessly spread butter on your toast, your mind flickering back to the events that took place last night. “Sounds like you didn’t get much sleep, Y/N.” Jisung noted. Your eyes met Hyunjin’s momentarily from the opposite side of the room, your cheeks burning as you quickly averted your eyes. “Oi, Hwang and Y/L/N. Changbin was just telling me about how he walked in on you two last night.” Chan yelled from across the hall, “Are you two finally dating, or what?” “Okay first of all. We weren’t doing anything innately scandalous. I literally just kissed them.” Hyunjin retorted, as he walked over to join you at your table. He grabbed your hand, clearing the dishes in front of you and stepped onto the table, pulling you up as well. You stared at Hyunjin, your face starting to burn from the upcoming cringe, Is he really going to do this? “And to answer your question!” His voice echoed throughout the quietened hall, “I love Y/N with all my heart. So, yes, we are dating!” Loud cheers arose around the room as people approached and congratulated you, as the two of you sat back down. Jisung scowled, “Damn it! I’ve lost 30 galleons thanks to you two.” He exclaimed in frustration as Felix cackled in joy at the other boy’s misfortune. “Of course you two had a bet about us getting together.” You rolled your eyes at them, as they started to bicker. Turning to Hyunjin, his burning face covered by his hands, you gently pulled him into an embrace, “I’m really proud of you, Hyunjin. You say you’re not courageous, and although it was... definitely unexpected, cringy and... unconventional, what you just did was probably more courageous than anything I’ve done.” “Well, although that was probably the most mortifying thing I’ve ever done, Y/N, you give me courage.” He raised your hands to his lips, softly kissing it . “Next time you do a tabletop declaration of love, could you give me a little bit more warning?” You teased. “Oh no. I’m never doing that again.”

...

update (a/n): 27/10

So, I came across this whilst online, and thought I’d share:

He’s in slytherin robes :(((((

✿ masterlist!

[savrenim]

hi hi hi. so I just got into the Hamilton fandom, I swear I am four years late where did everybody go, and, well. I am apparently a hamburr shipper. bcs that is my life now. anyway I saw your fic ifmlam and I swear it is my favourite of all the fics I've ever read (and trust me I've read literally thousands). I love it so so much, how do you write fics like that??? I cried about four times during the whole thing, I stayed up till 4am reading it even when I had to wake up at 7 because it is just. that. good. I could not stop thinking about it for days afterwards and ifmlam has just ruined me. I can't think of listen to Hamilton without thinking of ifmlam anymore.

on to my qursttion: is it abandoned? of course it's perfectly FINE if it is. don't let anyone tell u differently, your fic is YOURS and u are amazing.

but pls I really need closure from ur fic, it has been haunting me if its abandoned or ongoing and I've read ur other fics and they are just chefskiss and thank you so much for writing them all. thank you thank you thank you, I will never be able to thank you enough for writing this fic and for everything it's done for me. I am probably thousands of miles away but I am sending you virtual jugs through a co.puter screen right now.

(don't feel pressured to reply to this or update it flam, I know how overwhelming it can get with so many messages and after a while u get desensitized to it. u can literally reply "thx. itfmlam is abandoned" and I would still be amazingly star struck. anyway has gotten way too long and I need to sleep and I'm sorry u probably won't see this so I'm just talking to myself right now but bye!!)

and thank you so so much for writing itfmlam.

aaaah hello anon!

thank you so so much???? I am so??? honored??? that ifmlam rates so highly to you, and also that you've read my other fics??????

the answer to the "is ifmlam abandoned" question is probably the worst possible one, which is pretty much "I do want to finish it, both for the folks that still want closure as well as it bothers to me have abandoned projects that are in the public eye/ already partially published, but also, it is last on my current writing projects list"

my current actually active writing projects list, kind of in order of priority, is

I'm literally three chapters away from being Actually Fully Done with the not-quite-first-not-quite-second let's call it 1.5th draft of an actual?? full?? original?? novel?? Opus which of course then goes out to beta readers and then gets who-knows-how-much edited and then maybe beta readers again if a lot does change and then a copyeditor my mom, my copyeditor is my mom, and maybe my little brother he's one of the betas but is very good at catching typos and then I!!! get to publish it!!!! which is the single thing I am most excited for!!!!!!!!! this should be closed up in the next week or two, and then take a while for people to actually read the draft and get back to me.

I really desperately want to finish my open-but-like-90%-written fic, which means we raise it up, the final chapter of to the bottom of the river bc I realized that it was kind of incomplete, and the second chapter of a buried and a burning flame because any more work there will need to wait until the author publishes the next book in the series. this should be closed up in the next month or two.

Speedwrite the draft of the second book of the Opus series so that hopefully by the time book 1 edits are happening, I have an almost complete draft of the second book. this is mostly me side-eyeing myself about taking nearly four years to write the first book, but that is solidly in part because I had so many other open projects which point 2 is about clearing that docket. this should be done in the next year.

And then just have my major projects be, at least until books 1-5 are written and published, books 1-5 of that because that is arguably the first major 'plot arc' of the series, so if I'm looking for a pause point on writing, that's probably where to stop.

There are two or three other short side projects (a weird fun second person short story tentatively titled witch-queen, a collection of four short stories Memoirs about a not-so-evil necromancer and the shenanigans he gets up to trying to rule a kingdom, working title Perfectly Normal Recipe Blog which is a collaborative project about a perfectly normal recipe blog that definitely doesn't include anything out of the normal) that will happen when they happen

There are other projects that are on the backburner -- The Numanok Files, a series of probably 12-15 short novellas about a mercenary/ bounty hunter esque person in space whose specialty is dealing with hauntings, but, like, 80% of their jobs is actually "you are effectively a space home inspector pointing out faulty wiring reacting to solar flares/ there's a weird alien fungus/ it's carbon monoxide okay change your atmosphere filters" and 20% of it is punching ghosts; there's a post-post apocalypse novel that I want to write that I know characters and general pacing and half the setting but need to work out the other half and figure out how much aesthetic I want to commit to; there's Strangeside7 aka spacerace book that is my reaction to how much I love how Redline the anime movie commits itself to "no we are about a race, like 60% of the screentime is just fully going to be an utterly ridiculous sci fi space race"; there's even a ridiculous YA trilogy that I would have to completely transplant the setting but might end up writing because the interplay between angel-physics and physics-physics was one of my favorite things in the world. and I guess the weird ridiculous technically a sequel series to ifmlam that was going to be published as original books that was basically me having fun with 'okay I fucking love star wars prequels old rotting space bureaucracy galactic republic style' except with seers and that also still might happen because it does have some of the coolest sci fi concepts and honestly I thiiiink that's all?

but the tl;dr of that timeline is I'm trying to finish a punch of projects Right Now, so that I can write books 2-5 of Opus, and then when I'm done that (which honestly, my average fiction-writing output is close to 100k a year. if I'm concentrating purely on one project, and writing books that are about 100k, we are talking four years. although my job situation is super up in the air in that period and writing might get put solidly on the backburner as I try to make it in academia, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I will re-evaluate which projects go next, and that's when ifmlam is likely to come up for review.

I do not have any expectations that I will make it as an original author. I'm planning on posting all of my stuff online for free, but, like. it is incredibly difficult to convince people to try out even a piece of free and easily accessibly original work even if one has a huge following, I am a very small fanfiction author, and from what I can tell the majority of the people who are interested in my work are mostly interested in me finishing ifmlam. writing is a hobby for me, and while I'm writing mostly for me--and hence the for me bit at least for the next five years is pretty solidly going to be this series that I am deeply excited about and have sunk my heart and soul into every single aspect of--I'm human, and I don't really like shouting into the void, and I expect if I spend five years publishing to absolutely no response I will either stop writing for a while and do other things gods know my life is busy enough, return to fandom in general to write some other fanfic about whatever I get deeply into, or return to a work that I actually get response to. so ifmlam will probably start getting worked on a bit at that point one way or another. unless, of course, we are in the incredibly rare timeline in which I do make it as an original author, there are people who are deeply hyped for my original works and an actual demand for them, in which case as you may have noticed there are enough ideas there to keep me busy for a decade or two, and they will just get my full attention instead of fanfiction*. in this timeline, I will do what I was considering doing a few years ago, which is officially declare ifmlam otherwise abandoned and make one more giant chapter update which is a full and cleaned up outline of what I was going to write, interspersed with the scenes already written, and have ifmlam be given at least that closure.

*I want to make it clear that I very much love fanfiction and am proud to have been a fanfiction author and in my heart of hearts would keep writing it forever, I just also have a lot of ideas for characters and settings and magic systems and Aesthetics and I have been biting at the bit to write something that is //mine// and all mine and only mine for a while, I don't see original work as superior so much as there are a dozen fandoms that I am currently in and bursting to make content about except oops these fandoms currently only exist in my head, and I want to correct that

of course given how much as writing is my vent activity and I write what I'm in the mood for, there's a chance I'll feel ifmlam cravings before then, just... expect it to take a couple of years for an update, but also for there to be an update one way of another in a couple of years? but as for right now, I'm turning to original writing, because that is what brings me joy.

but I am really deeply honored that it brought you so much joy!!! and while I will never publish spoilers in a public place, if you message me off anon I am perfectly happy to give a run-down of my current plans for the ending, bc I know "wait a couple years and see" is not the most satisfactory of answers! and hey maybe you'll be like me and once you've given Opus a try you'll decide you like it better too, it does have Seers although they are deeply different Seers than in ifmlam but imo it's very gay and fun and at least politics on one side

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 9

The Slaying of the Bobbledragon

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Since slaying a serial-killer dragon is a little outside the party's expertise, they're off to Cauterdale to enlist the aid of the Deathseekers' Guild! Having gotten a good night's sleep at a druid village, and not eaten, they're ready to take on, uh...

Well, some sort of very large monster that Zero kindly drew for me.

In the morning, they rather uneventfully get up and get back on the road, thanking the villagers for their hospitality. And the remainder of the trip to Cauterdale is likewise brief and uneventful, right up until the fire.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: the what Benedict I. (GM): The fire.

Yeah, the forest and the road up ahead are ablaze, sort of blocking passage. The dirt road isn't actively on fire, but the trees on both sides are, making it pretty risky to proceed. The team opts to send Oyobi up ahead to scout the situation- and pretty soon she comes back with a report. Apparently, just past the visible fireline, the forest is totally burned down- just charred stumps as far as she could see, right up to the city walls. The fire itself is just, like, 10 meters wide or so, so it's totally something they could just dash through.

It takes some Animal Handling checks to coax the giraffes through, and the ones that balk get them and their riders a little bit of chip damage from heat and smoke inhalation, but the party is pretty much able to push through to the blasted wasteland of charred tree stumps surrounding Cauterdale.

They notice a few people in strange armor in the distance, doing something near the fire- from the seemingly controlled nature of this burn and the name of the town, they conclude that those are fire squads doing this deliberately, and don't get involved. It's a fine conclusion, and the party begins walking the remaining mile to the city.

As they approach, they notice... a little ways off from the main gates, something is attacking the city walls. Guards atop the walls are manning some sort of huge harpoon guns, and they seem to have already slain several of the... whatever these things are. The remaining one, though, seems larger and more resilient than the others, continuing its assault despite the several harpoons already lodged in its flesh.

