#he came like that I've been trying to exercise him more to help him lose weight but it's easier said than done

[cheeseyturtle]

MOOSE I MUST SEE THE FIGGY PUDDING (came straight from that witch cat animation)

Oh ho ho yes. . . yES YES BEHOLD MY FAT BABY MAN !! Built like a raw chicken.

Also bonus with his brother from another mother Major Tom (as they be menaces and block me from my Entertainment)

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 4 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake gets some more insider information about Jessica, and he decides to let her know exactly what he intends to do next. The heated moments in her office are about to boil over, until Jessica is hit with the feeling that Jake is starting to run cold. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, eventually 18+

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Did you get her number yet?" Bradley asked in the locker room on Monday morning while Jake was changing into his flight suit.

Very begrudgingly, he said, "No, I did not." It had been almost a full day since he emailed Jessica, and all he got in return was radio silence. 

"Damn... I've been messing around with my wife all over campus. I got a blowjob in a lecture hall last week, and you still don't have a phone number?"

Jake just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm hoping I'll see her again tomorrow."

"Sugar was right," Bradley said, shaking his head as he zipped up his own flight suit. "You're losing your touch."

Jake slammed his locker closed. "It's not like she's some random tag chaser from the Hard Deck, okay?" he growled. "She's smart, and she's gorgeous. And I doubt she's handing her phone number out to anyone who looks at her. I'm not in a rush for once."

Bradley smirked and held his fist out. Jake very slowly hit it with his own fist. "What is this?" he asked cautiously after the fist bump. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Sugar said she'd eat lunch with Dr. Reed today and try to see what's up, but only if I could determine if you really liked her and weren't just trying to fuck her."

Jake stopped the smart response on his lips before the words came out. He still wasn't sure what kind of rumors were circulating about Jessica, and he definitely didn't want to add to anything by coming on too strong or being an ass. Part of him was convinced he needed Bradshaw's wife on his side to make it to the next step. So he said, "I've been spending the vast majority of my time thinking about cooking dinner for her while she reads to me from a scientific journal. Not sure if that's the kind of information your wife is looking for."

Bradley looked shocked and his face paled. "Huh. If she has a titty tattoo, you're screwed, man. Completely fucked." But he was reaching for his phone now. "I'll text my wife and let her know."

"Thanks," Jake grunted, checking his email app one last time before closing his locker and heading out toward the hangar. As he looked over his jet and filled in the safety protocol sheets, he kept thinking about her. She would be fascinated by this, seeing all of her mathematical knowledge playing out. He could take her up in the air with him, and she would be delighted the entire time.

Jake would have already taken Jessica out to dinner last night and dropped her off at home with a kiss. But this wasn't playing out the way he imagined it would. If Bradshaw's wife didn't help clue him in on what was going on here, then tomorrow would be his last attempt. He was on the verge of getting his hopes up. He couldn't even look at the patch on his flight suit the same way anymore. Not after her elegant fingers had skimmed along the golden threads. 

But he pushed everything from his mind the best he could, and he got up in the air for the training exercises with Phoenix and Bob. But when he got back to his locker around five o'clock, he saw an email from Jessica that had been sent eight hours ago. Jake nearly dropped his phone as he tried to open the app.

Dear Lieutenant Seresin,

I'm so pleased to hear that you enjoy the journals as much as I do. If you keep reading them from front cover to back cover, I'm sure you'll be rewarded with the knowledge that you're craving. I might even have to pull some of my own published articles for you to read... if you think you can handle that sort of thing.

My equations are not for the faint of heart. Bring your pencil on Tuesday but leave your skateboard. I wouldn't want to have to lecture you about skating in the academic buildings. We could be there all night. 

Perpetually looking forward to my office hours now,

Dr. Jessica Reed, Ph.D

P.S.- If you liked that photo and are well behaved, maybe you can have more. Ones that aren't listed on the university website.

Jake had to juggle his phone again as he read the post script. "Holy shit," he drawled, his eyes skimming along the words a second and third time. He was in. He had to be? This was sent before any sort of lunch could have happened between his favorite physics professor and his favorite math professor. "Shit, shit, shit. Bradshaw!" Jake ran back past the lockers and toward the showers. "Bradshaw!"

"What?" Bradley called back from one of the stalls where steam was rising from the top, voice echoing loudly.

"What did your wife say?" Jake asked impatiently. 

"Jesus, Hangman. I don't know. I haven't checked my phone yet."

Jake sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Well, how much longer are you going to be?"

"For fuck's sake! I don't know! I'm literally taking a shower. Is nothing sacred?"

Jake muttered, "I really need your wife's phone number," as he wandered back to sit on the bench in front of his locker and read the email again. 