What they see is a huge reptilian monster. It's probably not a dragon- no wings, and it doesn't appear to be using a breath weapon- but it's the size of a dragon, with tiny arms, headbutting the metal walls of the town repeatedly.

Orluthe makes his Nature roll to recognize this thing- he's heard of them before. They're called "bobbledragons"- some sort of deformed mutant offshoot of true dragons, incapable of speech or flight or magic but still possessed of monstrous strength and durability.

Luckily, the bobbledragon doesn't seem to be in between them and the main gate- the fight is far enough away that they could potentially just walk up and head into town, assuming they'll open the gates during a situation like this. Hell, they don't even need to open the gates- if the guards just drop a rope, they should be able to just climb over. That seems like a decent plan, so Saelhen and Looseleaf begin working together to draft a use of the Message spell to ask the guards to help them inside.

Then they notice that I've been moving Oyobi's token on the map in the direction of the fight.

Oyobi, blinded by bloodlust and/or extra-credit-in-Severe-Zoology-lust, is determined to help fell the bobbledragon. Their attempts at persuasion fail, and Oyobi, undeterred, continues to charge the giant fucking T-rex that is making huge dents in the walls of a city.

As Oyobi runs for it, and as the party follows behind in hopes of stopping her from making a terrible mistake, the bobbledragon jumps and seizes one of the guards on the wall in its jaws, demonstrating its +10 4d12+7 bite attack by immediately oneshotting its victim.

Looseleaf: oh god we're all going to die. you're using the real t-rex statblock. that thing is challenge eight. it is made for a party of four level eight adventurers, so either we are all going to die here, or the guards are going to show us why they are professional fighters and we are students. Benedict I. (GM): "Shit! It can jump!" "No!" The guards seem upset.

Not promising.

Looseleaf: This thing does sufficient damage to oneshot any of us with a perfectly mediocre hit. Looseleaf right now is kind of thoroughly convinced that Oyobi is actually literally about to die. In that light, Looseleaf is going to message Oyobi again. And she is not going to get any closer. Actually, she's going to back off, put distance between herself and the monster. [Oyobi that thing is going to bite you in half get back here you are going to die.] Benedict I. (GM): Roll Persuasion! DC 20 again. -Looseleaf: 17 / PERSUASION (1)- Oyobi Yamatake: [I'M GONNA LIVE FOREVER!!!]

So... that's a bust, and Oyobi finally reaches the dragon and begins her assault. Miraculously, her flying leap hits, and she digs her sword in... for thirteen damage.

The guards return fire against the bobbledragon, and one of the harpoons catches it in the chest- but it doesn't go down, and the second harpoon- manned by just one guard, after his partner got crunched- misses. Another guard, without a cannon, throws a spear- and gets not only a critical hit, but a max damage critical hit, spearing the thing right in the eye.

...for eleven damage, because these are ordinary CR 1/8 Guards, but still!

Saelhen tries to distract the bobbledragon so Oyobi can run and hide, but... her arrow goes wide, and Oyobi isn't interested in running and hiding anyway. The bobbledragon, targeting whatever did the most damage to it recently with its bite attack, jumps and bites the whole damn harpoon gun out of the guard tower, leaving the guards without heavy weaponry.

And then with its tail, it tries to slap the insect that just stung it in the rear.

...and rolls a 3, meaning Oyobi gracefully backflips over the attack and strikes a dramatic pose.

Looseleaf: God, she did not deserve that dodge. She got so fucking lucky there. Saelhen du Fishercrown: she really didn't Oyobi Yamatake: "When you get to Dragon Hell, tell them Oyobi Yamatake sent you!!"

Looseleaf, in the interest of communicating to Oyobi how much danger she's in, makes use of an upgrade to her Rend Spirit attack she learned while studying Lumiere's notes on pain. With Painread, she can get some feedback back from something whose spirit she disrupts, and figure out exactly how bad a shape it's in. She does so (dealing a cool 16 damage as she does), and learns how huge this thing's remaining hit point pool is, so she can tell Oyobi how unlikely she is to survive long enough to take it down.

...It, uh, it was already pretty hurt when they arrived, and it, um, has nine hit points left. And it's Oyobi's turn.

Oyobi Yamatake: Oyobi dashes forwards, Naruto-runs up to the T-rex's throat, and does a spinning leap that slashes open its jugular. It roars, and the roar swiftly fades off as its breath escapes. Saelhen du Fishercrown: God dammit, Oyobi. Oyobi Yamatake: "YES! YES! B-S-U! B-S-U! B-S-U!" "THAT is how it's DONE!" She is jumping up and down, doing a celebratory dance, the works. "Flawlessed the boss! Hell yeah!"

Yeah, so... I had kind of been planning on her getting oneshot and laid up in the hospital, as a sort of character growth thing and also keeping her out of the way of certain events in town, but, uh... the dice... didn't exactly... share my priorities.

With the bobbledragon slain, and Oyobi doing an extremely obnoxious victory dance, the rest of the party springs into action to stabilize the guard who was used as a chew toy. Thanks to his plate armor, he hasn't lost much blood, but he's got more broken bones than not, and his prognosis wouldn't be good... if it weren't for the healer's kits Looseleaf had the foresight to buy for everyone. Saelhen stabilizes him, and Orluthe calls on his goddess to Lay On Hands to save the guard's life.

Then there's this guy- the captain of the guard, who fought in the battle with a fancy crossbow that shot flaming bolts. He demands to know who the party is, seeming kind of annoyed that they rewarded weakness by saving the guard's life.

Benedict I. (GM): He looks down at your medical kit. "Y'know, all of my men are prepared to fight and die for our home. You really want to take away this man's glory?" The injured guard looks up. "Uh, sir, I- it's fine, actually..." "Feh." Looseleaf: This guy immediately seems like a bad boss. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh, he's ridiculous. Okay, that changes the tenor of this conversation somewhat! "...I apologize, sir," says Saelhen, bowing to the guard on his stretcher, "if I have diminished your victory with my carelessness."

And rather than give this guy any more of the time of day, Saelhen asks the random guard his name. (And then I have to give him one and make him a character, whoops.)

Medd Cutter here is thankful for Saelhen's assistance saving his life, and Saelhen pledges to remember his heroism. The commander feels- by design- somewhat left out of the heroism-remembering, and declares that he is REX SCAR, and Saelhen kind of blows him off. He's not happy, but...

Captain Scar is still the sort of person who is very impressed with anyone who rolls up and kills a bobbledragon just because they felt like it, and despite Saelhen's calculated snub, tries to get buddy-buddy with the group of obviously very powerful people who just arrived. He decides to help them through customs without going through the usual processes, much to the chagrin of...

...Long-Tongue, Cauterdale Customs and Border Inspection Officer of Cauterdale, who's very loquacious and wordy and redundantly repeats what she says in different words to phrase things differently in a somewhat unnecessary fashion for no real reason. Rex bullies his way past her, but Saelhen- as another snub, and just to be... nice? (What's her game...?), hands her the 300-page history of the de la Surplus family as collateral for a deferred border inspection.

Inside the walls, Cauterdale is a very crowded place. It's like 80% slum, choked with buildings constructed of a patchwork of scrap metal and discarded siding, without much wood to speak of. The streets are narrow and bustling, and the general vibe around the place is impatient.

The remaining guards escorting them (Rex went off someplace) inform them, when questioned, that the town indeed burns down the forest around them- since they're near the jungle, horrible dangerous things tend to come out of the trees to attack them, and their harpoon defenses are most effective when they can see their attackers coming from a mile away, with no obstructions. Looseleaf asks if bobbledragon attacks are common.

Benedict I. (GM): Another guard shakes his head. "No, that one was pretty crazy. Usually it's just the giant spiders, or the giant mosquitoes, or the mushroom demons." "We've had a few bobbledragons before, but that was like, four at once." Looseleaf: "Oh gods there's already giant spiders?!" "We're not even at- I thought this was a pine forest still!" Benedict I. (GM): "No, that's usually after it rains," Medd says. Looseleaf: Looseleaf casts Druidcraft. Please tell me it's not going to rain. Benedict I. (GM): Nope! Clear skies for now. "Whoa, cool." Looseleaf:"Thank the gods of sea and sky and weather and everything even tangentially related to weather," she says. "No rain." "I hope it never rains, ever again." Benedict I. (GM): "Haha, better stay away from..." "Wait, where are you headed?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "The rainforest," adds Saelhen, mildly. Looseleaf: "Ttttthunderbrush, and yes I know that place is crawling with spiders NOERU SHUT UP,"

Then Looseleaf asks about what they're there for- the Deathseekers' Guild. Unfortunately, the guards tell them that the Deathseekers... probably still exist, but they're like, a weird secret club of old people who think they're too cool to join the guard. They give them a couple leads- apparently the Temple of Andra keeps tabs on them, and also a guard by the name of Mags was the last to see them as they were recently seen leaving the city.

The team splits up- Looseleaf and Orluthe head for the temple, and Oyobi and Saelhen head for the guardhouse to talk to Mags. (Vayen... is still gone, after vanishing as soon as the bobbledragon fight started.) The latter group does their thing next session, so...

After dropping off their rental giraffes, they head inside to meet...

This guy, working the reception desk. He seems to be made of rock, and when he talks he rumbles.

As Looseleaf explains their dilemma and their need for Deathseekers, this guy takes a keen interest in their plight. He's very "hmmmm, iiiiiinteresting, oh i see, you don't say?" about the whole thing, making a very normal interaction seem as ominous as possible.

He tells her that the Deathseekers, to his knowledge, should be back in the city from their unspecified errand inside two days, and offers to take a message.

Looseleaf: "I don't suppose they're looking for a green dragon, are they?" Benedict I. (GM): This guy's smile keeps getting wider. It's kind of creepy. "Hm? What makes you say that?"

As she explains about the dragon, he offers her and Orluthe a candy from a bowl on the desk. After some hemming and hawing out-of-character because the creepy rock man is offering you suspicious candy, they eventually opt to have some, because really, Looseleaf isn't suspicious of this guy. Hers is lemon-flavored. It's tasty.

Then, as she describes the empty tower with the corpse of the torture wizard in it, this guy's demeanor changes suddenly from "creepy wry amusement" to "genuine concern". He tries to put on a poker face, but him having a poker face when he's until now been all creepy-friendly chewing the scenery... stands out. He gives her a strong assurance that the Deathseekers will handle this problem for her.

Benedict I. (GM): "I... thank you, for this information." Looseleaf: "You're welcome. Please, uh, make sure that the Deathseekers get this information as quickly as possible. The dragon eats a corpse a week and there's only three corpses left in the tower, there's a very real deadline on this." Benedict I. (GM): [rolling 1d20+4] (Insight) 17+4 = 21 Looseleaf: Belatedly, Looseleaf realizes she's made a mistake. Benedict I. (GM): "You say... the dragon eats three corpses a week?" "Only three corpses left in the tower?" Looseleaf: Namely: Looseleaf has no good reason to know the fact that the dragon eats a corpse a week. Since she's never met the dragon. Benedict I. (GM): "Curious information." "How did you come across it?" Looseleaf: "Uh, erm, uh." Shit.

Looseleaf opts to tell the truth about Arnie, to avoid spinning a dangerous web of lies for herself- after all, Arnie's not worth lying for. She does describe him in as sympathetic terms as she can, though, and asks this guy not to harm him if possible- she doesn't want to break her word to Arnie if she can help it.

Benedict I. (GM): He takes a moment to process this. "...Very well." "My people will be the soul of discretion." "I thank you very much for your generous contribution to the Ecumene of Understanding."

Looseleaf notices that something is wrong.

This guy is the receptionist. He's not a bishop or anything. He's not even wearing priestly vestments- just a nice suit. And he's speaking as though he's in a position of power- "my people", he says.

And after considering various possibilities, she tries something. A shot in the dark, but...

And the way Looseleaf plays this, is... "quit acting like you don't know what I'm talking about, c'mon, the jig is up". She takes out the letter she found in Lumiere's tower and shows it off, as proof!

And this guy keeps denying it, and getting increasingly more panicked, and looking nervously over at Orluthe, and asking her to please stop, shh shh shh shh, and it's when he begs her to have a conversation with him in private please that she makes the connection. If this guy is affiliated with Lumiere, who's apparently affiliated with some sort of secret conspiracy that's affiliated with some sort of deific usurpation... he maybe doesn't want to have that conversation in front of a cleric.

Looseleaf:"Okay, Orluthe, uhm. Sorry, so," Looseleaf whispers into Orluthe's ear. "Long story short, turns out my sister, who left my village way before I did, ended up falling into some kind of magical secret society. The kind of secret society with Hal Lumiere, i.e. 'the torture wizard who came up with all those pain knives that we all got stabbed a lot with', was apparently a very active member of." Benedict I. (GM):Oh my god, um. Looseleaf: "So, uh, I'm kinda freaking out about that, right now, but if my hunches are right then I'm the sister of someone important in their organization?" Benedict I. (GM): As you start whispering, he tries to interrupt. "Please do not say things to him!" "Please let us speak in private!!" Looseleaf: Oh he's freaked out now huh. "Anyways that's why I am actually indeed going to speak, with this guy, in private," Looseleaf finishes. "And if I don't show up in a half-hour or so, then things have probably gone lopsided." "In which case you should find everyone else and tell them to, I dunno, come save me or whatever." "You got all that?" Benedict I. (GM): The rock man looks distraught. Orluthe Chokorov: "I, uh... think so? This is really... I'm not sure it's safe..."

With a good Persuasion roll, Orluthe agrees to stay behind, and the rock man leads Looseleaf into a backroom whose doors and walls seem warded heavily with some sort of abjuration magic. A secret saferoom.

The man describes the problem: the gods don't know that they exist, or didn't until Looseleaf went and told a cleric of Diamode that they existed. Clerics, in this setting, channel divinity literally- their gods come into their heads to do magic for them, meaning anything a cleric knows is something a god can know, if they care to check.

Benedict I. (GM): "Because if the next time Diamode is in that kid, if she goes looking for that memory..." "I mean, she might not. And you didn't mention anything about our aims, so she might consider it beneath her notice." "But that, right there? That was nearly game over." "And I can't just kill you, because if I did, Yomi would end me." Looseleaf: "Yeah, I'm not incredibly foolish, I haven't actually shown anybody else Yomi's letter." "Nobody knows that Lumiere was involved with... deicidal blasphemy." "That's what this is about, right? Thereabouts, in terms of sheer magnitude and hubris?" Benedict I. (GM): He sighs. "It's not like that." "At least, it's not all like that." "The Project is... fractious." "The less you know about the project, the less you're able to carelessly blurt out about the project your cleric friends, or to anyone who tries reading your mind or tricks you into a Zone of Truth..." "The safer we all are." "With as much as you know, you're already dangerous. It'd be best for us- and you- if you dropped this. Never spoke of it to anyone."

Looseleaf points out that it's good that she found the letter, because that tower was sitting abandoned for a year- anyone could've walked in and read it, since it was lying on a bookcase in the open.

This is somehow not taken as good news- when he finds out that the letter could've potentially been read by anyone, that there was a security breach for a year...

Looseleaf: "Look, my man, next time you want to send a letter, by the way, use... use some encoding." "Don't just write things in plaintext like a chump, by the gods." Benedict I. (GM): "He was supposed to burn after reading." Saelhen du Fishercrown: he's too dead for that! Benedict I. (GM): "Wait, you said it was... out in the open?" "But he's dead?" "Either he was an idiot, or... someone else opened his mail." "Except... Yomi should've hand-delivered it, so..." "...well. We'll definitely look into it."

He brings up sending for someone to do memory magic to handle the breach- but he realizes he can't have that done to Looseleaf, because Diamode would notice if someone tampered with her cleric's memories, and someone needs to still know what's up so they can keep Orluthe away from the truth. (Plus, she figures she'd notice the inconsistencies and end up sleuthing it out again.)

Looseleaf asks if Yomi is doing well, and gets... that she's intense, and powerful, and she probably thinks she's "doing well", but... he doesn't know about happy.

Lastly, he shows Looseleaf a symbol- a blank circle, with the elvish character 人 drawn underneath. The symbols of gods are typically circles with a design inside- so the meaning of this and its relationship to the nature of the Project is fairly easy to infer.

Benedict I. (GM): "If you need to prove to someone you're in the know, without blurting out a bunch of dangerous details, this is the mark." He then eats the paper and the graphite stick he used to draw it.

Next time: Saelhen and Oyobi grill the guard Mags for information on the Deathseekers, and connections are made with powerful individuals.

[wreckofawriter]

Not Yet

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 3,270

Warnings: None

Request: Could u do something Harry Potter x reader were the marauders are alive and the reader is Harry’s gf and is as good as Dumbledore in dueling. And she was staying at Harry’s house for spring break and (Harry is still the boi who lived) Voldemort attacks them and says something like “if she wins she safe but for now I am going to take the most important thing in ur life” to Harry and he starts crying but then she out duels him and comforts Harry and Jily notices how much they love each other?

A/n: Ok so I know that the time line wouldnt exscatly be perfect for this fic but whatever I dont care. Also I'm sorry it tooks so long I had restart it because I didn't like my first draft. Anyway hope you guys enjoy!

"Harry, they're going to hate me." You groaned falling back from your sitting position on his bed to laying and burying your head in your hands.

Harry rolled his eyes smiling. "Y/n there is no possible way they are going to hate you, so stop stressing." 

You turned your head to glare at the boy who was struggling to close his suitcase, "Oh yeah because when you met my dad you weren't stressing at all." You said voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That's different," Harry defended still attempting to get the buckles on his trunk closed. 

"How is it possibly different, if anything I have it worse because you have like three dads." You pointed out.

"I don't have three dads." Harry grunted, cursing those textbooks that were making the task at hand nearly impossible.

You muttered a spell under your breath and watched as the items in his trunk shifted before the straps snapped closed neatly "You most certainly do have three dads." You iggled when he looked back up at you in amazement. 

"I forgot you could so stuff like that." He murmured making his way towards the bed. 

"Well you should try remembering." You smirked before Harry climbed on top of you meeting your lips with his. The kiss was soft sweet and short. 

"Bloody hell!" 

Harry quickly rolled off of you. 

You both blushed heavenly looking at Ron who now stood in the doorway with Hermione. 

"Sorry." You muttered looking down at you hands. 

"Thank god you were only kissing I thought you were doing other stuff for a second." A book promptly shot across  the room and hit Ron in the side of the face. He glared looking up at the beat red girl across from him "Can you stop with the no-wand spells? It's very confusing for us." 

"Speak for yourself Ronald." Hermione chipped, "They are quite brilliant in my opinion." 

"Thanks Hermione." You smiled the color trickling from your cheeks. You had always had a particular talent for performing spells without a wand. You barely touched it nowadays, you would simply do the spell without it. 

It was a "rare but exceptional gift that very few acquired" McGonagall had informed you in your first year when you had performed  a Relashio spell without a wand on your second day of charms. 

You had noticed at a very young age that you could simply read about a spell, murmur the name under your breath, envisioning the result and said result would happen. It was quite helpful for dueling and protection 

"We are leaving in a few minutes so we just came up to get you guys." Hermione explained looking at Harry's packed trunk, Hedwig placed beside it. 

"Y/n where is your stuff?" 

"Oh shit." You muttered.

"You aren't packed?" Harry asked worry covering his features. 

"I was stressing so much I forgot." You hissed under your breath closing your eyes and thinking. Finally after a few seconds you remembered the spell and murmured it quietly. 

You heard a shriek followed by "Merlin's Beard y/n can't you just pack like the rest of us, you almost killed me with your bloody broom!"

"Sorry Parvati!" You shouted back before your wand came whizzing into your hand followed by your trunk and your owl cage, your barn owl locked securely inside, and of course your broomstick which had been an unnecessarily expensive and fought against birthday present from Harry. "Packed." You smiled up at the other three.

When the four of you had finally boarded and settled on the Hogwarts Express nerves took you over once again. You found yourself tracing the scar on your hand feeling out every letter of the sentence, "I will not tell lies" engraved on your hand. You remembered Harry's fury when you had walked out of Umbridge's classroom tears pricking at your eyes as blood dripped from your hand. Fred, George and Ron had to physically hold the boy back from beating the pick monsters face in with his fists. 

Harry quickly noticed your nervous state and slide his arm around you pulling you closer. "They are going to love you y/n/n." 

You sighed and looked over at his breath-taking green eyes, "You don't know that." 

"Come on you already met Remus and he loved you." Harry said trying to comfort you. 

"Great only two more dads and a mom to impress." You said staring out the window.

"Hey look," Harry pushed your head back to meet his eyes gently, "Remus already likes you and my Dad will be easy, just tell him your a chaser and he will talk for hours. For my mom just talk about spells and all that stuff you are so bloody good at. And for Sirius just mention a few of the pranks you pulled on Malfoy and your in the clear. You are too amazing for them not to like." 

"But what if they dont think I'm good enough for you, I mean you are 'the one who lived' and everything and I'm just...me." 

Harry scoffed, "Just you? You mean the girl who has the best marks in every single class she takes. The girl who could take down there own professors when it came to dueling and knows how to perform more spells and charms without a wand than the Charms teacher does with one?" 

You blushed looking down, "I don't have the best marks in Herbology, Transfiguration or Potions." You pointed out. 

Harry sighed, "They are going to love you y/n. I just know it." 

When the train stopped at platform 9 and ¾ so did your heart. You were jumpy and anxious, you felt as if you were running on adrenaline and caffeine. 

Hermione and Ron said goodbye wishing you luck as Harry looked around for his parents on the crowded platform.  

"There they are." Harry said grabbing your hand and heading toward a man who looks stunningly like Harry and a woman with bright red hair. 

You gulped hoping you didn't look as nervous as you were. 

When you reached the couple Harry hugged both of them as you stood awkwardly to the side trying not to draw attention to yourself. 

"Mom, Dad this is the girl I told you about, y/n." Harry introduced.

You blushed a bit waving and to your surprise the women stepped toward you and brought you into a hug. 

"It's so lovely to finally meet you, we've heard so much about you from Harry." She said pulling away to look you in the eyes. 

"It's nice to meet you as well Mrs. Potter." You smiled. 