A few minutes later, a glaring Bradley strolled back over in his towel, reached into his locker and tapped his passcode into his phone. "Here, knock yourself out," he said, handing it to Jake. But then he snatched it back quickly with a look of panic. "Actually, let me just scroll and make sure she didn't send a dirty picture," he mumbled, swiping along his phone screen. "Nah, you're good."

Jake quickly found the one long message at the bottom of the thread and started to read it. 

Thanks for packing my lunch today. I feel ridiculously spoiled when everyone else has to eat a sad looking microwave meal or grab something from that horrifying food truck next to Chippy's. You're the absolute best. 

Jake glanced to where Bradshaw was getting dressed and fixing his hair. You might not immediately know it by interacting with him, but the man clearly loved his wife. 

I shared some of the veggies and hummus with Jessica. I still don't know what went down with her and Brian Conley, but it's creepy the way he looks at her. But anyway, lunch was nice. I think I made a new friend? Because she's not annoying or old or a man, and she doesn't try to talk over everyone else. Oh, and she's definitely into Jake. She started to fidget and adjust her glasses when I told her that I saw him at the Hard Deck over the weekend and he asked about her. She's cute as a button. Tell Jake to just Keep Truckin' (that's a Grateful Dead reference for you, Beer Boy. Reward me later.)

"Truly, the two of you are disgusting," Jake said as he reached for his own phone. "I'm saving your wife's phone number." Once he had it saved in his contacts, he gave Bradley his phone back. "Thanks."

"Sure," Bradley grunted. "She get you what you were hoping for?"

Jake just smirked. "Dr. Tits never lets me down."

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

Jessica tried not to let her hesitancy show when she was invited to have lunch with the only female with tenure in the math department. This wasn't even the first time recently that she thought she might be able to make a friend at work, but she didn't want to get ahead of herself. One small step at a time with these things. She still wasn't exactly sure who to trust around here. 

But when the other woman knocked on her door promptly at noon, Jessica opened her door and smiled. "Do you want to eat in here?" she asked, noting the lunchbox the other woman was holding which had a funky tie dye print. 

"Sure, AP," she replied with a smile. Jessica's heart swelled with happiness; they actually had nicknames for each other. Advanced Physics and Advanced Calculus.

"Have a seat, AC," she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Jessica knew her husband worked with Jake, and she really wanted to ask about him. But out of extreme caution, she kept her mouth shut as far as he was concerned. The last thing Jessica wanted was to make this kind female who was close to her own age and who seemed really cool thinking she was only interested in talking about the aviator she was crushing on. Instead she said, "So, tell me more about the mythical math department where they give tenure to women."

Then as she opened up the meal that her husband packed, she regaled Jessica with tales of fair treatment and an office with a view. And then she offered to share her lunch as Jessica ate a hot pocket. And while Jessica was munching on a carrot stick, the other woman said, "I was at this naval hangout over the weekend with my husband, and Jake was there. He asked me about you."

Jessica sat up straighter in her seat. There was still no response to her email from this morning, but she doubted Jake was allowed to just play around on his phone while operating a seventy million dollar aircraft. She slid her glasses a little further up her nose and said, "In an effort not to sound completely boy crazy... what did he want to know?"

She snorted. "Everything."

And that's when Jessica started to panic. Everyone in this part of San Diego State University had surely heard some rumors about her and Brian. She was mortified that this woman might have told Jake the truth. If she even knew the truth. But one of the lies or rumors would be just as bad. She wanted to hide under her desk now, and all she could manage to say was, "Oh."

But she just kept going. "Between you and me, Jake's going a little crazy that you apparently won't let him have your phone number? Which I think is absolutely what that man needs. So keep up the good work. He's too handsome, and he knows it. I don't think he's ever encountered someone like you before."

Jessica looked at her with wide eyes. "Be honest with me. How soon is he going to lose interest in a nerd who collects journals and does math problems for fun?"

But she just shook her head. "Lose interest? Probably never. Get frustrated and think you're not interested? Hmmm. I'm not sure."

But Jessica could feel her neck growing warm. She'd been pretty forward in her email to him earlier, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do. "Nobody could lose interest in Jake," she murmured, helping herself to some more carrot sticks. 

"Listen," the other woman said. "This is just from Advanced Calculus to Advanced Physics, okay?"

"Okay," Jessica replied with a laugh.

"Jake could probably get any woman he wanted, but he hasn't had much exposure to anyone except hardass military officers and tag chasers. I'd say you fall somewhere in between. Just be careful, okay?"

Jessica nodded in agreement, unsure exactly what she was agreeing to. But she found she liked the idea of falling somewhere in between for Jake. In her mind, it made her more unique than she actually felt. 