James  stuck out his hand and you shook it firmly greeting him as well. 

"Well we better head home before Sirius burns down the house." Lily sighed. 

"Its fine." James said brushing the issue away, "Moony is there too." 

You looked at Harry "Who's Moony?" You mouthed silently.

"Professor Lupin." He whispered back. 

You bit your lip hoping that he still considered you a good student. 

When you reached Harry's house your nerves were buzzing again, you could hear the thumping of your heart loud and clear as Harry opened the front door. 

You heard a loud "Harry!" Bellowed form inside the house and Harry was soon thrown into a hug by a man with long dark hair. 

"It's great to see you again." The man who you were guessing was Sirius smiled. 

"You too Sirius." You suspicions were confirmed. "Oh this is y/n." Harry said moving to the side so you were face to face with the man. 

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you, Harry has told me so much about you." You greeted sticking out your hand. 

"I could say the same for you." Sirius winked taking your hand. You glanced over at Harry whose face was tinged red and glaring at the man.

You giggled as Harry pulled you away, "You can put your stuff in my room." He chatted as he dragged you up the stairs to the first door on the right. 

When you entered you couldn't help but smile. The room was so… Harry. 

The walls were painted a vibrant crimson, he had quidditch banners and famous wizard posters plastered on the walls. There was a wooden desk in one cornor, a dresser and a double bed against the other wall. A door which you guessed lead to a closet on the other. There were two hooks in the center of the wall above the dresser. Different posters and papers were sprinkled around the hooks  where Harry had now walked over and placed his broom. 

You walked closer to the wall to find that all of the papers and posters were tickets and brackets from various quidditch matches.

"My dad always takes me to them." Harry chimed in walking closer to you. 

"That's brilliant," you nodded continuing to look at the items sprinkled on the wall. 

"How many have you been to?" Harry questioned snaking his arm around your waist as you stood admiring. 

"Oh, I haven't been to any." You shrugged turning to face the now appalled boy.

"What!?"

You shrugged again 

"Really?!" 

You nodded rolling your eyes playfully; "My dad just never took me."

"You have to come with us next time." Harry declared. 

"I'd love too." You smirked leaning in to kiss the boy. Your lips had barley brushed his when you were interrupted by the bang of a door. 

"Harry dinners ready…" Sirius' voice trailed off when he saw the position of your red faces. He smirked, Harry once again glaring at him.

"We're coming." Harry growled cheeks matching his walls. 

"You are now?" Sirius jeered before descending down the stairs. 

The second he was out of sight you burst into a fit of giggles. 

"What's so funny?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," you laughed out. 

With that you made your way to the stairs. 

When you sat down at the dinner table you looked up to see your ex-professors eyes sparkling at you. 

You smiled at the man and then turned your head to see Harry serving you some food. You thanked him then thanked the chef who sat proudly next to the professor his head of long midnight hair held high. 

You quickly launched into a conversation with Mrs. Potter about your plans to be an Auror after Hogwarts while Harry laughed with his godfather. 

Your conversation was cut short by Mr. Potter. 

"So I saw you had a broom, you play I'm guessing." He inquired.

"Yes I do sir." You spoke politely before placing a tomato into your mouth and feeling its soft skin burst with flavor against your teeth. 

"No need for the 'sir'" the man explained before adding, "What position?"

"I'm a chaser si-" you cut your sentence

 short blushing.

 James eyes widened under his glasses, "Really?" 

"Yes, I have been playing since second year." You nodded.

"Wow, that's pretty young for a chaser." 

"She's incredible, probably better than you Dad," Harry cut in, "She once scored 180 points in one game. That's only 30 points below the record." Harry gushed making you flame red, "And she's only in her fifth year." Harry added proudly smiling. 

You felt on fire when all of the adults at the table looked at you in amazement and surprise. "It's really no big deal, I don't win the games your son does." You mumbled looking down at your food. 

Harry rolled his eyes at your modesty even though it only made him grin impossibly l that's quite impressive." Sirius noted, "I didn't take you for a jock." 

You bit your lip before hearing another voice cut through.

"She's not just a jock Sirius." Remus rolled his eyes. "When I had her in my class she had the highest marks of all the students, she's quite talented, especially when it comes to spells and charms, she would make a brilliant Auror." 

You felt your face once again fill with fire as you looked across at the man who had spoken, "Thank you Professor Lupin." 

"Just Remus." He said before taking a sip of his wine. 

You nodded and looked at Harry who was smiling brightly at you his eyes sparkling like rare gems. 

Lily opened her mouth to continue the conversation when suddenly Harry's smile turned to a grimace of agony. He bent over with a gasp, clutching his forehead. 

Everyone instantly began to move, you moved toward Harry wrapping your arms around him, James and Lily reached for their wands as Sirius and Remus leapt from their chairs flicking their own to lock the doors and windows around them. 

You and everyone else in that room knew what that anguish Harry was feeling meant. 

Harry hissed air through his teeth in pain, "Y/n, you need to get out of here, he's coming, Voldemort's coming." He spit out. 

You turned to Lily for an answer but it was too late.

The women flew across the room in a gust of wind 

"Lily!" James yelled from across the room before he was thrown backwards into the china case with a crash. You turned to see five figures in black standing in the living room. Sirius leapt into action deflecting two spells before being hit with another. 

Remus yelled in anger hitting one of the figures with a spell before being hit with two of his own. 

During this you gathered your scattered thoughts and muttered a small protection spell  under your breath. 

Your heard Harry shriek with misery as another figure appeared in the room. You recognized the man -if you could even call him that- instantly. He started toward you and Harry who had somehow ended up on the floor your arm still sealed over his shoulders. 

"Move girl." The thing headed toward you stated. 

You rose to your feet to meet him as he neared. "No." 

A cackle rose from the throat of the monster. "Look around you," he said gesturing to the four wizards all now caught by a figure in black, wands held by tattooed wrists at their necks. 

"Move and you may live." The thing promised. 

"No." You repeated grasping your hands to fists as you stood in front of the boy shaking in torment.

"Imperi-" 

You didn't let the dark lord finish his spell before you whispered one of your own. 

The most forgiving of the unforgivable curses bounced off your shield and hit the window with a crash. You then whispered a small healing spell to Harry and heard him gasp for breath finally being released from pain's cold grasp. 

The white faced man now glared at you shooting another curse you deflected with ease. His frustration was now visible as he shot a series of painful spell at you. You muttered deflections and counter curses smoothly. 

You almost smiled at the man's great surprise and rage at the new obstacle that stood in the way of Harry's death. Your joy was swept away quickly.

"Y/n move!" You heard Harry yelled before you were hit with a blinding sting in your chest. You fell back in pain gasping for breath. You turned your head to see Remus laying on the ground in a heap, his guard standing over you in triumph. 

Suddenly you began to float up in the air. You tried and failed to regain your bearings as you were suddenly flying toward he who must not be named.  You felt cold as his fingernails closed aground your neck. 

You could smell rotting flesh and the metallic scent of blood. You could sense the hunger of the thing holding you, you could sense its hunger for death, for blood, for pain, he fed from it. 

Voldemort cackled watching as Harry screamed, writhing in the grasp of the death eater holding him.

You began to feel adrenaline rush through you with new found terror. You couldn't die. No no no. Not yet.  Please dear God not yet. You began to feel tears prick at your eyes. Please. Please not yet. Not yet.

"I can't kill you Harry." The monster paused "Not yet. But I can kill her. I can kill her easily as a bug, she's nothing." He howled in laughter. "The most important thing to you in this miserable world is nothing, its pathetic." 

Harry sobbed attempting to throw himself forward as Voldemort's wand raised to your throat.

"Please not her, please, take me instead, not her dont kill her, let her live please." Harry begged, sobs making his words almost incomprehensible.

You watched in horror as Harry broke in front of you. You could hear his parents screaming in the background and Sirius crying for Remus to wake up. 

Your body shook with anger and fear at the scene taking place in front of you. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused that energy. You focused just as your dad had thought you. You focused all that pain, fury, fear onto one thing, one spell, one person.

"Crusio." You murmured softly. 

Suddenly you were released and sent sprawling towards the ground. You heard a blood curdling shriek of agony behind you and stood to see the dark lord writhing on the floor. As he did your head felt with a splitting pain and you screeched grasping at your temples in an attempt to stop the pain. 

It ended as abruptly as it started and you stood over the man so many feared and you saw him look back up at you to see the one thing you were sure this man had never felt before in his eyes. Fear. 

He was gone in a whisper of black smoke, his followers disappearing just as quickly.

You turned sliding to the floor next to the boy you loved, tears of relief springing from your eyes. 

"She's gone, she's gone, she's gone." You heard him sobbing slumped on the ground defeated. 

"Harry, Harry it's me." You said voice breaking. He looked up his glasses were long gone his emerald eyes shining with tears. 

"Y/n?" He mumbled.

"Hey, yeah it's me." You cried. 

"But y-you, you, you were g-gone." 

"Not yet. Not yet." You sobbed tears of joy as you were tackled in a hug by the boy. 

You sobbed on to his shoulder as he pulled you into him grasping you desperately, wetting your y/h/c hair with tears. 

He pulled away from the hug grabbing your damp cheeks and smashing his lips onto yours. 

The kiss was desperate and needy, Harry moved his lips roughly against yours, you could taste the salt on him left from his tears, the same salty droplets still leaking from your eyes. 

When you broke away he pulled you into his chest again. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you y/n, I love you so much." The words fell from his mouth in a slur.

"I love you too Harry. I love you too" You cried into his chest.

Lily and James watched as the two of you reunited and looked at each other with the same eyes. They knew what the two of you had, they had seen very few like it, very few indeed. It was love. Not fake teenage dream "love". Not abusive of forced "love". Not one sided or used "love" but true and actual love. The same love they felt for each other. They watched as the young couple picked each other up and put each other back together and they knew that those two teenagers were in it for the long run. 

Masterlist

[aikoeisbon]

hello! i saw that ur requests are open and for levi!! soo i was wondering if i could get one? maybe an argument with him that leads to silent treatment? vv angsty please! thank u in advance 😊❤️ love ur acc btw so i followed hehe

So, I actually had this all typed up on my phone, went to save it as a draft, and it completely got erased. The levels of anger I felt......... so it’s taken me a while to write this one again. Sorry! Alrighty, here goes.

Deafening Silence

Levi x Reader

“You’re staying behind on this mission, Erwin’s orders. That’s final.” Levi informed as he pulled off his boots, preparing for bed. 

“What? Why?! You know how much this means to me, aren’t you going to talk to him about it or something?” You panicked with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Levi sighed.

“I agree with his decision.” He admitted, taking a deep breath as his eyes slid from his discarded cravat to your exasperated expression.

“Why...” You muttered. 

“You overestimate your abilities and get reckless. These aren’t titans we’re fighting this time, brat.”

“Get reckless?! How?! And you know I’d do anything to protect you and the Survey Corps, it doesn’t matter who we’re fighting!” You yelled, your face contorted with frustration. “You won’t even give me a chance to prove myself!”

“Prove what, y/n? How quickly you can get yourself killed?!” He raised his voice as close as you’ve ever heard it to a yell. He glared at you for a brief moment before pulling his shirt over his head and draping it over the back of a chair.

“I’m not going to get myself killed!” You argued, feeling hot tears ebb at the corners of your eyes, begging for release. “You won’t even let me explain-”

“Y/n.” Levi interrupted. “You’re staying.” He declared sternly, his eyes narrowing as he locked his gaze with yours. With his tone of voice, and how angry he seemed to be, you knew his mind was made up, along with the Commander’s. You reflexively clenching your fists, brows furrowing as deeply as you could manage as you reached for your hand.

“If you really think so little of me and my abilities despite how hard I’ve tried...” Your voice shook as you spoke. “Sleep alone.” You stated, removing a silver ring from your finger and placing it on the desk beside you before storming towards the door. Levi’s gaze followed you as you disappeared, the door slamming and echoing in the room as though it was announcing your silence. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands running through his hair as he stared at the circular piece of metal on the desk- a ring he had given you. He had not predicted that. He knew you would be angry, but he was not the gambler Erwin was. He never would have guessed the levels of anguish you portrayed, the fury you felt to the point you removed your engagement ring. Levi knew better than anyone that you had a empathetic soul and genuine kindness, and he wanted to do everything he could to protect that about you. He was accustomed to the looks of despair that plastered the faces of the people he had run his blade through, and knew that that very look would haunt you for the rest of your days. He had no doubt you would do everything in your power to protect him- he admired that about you, but he knew that your actions would carry guilt you did not have hard enough of a heart to handle. Then again, that was another thing he loved so much about you- your tenderness. As passionate as you were about the things you loved and cared for, you always had a sense of humanity, no matter how enraged you felt. He did not want you to be haunted with the guilt of killing someone, and he feared that because of your morality, you would hesitate at the most dangerous moment- a point where a person is desperately clinging onto life. He did not want to risk losing you because your humanity forced you to freeze and hesitate long enough for you to be vulnerable, but here he was alone in your shared bedroom, faced with the horror of losing you in a different way. This was an internal battle he was ill-prepared for; losing you to the afterlife, or losing his future wife. Either way, he would lose you, but at least in one instance, you would still be alive. His clenched hands and white knuckles tangled furiously into his raven locks, his stare burning into the desk where the ring was placed from beneath his bangs.

You stormed down the corridor that contained the doorways to the captains’ rooms, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. You could not believe what you had just heard from your fiance, and it felt like a punch to the gut. You thought your work ethic, your determination, dedication, and skill, is what caught Levi’s eye in the first place. To know now that he doubted your abilities had you wonder what he thought about you at all. Did he think you were unable to protect him, that you were a burden? Finding out the Commander thought so little of your abilities was tough enough, but to know Levi felt the same was like a blindsiding betrayal. You had done your absolute best to be the best you could be, and if that wasn’t enough for him, you’d never be enough. It was this harrowing realization that forced you to spend hours outside, crying your frustrations out to the point of exhaustion until you finally decided to drag yourself to the barracks. The barracks, with the other cadets, where you felt you belonged rather than snuggled up against the body of humanity’s strongest. After all this time, you still were not good enough for him. At the Survey Corps most dire moment, you would be left behind.

“Y/n? Why are you here?” Sasha inquired, bending over to the level of your bunk on the floor. You opened one swollen eye, peering back at her.

“I needed some space. Don’t worry about it.” You responded to the auburn-haired ‘potato girl’ as you sat up.

“Well, breakfast is ready. Are you coming?” She wondered, in which you replied by dragging yourself out of bed and throwing on a fresh uniform before following her to the mess hall. The others seemed to have been up for some time, and sat energetically engaged in conversation as they ate off their trays. Your eyes stung, you had a terrible headache, and frankly, you weren’t quite hungry, but you went through the motions of picking up your food and sitting with the others anyways. You poked at your pancakes absentmindedly until suddenly your attention was summoned to the side of the room, as if your soul had sensed the man you loved. The pain in your chest fired up all over again the second you laid eyes on the well-built man, his typically tired eyes a thousand times darker than they normally seemed to be. His gaze was trained on you, his steel eyes widening ever so slightly as they met with yours. As badly as you wanted to greet him and give him a good morning kiss, you were immediately reminded, ‘you aren’t good enough for him, he doubts you’ from the argument the night before. You clenched your eyes, tearing your gaze away from him and staring at your food. After breakfast, he approached you as you thought he would. It was somewhat comforting to you, but you refused to allow yourself to think he cared as much as you used to think he did.

“The bed was cold without you.” He commented quietly, staring off at the other cadets but keeping you in his peripheral. You sighed, feeling tears form once more. “I hate upsetting you.” He attempted to reach for you, but you swatted him away. He felt his stomach twist. He stared at you for a moment, desperately searching for any body language that signified you were open to talking to him. “Are you... leaving me?” He questioned, his voice sounding more vulnerable and weak than you had ever heard him. Your heart thudded against your chest, your glassy eyes darting up to meet his. The pain in his voice matched the pain in his eyes. You reached for your hand instinctively, feeling that the ring you cherished was not there, only then remembering you had removed it. The tearful look in your e/c eyes snapped his heart in two, but he had fully convinced himself he would rather you leave him and be alive, than for him to give in, let you come, and die. The two of you shared an anguished look for a brief moment before you turned away, forcing yourself to walk away from him. That action provided Levi his answer, and suddenly, he felt empty.

The following day, the captains around him began to pick up on Levi’s rapidly deteriorating mood. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in days!” Hanji commented aloofly as they serviced their ODM gear. 

“Tch. Shut up, four-eyes.” 

“Seriously, have you eaten? You look sick.” The titan-enthusiast continued. Moblit nodded in agreement.

“Squad Leader is right. I hope you’re looking after yourself.”

“I’m a grown man, get off my ass.” Levi snapped, curling his lip as he spoke. Hanji raised her hands with open palms, snickering as she left the captain alone. The next day, it was predicted that Erwin would be arrested and the mission would begin. Until then, they were packing to begin their descent to a woodland house to carry out experiments with Eren. You, and you alone, would be the only one to seek refuge at the old Survey Corps headquarters. It enraged you, more so at yourself for thinking you were good enough to be trusted by Levi. You began to consider going anyways, but knew there would be no point if nobody cooperated with you.

You assumed Levi was busy as he typically was, and attempted to take advantage of that time to return to your once shared bedroom to retrieve a couple of your things, including the ring. Each time you reached for your hand when thinking of him, you felt your heart shatter all over again as you remembered the broken look he had in his eyes. When you reached the room, you found that the ring was missing off of the desk. You feared, had he sold it already? You leaned against the door, your back sliding down it as you sat on the floor, bawling into you arms as you pulled your knees against your chest.

Levi had spent the past two days grueling over his decision and the anguish you were experiencing. He never wanted to be the reason you were this upset- he only wanted what was best for you. He could not bear watching your life slip through his fingers. He wondered where you went the night you walked out on him- and although he knew you would never go to another man, for otherwise he never would have proposed, he couldnt help but feel fleeting anxiety at the thought of it. He was drowning in guilt and had no idea what the answer was to this situation, but he knew that he could not begin the mission like this, with a mind as distracted as his. At the very least, he’d need a clear answer. He felt for the ring in his pocket- the cold metal tapped the warm metal on his own finger. Were you really leaving him? Would this ring mean nothing anymore? The anxiety he felt was plaguing him. He quickly wrapped up his maintenance and returned to his quarters, where he would write out a letter explaining his concerns and intentions, that he hoped would heal your pain while he was gone if you refused to talk to him before then.

As he went to enter the room, he found the door heavier than usual. On the second attempt at opening it, he found it returned to it’s normal weight, only to see you sitting on the floor with red eyes a few feet away. The sight of you crying so much compelled his body to move reflexively. He pulled you up from the floor and into his arms, his heart thundering against his ribcage as he held the warmth of your trembling body against him. He craned his head into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent and brushing aside your hair. He felt you murmur against him, in which he allowed a bit of distance between your two bodies so that you could repeat yourself.

“Did you s-sell it?” You stuttered between sobs. He furrowed his brows, holding your face between his hands. You read the confusion on his face, pointing to the desk where the ring once was. “Did yo-you sell it?” His eyes followed your finger, and once he realized, he immediately corrected his posture and reached into the pocket of his dark-green coat. He opened his palm, holding it out to you. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he held out your ring, still wearing his own. You curled his hand up between your own, sobbing against his chest. He felt physically pained with how hurt you were. He never intended to make you this upset.

“I can’t lose you, y/n.” Levi breathed, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t risk losing you to some piece of shit. I know you’re good, but you’re too good.” He admitted.

“Good?” You replied curiously, still crying.

“Good-natured, good-hearted. You are good with ODM gear, you’re skilled with titans. It’s this heart of yours...It’s too good to be killing people.” He placed a hand over where your heart would be, wrapping his other arm around your waist. “Pieces of shit like me would take advantage of a kind heart like that. One moment’s hesitation ends up being your last.” 

“That’s why you don’t want me to come?” You questioned with doe-eyes. 

“Yes.” Levi answered earnestly, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“What about Commander Erwin?”

“I asked him to make you stay. You wouldn’t listen if it were just me.” He confessed. You blinked away your tears, sighing shakily.

“...I thought I wasn’t good enough... for you. I thought you all were doubting me. I.. I’ve tried so hard to prove myself, and... and...” You stammered, beginning to sob once more. Levi shook his head, dropping to one knee and pulling your hand into both of his. 

“You’ve proven yourself to me in more ways than I can count. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t even consider marrying you.” Levi glanced up at you, his eyes sincere but fatigued. “I don’t just consider marrying you. I dream of it. I desire it- desire you.” He slipped the ring back onto your finger in a fluid motion that made your heart soar. “Marry me, Y/n. Never leave me.” 

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader

[zoequeenz]

Extreme Aggressor (Part 1)

A/N: Hi, so here is my Criminal Minds rewrite that I started a few years ago. I only have the first three episodes written and uploaded on my Wattpad and Quotev and I thought it would be interesting to try Tumblr out. Hopefully y’all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Seattle, Washington

034321

Z4SALE: I’ll send you a picture of the car…

Z4SALE: New Paint. New tires. Not bad, huh?

HEATHER: Why so low on the price?

Z4SALE: Moving. Must sell ASAP. You up for a test drive?

Heather though nervous really needs that car. She quickly grabs her red umbrella and goes to the meetup spot. The red Datsun Z pulls up and honks twice to get her attention. She smiles impressed. The man gets out of the car to introduce himself. Due to the pouring rain the man has his hood over his head.

“Hey.”the seller says.

“Wow!” Heather says with clear amazement in her voice.

The man runs over to shake hands with Heather.

“Hey, I’m Heather.” She states.

“Nice to meet ya.” The man remarks.

Heather runs to the driver’s seat while the seller gets in the passenger’s spot. Once they are both in the car Heather takes off.

“It’s a 2.4 liter, 6-cylinder engine.” The seller notes in a flat tone.

“With Hitachi side-draft carbs.” Heather mentions while smiling.

“That’s right. Wanna take a look under the hood?” The man chuckles.

“Yeah!” Heather declares.

They pull over and get out to look under the hood.

“You know your Z’s. I’m impressed.” The man congratulated closing the hood of the car.