On Tuesday morning, she dressed in a matching set of lingerie just like she always did. But she chose a deep wine red, because it made her feel bold. And if Jake followed through with what he said, then he would be stopping by her office later today. Bold might be a necessity.

She was running her finger along the strap of her bra before tucking it into her lightweight sweater as her computer booted up. She had her coffee on her desk, but she didn't need it. She was so excited and filled with adrenaline, she felt like she might bounce around her small office. Then she gasped; there was a new email from jake.seresin waiting for her.

Dear Dr. Reed,

I'm hoping you'll have some time for me later today. I'm also thinking that one of these visits, my luck will run out. Will somebody else skateboard off with your heart? Will I have to compete with a whole line of aviators with detailed physics notes and sharpened pencils?

I won't be able to stand the heartache, so I wanted to let you know now that I'm going to ask you out tonight. I'm going to try to persuade you to join me at Chippy's for more beer and peanuts on Wednesday. I want you to have some time to think about your answer. Because if that's not something you want to do, then I'm going to need you to let me down very gently, Jessica. 

See you when I report to your office hours,

Jake

P.S.- If there actually is a whole line of aviators, I wouldn't be surprised in the least.

Oh, he was so smooth. And funny. And he was giving her the whole day to decide what she wanted to do. Jessica squeaked and smiled behind her coffee cup. He must have sensed her hesitance, but he didn't seem annoyed. Rather he seemed like going to Chippy's with her again would make him really happy. Chippy's of all places. Her of all women. 

With a few minutes until her schedule really started for the day, she stood and knelt in her dress pants in front of her bookshelf. There was a specific journal with a specific article that would be just perfect for what she had planned. Once she located it, she tucked it away in her top drawer, and then she went back for a few more journals that she could send home with Jake. 

And as far as Chippy's went, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. Last time they were there, she'd had the best time talking to him, and they hadn't even gotten into many personal topics. Of course she did run away terrified that he was trying to two time his wife or girlfriend. But this time around would be different. 

She snatched up her folders and lecture notes and locked her door behind her, knowing she would have to contend with Luca and all of her other students before she would get to see Jake at all. So she buckled down and got to work. Three lectures, one lab class and one recitation later, she wandered back up to her office, absolutely starving and exhausted. 

The sad salad she pulled out of her mini fridge and the thermos of lemonade would just have to do. It was already after three o'clock, and she had exams to grade. The fact that she had the worst schedule out of everyone in the physics department was not lost on her as she forced her salad down and dreamed about something homemade. It was ridiculous how jealous she was of the packed lunches that her calculus counterpart always had. 

Two huge stacks of exams later, Jessica made note that she had five students who were failing their classes. Gently, she removed her glasses and let her forehead come to rest on her desk. Her office hours were about to begin, and as excited as she had been to see Jake earlier this morning, she kind of wished more of her students would visit her. It was early in the term, and they had time to turn their grades around, but still. 

At 5:30 she propped her door open and waited. As long as Dr. Leeland didn't stop by today, she'd call it a win. She gave extra practice problems to Nia, and she helped Benji correct his mistakes on his lab calculations, and then she waited. After she checked the time on her computer, she turned off the monitor. It was 6:45. She'd been on campus since 8:00. She was hungry again. And she was starting to feel like an idiot.

"Reedy."  

Her eyes met his pretty green ones instantly. Perched in her open doorway with his notebook in hand, he looked like everything she wanted. Jeans and a black tee replaced his uniform today, and he was just stupidly handsome. 

"Jake."

He nodded toward the hallway, and she saw a sharpened pencil tucked behind his ear. "Would you like me to close the door?"

"Please," she replied softly as she stood behind her desk. When the door clicked into place, she imagined herself locking it and doing the dirtiest things in her office with Jake Seresin. These same thoughts circulated her brain as she tried to fall asleep every night now. She'd have him pushed up against the wall with her lips on his neck. Or she'd push him down onto her chair and straddle one thick thigh.

She was jarred back to reality as he made his way over to her desk with a soft smile. "I tried my hand at some of these equations," he drawled. "Can't quite figure them out. Don't seem to have the right numbers."

Then he reached up, and Jessica watched him take that pencil into his hand. "Would you like me to show you how it's done?" she asked with a smirk. 

"Oh, you know I would." Hungry eyes roamed over her face as he handed the pencil over to her. His fingers felt rough when they brushed hers, and she had to fight to keep her mind focused on the math in his notebook. 

"Have a seat," she told him, and she knew the fun was just about to begin. 

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

Jake eased himself down into the chair opposite Jessica's desk, and he looked up at her where she stood. She had his pencil in her hand, and as she reached into her drawer to retrieve her calculator, he watched her pretty, red sweater slide a few inches down her shoulder revealing her bra strap. It was a darker shade of red. It looked beautiful against her skin. 