“You should have your mechanic check it out anyway.” He continues.

“Okay.” Heather says in a small voice.

“How ‘bout I leave you my number and we can set it up?” The driver tells Heather.

“Thank you.” Heather replies as he opens the door to the car so he can drive her back to her office.

As she gets in the driver removes the inside door lock and Heather is locked in the car. She points signalizing the way to go.

“So it’s just...right up here.” Heather pointing to the right.

The driver doesn’t stop.

“Oh! That was..”Heather chuckles.

“Hello! There was the right.” Heather attempts to explain.

But the man continues to drive down the street.

“Uh, maybe just...pull over here, and we can try a U-turn.” Heather says in a nervous voice  trying to make the man to drop her off at the meet up spot.

As the man continues to drive and ignore Heather she starts to get distressed.

“What are you doing?” Heather questions becoming more and more uncomfortable.

The man continues to drive and ignore Heather. Heather is starting to become even more scared.

“Okay. Stop the car. Pull over now!” Heather demands in a firm voice.

The man continues to drive. Heather looks out her window then looks down and notices that the inner door lock is gone and that it is lock. She turns to look at the man with fear in her eyes. The driver hits her in the face knocking her out and continues down the road.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Aaron Hotchner’s POV

Washington, DC

“How ‘bout Andrew? It’s Greek for ‘valiant’.” Haley suggested.

Haley and I are trying to pick out a name for our new baby. We know it is a boy, the only problem is we can’t agree on a name.

“Let’s call him..Sergio.” I suggest with a smile on my face.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Haley chuckles.

“Butch?” I throw out.

“How about Donald?” She asks.

“Hans.” I say quickly.

“No! Wait, wait. Um...okay. Gideon.” She states.

“Not a chance.” I say walking over to her.

“It’s Hebrew. Look what it means. It’s perfect. Gideon Hotchner. Haley says trying to persuade me.

“No.” I say raising my eyebrows.

“Yes.” she repiles.

“No.” I tell her moving closer.

“Yes.” she declared.

“No.” I murmured kissing my wife.

“Gideon.” She ended.

My phone rings. Both Haley and I already knowing what that meant we kiss and hug just as I get a fax. When I get the paper it says missing person with the picture of Heather Woodland.

Derek Morgan’s POV

(At the bar with three women at a table.)

“It’s the 1940s. He put bombs in train stations and movie theaters.” I question the three women.

“Uh, the “Mad Bomber,” George Metesky.” The woman in the blue shirt said.

“Nice. The winners sit. Losers, drink.” I exclaimed in an impressed tone.

“Hold on. Metesky wasn’t a serial killer. None of his bombs ever killed anyone.” The woman in the red dress adds.

“Well, you think all we do is serial killers? Trust me, we cover the whole spectrum of psychos. We profiled the “DC Sniper,” the “Unbomber.” We do terrorists, arsonists-” I explain before I get cut off.

“Supervisory agents trying to get trainees drunk?” The woman in the red dress questions while nodding.

Then my cell rings. It’s from the BAU. The woman in the striped shirt looks over my shoulder at my phone.

“Wow. Behavioral Analysis Unit. You work with Gideon? Were you with him in Boston?” She woman asked me.

I look back and answer “ I was supposed to be.” I turn back around to answer “Yeah this is Morgan.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Jason Gideon’s POV

(A Projection of various of victims)

“Anyone recognize these faces?” I ask the class I am teaching.

“Victims of the “Footpath Killer.” I female student answers.

“That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him. We refer to him as the UNknown SUBject or Unsub.” I tell the class. As agents we don’t like to give the Unsub a name it just doesn’t seem right.

The lights come back on in the classroom. I keep on explaining how we figured it out as pictures of the victims flashed on the screen behind me.

“I told Virginia PD we’re looking for a white male in his 20s… who owns an American-made truck in disrepair. Works a menial job. I told ‘em you find him… don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.”

“Not to sound skeptical, but come on… a stutter?” She questions.

“Where’d the murders occur? Hiking paths. Isolated. If I’m a killer who has to use an immediate application of overpowering force, even out in the middle of nowhere, I lack confidence. I can’t charm them into my car like Ted Bundy did. I can’t because I am ashamed of something.” I tell the class trying to get them to understand how I came to this conclusion.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Persephone Chase’s POV

I’m sat at my desk filling out some paperwork when my best friend Spencer Reid comes up to my desk.

“Spencer I have told you this a thousand times, you can’t keep showing me physics magic Hotch already warned you once.” I tell him before looking up.

“Actually Persephone we have a case.”he tells me.

I look up and notice a two files in his hands. He hands one to me and I look it over. It talks about the disappearance of a woman named Heather Woodland.

“Hurry we have to go get Gideon.”he tells me as he waits for me to get up.

“No, you need to get Gideon you just don’t want to go alone.” I state.

“ I hate that you can read me like that.”he laughs.

As we walk down he gives me more information on the case. Once we get to the classroom Reid opens the door and taps the file with his hand to gets Gideon’s attention.

“Excuse me.”Gideon dismisses himself from the class and comes with us to be briefed.

“They’re calling him the “Seattle Strangler.” Spencer informs.

“Four victims in four months.” I add in.

“He keeps ‘em alive seven days.” Spencer continues.

“The handle serves as a crank.” I finish.

“Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation.” Gideon tells us.

“To prolong it?” Spencer asks.

“To enjoy it. Seattle’s hit a wall.” States Gideon.

“He gets pleasure out of suffocation?” I ask out loud.

“I would assume so Chase.” Gideon answers.

“Physical evidence is nonexistent. There are no tangible leads.”Spencer says just as we arrive at an office.

“And another girl missing.” Gideon says grabbing the photo from Spencer.

“I looked the case file over. I’ll get some thoughts to you ASAP.” Gideon tells us as he stand behind a desk.

“You’re gonna be with us in Seattle ASAP.” Hotch says entering the room with Morgan right behind him.

“Hey Little One. How have you been?” Derek asks me.

“I’ve been good, lots of paperwork it’s like I never leave the office.” I tell him while pulling him into a hug. He then turns around to show Gideon a picture of the victim Heather Woodland.

“22-year-old Heather Woodland.” He says handing Gideon the picture and taking a step back.

“Before she left for lunch, she downloaded an email with a time-delayed virus attached. The killer’s virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen.” Hotch informs us handing the message to Gideon.

They look at each other for a while before Gideon walks over to the wall and begins to read “For heaven’s sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself.” When he looks up we all look over at a picture on the wall. It says the same thing and under it, it reads “ William Heirens, Lipstick Killer, 1945.”

“He never keeps them for more than seven days, which means we have fewer than 36 hours to find her.” Hotch points out.

“They want you back out in the field. Are you ready?” I ask him remembering why he took a six month leave in the first place.

“Looks like medical leave’s over, boss.” Spencer adds.

“They sure they want me?” Gideon questions.

“The order came from the director.” Smirked Hotch.

“Well, we’d better get started.” Gideon says blankly.

As we drive to the airport I get in a car with Spencer and Gideon. It is silent for most of the ride which makes me uncomfortable because is seems too quiet. Spencer looks back at me and notices my discomfort.

“Hey Persephone, do you think it’s weird that we don’t have nicknames for each other.”Spencer asks me.

“Why would you ask me that?” I ask him.

“Well don’t best-friends give each other nicknames?” he asks me.

“If you want nicknames then we’ll have nicknames.” I declare smiling.

Spencer turns around smiling. He has told me of his high school days and they were bad. I wish I could’ve been there to be his friend but sadly I lived in Indiana. A small town but a good place to grow up because it was small and everyone knew each other.

We get to the airport runway in front of the jet and jump out to meet Hotch and Morgan. We walk towards the plane and get ready to go to Seattle.

“Joseph Conrad said, “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”

Hotch and a female agent exit the other car and head to the plane with us.

“This girl may only have 36 hours to live. We’re not asking for a judgement of Gideon. We want an assessment. We want to know you’re there to step in if he can’t perform. Are we clear?” she asks Hotch.

“Of course.” Hotch states.

He then joins us on the plane. Hotch comes to sit with me and Spencer. As we take off I look around. There weren’t many girls on the team which kinda sucked. No one to talk to about girl stuff. Our team has always been like this, well I have Garcia but she doesn’t come to the field with us she is a technical analyst for the team. After we’ve been up in the air for a few minutes Spencer begins to read the profile from beside me.

“His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation.” Spencer told us.

“Wait,wait. Back up, back up. He stabbed her...and then strangled her to finish her off?””

“Why would he stab her then strangle her? The stabbing itself should’ve killed her if he left her there.” I state.

“Other way around. Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” Gideon asks.

“Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe. He tried, probably found that it took too long…” Spencer tells us.

“So he stabbed her instead.” Derek finished for Spencer.

“And realized it would be hours cleaning up blood.” Hotch adds in.

“Next time, our boy’s got a method-- the belt.” Derek shares.

“He’s learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer.” Gideon finishes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Heather Woodland’s POV (Victim)

Where am I? Why is it so dark in here. There is tape over my mouth and eyes so I can’t see or speak but I can tell I’m in a wire cage when I feel around. I’m able to move my hands because the man who took me didn’t tie me up. I touch the tape on my face. All of a sudden I hear a voice that makes me gasp.

“What did I tell you about the tape?” here  asks in a mincing voice.

He is getting closer to the cage I can hear his footsteps. He smacks the cage and I scream. I can’t see or speak in this state I am very vulnerable. He reaches down and unlocks the lock but leaves the chain where it is.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I sob.

He then removes the chain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I sob again through the gag.

The door squeaks. “I’m sorry.” I sob waving my hands in front hopping it would provide me some protection from my kidnapper.

He grabs my wrist pulling me towards him with struggle due to the fact that I’m trying my best to stay in the back of the cage. He gets out nail clippers and begins to clip my nails. He continues to cut while I cry out.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Persephone Chase’s POV

We have finally landed and are currently driving to the FBI headquarters here in Seattle. I’m sitting next to Spencer when he turns to me and asks me a question.

“Have you thought of a nickname yet?” Spencer asks me.

“I have not, I am having so much trouble with it.” I tell him.

“Take as long as you need.” he repiles.

“Why do you want nicknames?” I ask.

“Well….”Spencer starts out but we pull up to the building and he rushes out of the car.

Odd, Spencer is never this nervous around me. He is an awkward person but ever since we started working together he became more comfortable with me. He grabbed what he needed and started to walk. I quickly got out and grabbed the last of what was needed and followed the team in. We have to put our bags through metal detectors as Gideon picks his up Derek nudges Spencer and I.

“He never stands with his back to a window. When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to move.” Derek told us.

“So.” I said not understanding what he was applying.

“That’s hyper vigilance. It’s not uncommon in post-traumatic stress disorder.” Spencer tells us while Hotch catches up with us.

“Just how much disorder are we talking about?” Derek asks.

“Morgan, it’s been six months. Everything’s okay.” Hotch tells us calming me down more.

To be completely honest I’ve been worried about how this new case would affect Gideon. He has a soft spot for the team I know it and most importantly me and Spencer, but more for Spencer. He is a very good guy and I don’t want what happened to him six months ago affect his work. I know he needs time but you’d think six months would be enough. We walk to the bull pin a.k.a the place where all the agent’s desk are. Hotch introduces us.

“This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan, our expert on obsessional crimes, Special Agent Chase, and Special Agent Reid.” Hotch tells the agents of Seattle.

“Doctor Reid.” Gideon clarifies for Hotch.

“Dr. Reid, our expert on, well, everything, and after two years of busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me.” Hotch jokes making everyone in the office chuckle, believe it or not he does have a sense of humor.

Gideon looks at the boards they set up then says.

“He’s willing to travel with the body.”

“Then he drives a vehicle capable of concealing one.” Hotch adds.

“One in 7.4 drivers in Seattle owns an SUV.” Spencer tells us. “Explorer with tinted windows.” Derek adds.

“Windows that keep whatever is hidden in your car away from public view.” I say.

“Explorers rate higher with women.” Spencer recalls.

This entire time Gideon has been glued to the board with the pictures of the victims. He looks at each board with each victim.

“But how do we know it’s his car?” Derek asks.

“Ted Bundy drove a VW Bug.” answering his rhetorical question.

“What about a Jeep Cherokee?” Hotch questions.

“Jeeps are more masculine.” Spencer tells him.

“We all know how an Unsub feels about asserting his masculinity.” Gideon says turning to face us.

“When did the Bureau become involved in the case?” Hotch asks.

“ After the fourth body. He dumped that one out of state.” an agent tells us.

“On purpose.” Hotch tells Gideon.

“If so, knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record.” Spencer says.

“Not always, it could just mean he knows the cops are catching on and he is trying to get them off his trail.” I say.

“Or that he watches television. May I?” Derek as extending his hand out to take a file.

“So you wanna see our suspect list?” asks another agent.

“No, we won’t look at a suspect list until after we come up with a profile. It keeps our perspective unbiased.” Hotch tells him.

“When do we sit down your task force?” asks Gideon.

“Four o’clock.” the agent responds.

FOUR..four. How are we supposed to create a profile before four. I haven’t done much field work in a while in rusty.

“An accurate profile by four o’clock today?” Derek questions thinking the same thing as me.

“That’s not a problem.” Gideon says.

Gideon walks towards the board and we all follow. I’m a bit nervous I know that I can do it, it’s just that I am a bit rusty. Like I mentioned before I have been doing desk work for a while, the field is a stranger to me at the moment. I guess Spencer noticed my discomfort and took a hold of my hand. I looked up at him and smiled. He always knew how to make me smile.

“Agent Gideon, where would you like to start?” Hotch asks him as he walks up to the board with victim number two Anne Cushing and he points at a photo and says.

“Let’s start at the site of the last murder.”

NEXT CHAPTER 

[fandom-smut-shots]

Lance McClain - Selfie

Selfie – Lance McClain

SuicidalConnorMurphy

A/N: Male!reader. High school AU.

 Words: 2,357

           Lance McClain was the Selfie King. If he were to be published in the Garrison High yearbook, his trademark would be “Took the Most Selfies.” Nobody particularly minded it, though. They teased the Cuban on more than one occasion, but the taunts never had any heat to them. Lance had a rather impressive Instagram following, considering his feed consisted of selfie after selfie after selfie, sprinkled with a few photos of his favorite beverages from the local coffee shop.

         As his best friend, you were a frequent occurrence in his postings. “Hanging with the best boyo!” was a common caption on Lance’s photos, followed by your username and an onslaught of hashtags. You desperately wanted to be more than the official Best Friend, but you supposed that was better than being a background character.

           One of the reasons that Kaltenecker’s Café was Lance’s favorite caffeine destination was because you were a barista there on the weekends. You usually worked the morning shift, leaving your afternoons open for hanging out and catching up on any homework you didn’t finish during the week.

         Every Saturday and Sunday, at ten in the morning, like clockwork, Lance was there, chatting up your coworkers while you prepared his drink of choice. In the spring, it was an iced Americano with cream and vanilla syrup. Summer was a cinnamon chai milkshake. Autumn was a pumpkin spice latte. Winter was a hot chai latte, dirty if he was studying.

         It was ten a.m. on Saturday, and you had just clocked in for your shift. Your hands wound around your back, securing your apron as you padded out to the front counter. The café was quiet, so you set about prepping your station and brewing yourself a beverage to keep your energy up. The owner was a sweetheart, and one of the first things he’d told you during training was that you were welcome to help yourself to any drink in the café provided that you prepared it yourself, kept it out of customer view, and didn’t let it go to waste.

         The bell above the door chimed, altering you to a new customer.

         “Good morning. Welcome to Kaltenecker’s,” you called without looking up from the counter. Tanned skin appeared in your peripheral vision, drawing your gaze upwards. A smile settled on your lips as Lance leaned against the counter, signature smirk on his lips, one hand raised and poised into a finger gun.

         “Good morning, handsome,” he grinned. Fondness fluttered in your stomach, only to be crushed by the reality that you were just his friend. Though the entire campus knew that Lance was a proud bisexual, you couldn’t help but doubt that you would be even close to his type. He flirted with everyone, it seemed. Everyone except for you.

         “Hey, Lance,” you greeted, already punching his order into the register. “Your usual?”

         “You know it,” he beamed. “Extra shot, please? Finals are coming up.”

         “Don’t remind me,” you groaned. Once the brunet paid for his drink, tipping as usual, you set about concocting it.

         “Study buddies?” Lance inquired with a wiggle of his thin cinnamon brows. The two of you always prepped for midterms and finals together, though your benefits fell short. You always got distracted by his midnight blue eyes and sun-kissed skin, leading you conveniently forget every single chapter you quizzed each other on.

         “Of course,” you agreed without missing a beat. Failing finals was worth quality time with the boy you’d never admit your gay attraction to.

         “Awesome!” He shot you a toothy grin, and the butterflies that had been dancing in your abdomen exploded into homosexual confetti. You slid his drink across the counter with practiced ease, watching as he reached for it before you even fully released the cup. Your fingers brushed against his, and it felt like a thousand volts shot through your skin. You struggled to stifle a shiver, trying to keep your gay heart under control.

         Lance turned his back to you, holding his drink in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He tapped the screen to activate his camera before hoisting the device into the air, effectively capturing the both of you in the screen’s dimensions.

         “Say cheese!” the brunet declared, hardly giving you a chance to smile before he tapped the center button to snap the photo. Satisfied, he shoved his phone into his pocket and took a large swig of his beverage

         He moaned loudly in approval, and the noise traveled straight to your lower regions.

         “You’re the best, (y/n),” he stated. “My place after work?”

         You nodded. “I’ll be here. Need me to bring my books?”

         He offered you a sheepish chuckle, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Heh, yeah. I may have left mine in my locker today.”

         You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips. Lance McClain was the epitome of unprepared.

         “See you later,” he said with a wink, shooting you one final finger gun gesture before spinning on his heel and sauntering out of the café. You chewed your lip, staring after him like a lost puppy.

           When you took your first break, you withdrew your phone from your pocket to peek at your notifications. It came as no surprise that Instagram was at the top of the list, alerting you that Lance had tagged you in a post. You unlocked your phone and tapped on the note, dropping your weight onto one of the metal folding chairs in the break room. Leaning back against it, your gaze was met with the photo Lance had taken earlier, displaying himself, his drink, and you in the background. Scrolling down, you allowed yourself to read the caption.

           Got to see this cutie again! Look how cute u are @username! Cant wait for our study sesh later!

         #caffeine #kalteneckers #bestbud #isnthecute? #shoulditellhim? #maybenexttime

           A blush dusted your cheeks at the compliment, and you reminded yourself that this wasn’t the first time Lance had posted flirty captions in your honor. What caught your attention, though, was the hashtags. What did “should I tell him?” mean? What did Lance want to tell you? Why wasn’t he telling it?

         Ten minutes rushed by as you pondered the brunet’s words, and with a sigh, you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, returning to the world of coffee beans and soy milk.

           Nearly a week later, finals had come to an end, and the student body breathed a collective sigh of relief. Lance had passed with flying colors, thanks to your tutoring, and you were grateful that his flirting hadn’t impacted your focus.

         You met up with Lance after his last test of the day, and his first instinct was to wrap you in a hug and lift you from the ground.

         “You’re the best!” he shrieked, squeezing his arms around you. You only hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was drumming.

         “How did you do?” you inquired once your feet regained contact with the floor.

         “I passed!” he beamed, taking your hands in his. “I passed everything!”

         You grinned, hoping he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palms were. “That’s amazing, Lance! I told you you were smart!”

         “Come on,” the brunet said as he draped an arm across your shoulders. “I’m taking you out for dinner to celebrate and to thank you.”

         “Oh, Lance, you don’t have to-“

         “Don’t even think about getting out of it,” he grinned. “I owe you. Without your help, I would have had to repeat the year!”

         You chuckled softly. “Well, I can’t have my best friend falling behind, now can I?”

         He led you outside to his cobalt blue Camaro, climbing into the driver’s seat while you slid into the other side. “Despacito” blared through the speakers as he drove to a nearby diner, one that the two of you were quite fond of.

         Your eyes danced across the sign that read Vrepit Sal’s Diner, and your heart warmed at the familiarity. Every year, the two of you would come to the diner to celebrate after passing midterms and finals. Lance led you inside, keeping his arm around you. The owner, Sal, waved as you entered, calling for you to sit anywhere you preferred. You followed the lean brunet to his favorite booth by the window, sliding in across from him.

         Sal approached with your favorite drinks, already knowing what the two of you would order. You had spent so many lunches at the diner, it was a wonder why neither of you worked there.

         As Sal shuffled away to prepare your food, Lance rose from his seat. You watched him with curious eyes as he gestured for you to slide further into your side of the booth. You complied, watching as he slid down beside you.

         “Selfie time!” he declared, and you laughed. You really should have seen it coming. You plastered on the calmest smile you could as Lance opened his camera, holding it at arm’s length in front of you. You rested your head on his shoulder, and with a grin, he placed his head on yours, winking at the lens. The picture snapped, and a moment later, Lance returned to his side of the booth, leaving you feeling a draft.

         His thumbs typed furiously at his phone, no doubt uploading the photo to Instagram. You sipped at your drink while you waited, knowing you would be tagged in the post and alerted when it was viewable.

         Your phone dinged, and you picked it up to check the notification. Sure enough, Instagram had informed you of a tag from Lance, and you clicked it open. On your screen sat the photo of you, edited via a bright filter, and you scrolled down to read the caption.

           Look at him!!! Isnt he adorable??? Lunch at vrepit sals!

         #lunch #yummy #vrepitsals #bestbud #cutiepie #imacoward

           Your brows furrowed in confusion at the tags, and you glanced up to question Lance about them. Sal returned with two plates of food, setting one in front of each of you. Aloud, you thanked him, but in your head, you cursed his interruption. The brunet was a disaster when asked to focus on two things at once, and as much of a chatterbox as he was, food always won out over anything else.

         With a sigh, you ate your lunch, missing the longing gaze in those midnight blue eyes sitting across from you.

           Another week passed, and prom night was fast approaching. Garrison High was buzzing with excitement as boys and girls alike gushed over who they were going with and what they were wearing.

         The only person you wanted to ask you was your best friend, and only saw you as such. If he didn’t ask you, there wasn’t a point in attending.

         “Hey, (y/n),” came Lance’s familiar voice. Classes had ended for the day, and you were ready to go home and escape all of the prom talk.

         “Hey, Lance,” you greeted, offering him a weak smile.

         “You going to prom?” he questioned.

         You shook your head. “I doubt it.”

         He frowned. “Why not? Has anyone asked you?”

         “Nobody I’m interested in,” you shrugged. “I don’t really want to go with someone I don’t like, and the person I like hasn’t-“ You cut yourself off, a blush on your cheeks.

         “The person you like?” the brunet grinned slyly. “You never told me you were crushing on someone.”

         “It’s nothing,” you sighed. “He… He’d never be interested in me.”

         Lance raised a brow, and you failed to catch the hopeful gleam in his eye. “He? Why not? Is he not into guys?”

         “He is,” you countered, “I just don’t think he’s into me.”

         Before Lance could question further, you spun on your heel and fled from the building. Any more questions and the Cuban would have figured out you were talking about him, and you couldn’t bear to face him when he pieced it together.

           The night before prom, you were sitting in your room. A show you’d long since ceased paying attention to played on the TV, but your eyes were glued to your phone. You had been texting a couple of people about prom, letting them gush to you about how excited they were. You wished them the best of luck, and carefully changed the subject when they asked why you weren’t going. No one knew of your crush on Lance, so you didn’t have to deal with any pitying texts.

         An Instagram notification popped up, and you quirked a brow. Lance had tagged you in yet another post. You almost didn’t want to check it, tired of trying to decipher his vague but intriguing hashtags.

         Curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked on it. You nearly choked at the sight that met your eyes, not daring to believe it.

         In the photo was Lance, his torso hidden behind a notebook that he held up to the camera. Written on the notebook was your name, along with, “Go to prom with me?”

         You scrolled down to the caption, your free hand clasping over your mouth in disbelief.

           This isnt quite how I intended to tell u, bestie, but ive been crushing on you 4ever. I know im a flirt but around u I just get so shy and flustered, and I cant think of a single pickup line. U deserve better than that anyway. @username will u go to prom with me?

         #pleasesayyes #promnight #bestie #bestbud #boyfriendsmaybe?

           Biting your lip to keep your grin from breaking your face, you tapped the comments section and typed out a reply.

           You dork! I’ve been waiting forever for this! When I said I would only go with the guy I liked, I was talking about you. Of course I’ll go to prom with you!

           When prom night arrived, many selfies were taken. During one, you stole a kiss, pleasantly surprising your brown-haired date. When he uploaded the photos to Instagram, he was back to his usual flirtatious self, but with one key difference in his captions.

         You were no longer #bestbud. You were now referred to as #bestboyfriend.

[ahiddenpath]

Drabble: Clothes Shopping with Koushiro

So I’m reading my Nanowrimo 2019 draft for Tri: Integrity Lens.  I found a scene where Koushiro, Eimi, Mimi, and Takeru take Koushiro clothes shopping.  It’s pretty fun, so I’m sharing it below the cut.  Enjoy!

Koushiro trailed a step behind Eimi, Mimi, and Takeru, trying to buoy his mood. True, he wanted to learn about style and find his, whatever that entailed.  But choosing clothing from his screen was so much more comfortable, especially with Mimi and Takeru shooting excited glances at him, as if in anticipation of a show.

Takeru, being voted the most knowledgeable of menswear, chose the first store. Koushiro wondered if it would contain nothing but hats, and was relieved to find a fairly normal-looking selection of clothing inside.  A young, male employee approached, dressed a bit too punk for Koushiro's tastes. Still, the man looked good, and Koushiro’s eyes darted to Eimi, gauging her reaction to his outfit.

But she simply greeted the employee and shifted focus to the wares. "Hmm...  Shopping for someone else really is different.  Does anything catch your eye, Koushiro?"

"Uh."  Truthfully, Koushiro was too keyed up to look at the clothes.  The employee stepped closer, and Koushiro stepped back, walking into a rack.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" the man asked.

"Um."  Koushiro's eyes flicked to Eimi, who smiled encouragingly.  "Er-  N-no."

Taking mercy on him, Eimi said, "We're browsing, for now.  Can I let you know if we need help?"

"You got it!" he replied.  Koushiro watched him go, heading towards the cash register area in the back of the store. The next breath came a little more easily.

Takeru clapped a hand to his shoulder.  "You okay?"

A rush of shame replaced Koushiro's anxiety.  "Yes," he sighed, pretending to look at the clothing. "I apologize for...  I don't know why I freeze up like that."

"It's totally okay!" Mimi said.  "I have a few friends like that.  I don't get it, but it's pretty common."

"That's true," Eimi said.  "Lots of people feel anxious when talking to strangers.  But we're here to help, so let's take a look."

Eimi approached the nearest shelf and unfolded a pair of pants, holding them out. They were forest green and featured an abundance of pockets.  "The pockets seem useful, and I like the color, but...  I dunno, do you think they look sort of bulky?"

"Totally," Takeru said.  "Aniki might be able to pull them off, but they would wear Koushiro-san."

Eimi scowled.  "Hey. We're here to be supportive."

Koushiro knew that Takeru wouldn't hurt his feelings on purpose, so he tried to ignore the sting of self-consiousness.  Yamato was tall and well built, with broad shoulders and slim hips.  Koushiro was hardly taller than Eimi, and while his body shape had changed from a child’s to a teen's, he was still scrawny.

Eimi folded the pants and put them back.  "Take a look, Koushiro."

Koushiro tried, he really did.  But he found himself following Eimi, trailing a few steps behind, looking at whatever she selected.  He felt more comfortable around her, and frankly, he was overwhelmed.

After a while, Mimi flounced towards him, her arms full of clothes. "Koushiro-kun!  Do you like any of this?"

Takeru approached, laughing.  "He can't see any of it!  Let me help."

Takeru picked up a shirt from the pile.  It was a button down in warm, sunset orange.  It immediately felt familiar, but wasn't the point to try new things?

"Look!" Mimi cried.  She poked the shirt's left breast pocket.  A row of tiny embroidered pineapples lined the top of the hem.

A dopey smile split Eimi's face.  "Wow, I...  I love it? It's nostalgic, but the shade is easy on the eyes...  And the little pineapple detail is so cute!"

"Hmm..."  Eimi clearly liked the shirt, so Koushiro would buy it, but he thought the point was to try new things.  "I like it," he said slowly.  "I'll try it on.  But... Is there something similar that's less plain?"

A wicked grin split Takeru's face.  "So glad you asked," he said.  "This way."

Mimi followed, still showing her selections.  Koushiro chose a few to try on, guided more by Eimi's reaction than his own tastes, since nothing had caught his eye yet.

Takeru stopped the group by a rack that burst with color, like a rainbow condensed into fabric.  Koushiro blinked, his body's attempt to spare the oversaturated cones in his eyes.

"Um," Eimi began.  "Takeru, we're not going on vacation."

Koushiro tentatively lifted a hanger and the attached shirt.  It was a button down made of lightweight, soft material. "It seems comfortable," he said with approval.

"Er- well, yes," Eimi agreed.  "It's sort of like... a lounge item.  People wear them on vacation."

"Oh, yeah!" Mimi chirped.  "They're popular in Hawaii, I always see them there.  That's why there are so many colors and floral designs."

Koushiro placed the shirt back on the rack, quite missing Eimi's relieved expression, and the way it crumbled when he selected a different shirt.

He held up a red button down covered with palm leaves and pineapples.  "It's definitely not plain," Takeru said, his voice oddly delighted.

Koushiro examined the shirt and added it to the "try on" pile.  "I think I like it," he said.  

"You could sure use a vacation," Mimi said.

Koushiro lifted a fist to his chin.  "Is that a requirement to wear these?"

"Nope," Takeru said, grinning.  "I mean, they're selling them with all of the other clothes, right?"

Koushiro turned to Eimi to confirm and found a stiff smile.  "I guess... that's true..."

Reassured, Koushiro selected another shirt.  This one was black and decorated with pink flowers and orange goldfish. Eimi made a strange sound as he added it to the try pile.  "Is something wrong?" Koushiro asked.

His girlfriend coughed, then cleared her throat.  "Excuse me."

Koushiro nodded, then returned his attention to shopping.

 XXX

 Mimi and Eimi waited outside of the changing room while Takeru browsed and Koushiro tried on his impressive collection of items.  His selections were eclectic, but they were united around a theme: everything Koushiro picked was gaudy.

Mimi had only just returned to Japan, and Eimi had no say in her wardrobe when Mimi lived in Odaiba.  But from pictures and the little Mimi had seen in person so far, Eimi's tastes were as sophisticated as a high school freshman's could be.  Eimi seemed to prefer solid colors, and made statements with structure instead of pattern.

And she was quietly watching while her boyfriend picked out Hawaiian shirts and button downs adorned with giant goldfish.

Mimi leaned into Eimi with a Chesire cat grin.  "How you doin', girl?"

Eimi stared blankly back.  "Goldfish, Mimi."

Mimi's smile widened.  "I saw 'em.

Eimi held her hands up helplessly.  "It's not just me, right?  That shirt's an abomination."

Mimi laughed, then slapped a hand to her mouth to smother the sound.  Truthfully, that kind of shirt was gaining momentum with male models and idols- in short, it could be charming on boys whose livelihood was pulling off avant garde looks.

Koushiro was likely to look like a walking, on-fire fish tank.

"If you tell him you don't like something, I think he'd put it back," Mimi pointed out.

Eimi sighed and slumped against the wall.  "I know.  That's why I can't say anything.  The whole point of this is for him to figure out his style and interact with the clerks. He shouldn't dress to please me."

"True," Mimi said.  And she really did agree.  As a friend, Mimi was proud of Koushiro for trying something new.  And yet...  Wasn't it a girlfriend's duty to prevent her guy from wrecking himself?

Footsteps from the hallway had both girls looking up.  Koushiro stepped into the store area, holding his arms awkwardly out.

Mimi's manic smile was meant as a release, giving her just enough control to avoid falling into hysterics.  She glanced at Eimi and watched a tiny piece of her soul visibly depart.

"U, um."  Eimi cleared her throat a few times.  "I think those might be work clothes?  Like, for manual work."

Koushiro wore a utilitarian pair of overalls over what looked like a white thermal shirt.  It was true that overalls were a hot trend in women's clothing right now, but Mimi hadn't noticed it leaking into menswear.  Frankly, Koushiro looked like he had taken a wrong turn and ended up in Tokyo instead of the farm.

"It's comfortable," Koushiro said.  "And it seems unique."

That's because no dudes wear that here! Mimi's vision began to swim, obscured by a film of hysterical tears.

"D-do you like them?" Eimi asked.  Koushiro's brow knit, his brain churning over clothes instead of data for the first time.

"Um... I think so.  Maybe I'll look again..."

Koushiro turned around, and the girls were silent until they heard a door close beyond the wall.  "Oh, my god," Mimi whispered.

"I have to tell him," Eimi whispered back.  "I have to, right?  Like, morally obligated?"

"What if he pairs them with the goldfish shirt?" Mimi asked.  What little color Eimi had to spare drained, leaving her looking ill.

"I'll say something," Eimi declared.