"You're using the wrong formulas," she said with a smirk. "You can't expect the physics problems to respond to the wrong math."

"Show me how it's done, Jessica." 

She bit her lip, and when she bent at the waist, Jake couldn't fathom how her students were able to pay attention in her classes. Her body was absolutely sinful looking. And when the tip of his pencil pressed against the notebook page, Jake's eyes drifted to the front of her sweater. That bra was even prettier than he imagined. His cock pulsed in his snug jeans. Lace. Just lace and her gorgeous cleavage. 

He grunted and her eyes met his. Was she doing this on purpose? Did she know how good she looked to him right now? Did she have any fucking clue how crazy she was making him? No. He could tell she had no idea how much she was messing him up. 

Then she wrote out the set of formulas that he would need to use before spinning the notebook around so it was facing him. "Give it a try," she said, setting her calculator and his pencil next to it. 

As Jake leaned closer to her desk to take a look, Jessica walked around to the other side. She perched herself next to where he was working, his fingers just inches away from her thigh as he desperately tried to remember the difference between thrust and propulsion. 

"Are you distracting me on purpose?" he asked without looking away from the notebook. 

"Do you find me distracting?" she asked softly, and Jake chuckled. 

"You know I do," he said before dropping the pencil and standing. He towered over her as he gingerly placed his hands on the desk, bracketing her in. "You know I do, Jessica."

His face was close to hers, but she didn't shy away at all. The devilish grin that found its way to her lips was begging to be kissed away until she was moaning his name. But he didn't move an inch. 

"I thought you had something you wanted to ask me tonight," she whispered as one high heeled foot met his calf, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. 

He jerked his chin up an inch. "Baby, if you won't go to Chippy's with me tomorrow, it's gonna break my heart."

As soon as her teeth pressed into her plush lip, Jake could see that grin return to her face. When he moved a fraction of an inch closer, she gasped and said, "I couldn't possibly go out with a guy who can't get his thrust equation down correctly."

Jake smirked and pushed off from the desk, leaving her and returning to his vacant seat. Then he read through the formulas she had written for him. And then he worked out his constants and entered his variables. When he punched everything into her calculator, he came up with an answer. And then he double checked it. Because the last thing he wanted Jessica to be concerned about was him knowing all about the power of thrust. 

When he handed her the notebook, he eased himself further back into the seat. She adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers and then started to skim the page to check his math. But that pretty smile was still present, and soon she closed the notebook and then set it down next to her thigh. 

She met his gaze and held it. "I would love to go back to Chippy's with you." 

That meant his math was correct. It probably also meant that she made her mind up earlier today but just wanted to toy with him. And he could become fucking addicted to that. 

"Just tell me what time, and I'll meet you there," he promised, heart thudding in anticipation of another evening spent with her.

"Seven?" she asked softly. 

"It's a date."

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

Jessica stopped home between her last class and the beginning of her date at Chippy's. Every time she thought about it, she started laughing. A college dive bar was hardly the most romantic place in San Diego to grab a drink, but somehow it was exactly perfect. She ate dinner quickly and then changed out of her pantsuit. 

The mirror in her walk in closet caught her attention, and she spun to inspect her body in the royal blue bra and thong. Not bad. But she wasn't sure how to dress. And she wasn't planning on letting Jake see this pretty set. Yet. They hadn't even kissed. He still didn't have her phone number. But that made her giggle as she tried on a few different pairs of jeans before settling on ones that were high waisted and hugged her body.

She chose a cute blouse and then slid on a pair of high heels before heading back to campus. As she parked near the bar, she checked her makeup one last time in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. She looked good. Better than good. Then she grabbed the journals and her purse from the front seat and headed inside.

The peanut shells that littered the floor stuck to the bottoms of her shoes, and the crowd of students was a little loud. But she liked it here anyway. When Chippy himself looked up from the bar, he smiled at her. 

"Reedy," he said with a wave. "A beer?"

But she shook her head. "Not yet. I'm meeting someone. He should be here soon."

His brow scrunched up. "That same one? In the uniform?" When she nodded, he said, "Careful with those ones, Reedy."

And his words hung in the air as she found an empty high top with two stools. For the past year she'd kept to herself. Kept her nose clean. Stayed away from not only the bad guys, but really guys altogether. Was she making a mistake here? 

She checked the time on her phone. 7:04. Then she skimmed the journal she brought with her which contained her very own recent publication. Then she checked her phone again. 7:17. Chippy dropped off a bowl of peanuts, and she cracked one open as her brain started to tell her that she was being stood up. Because suddenly it was after 7:30 and there was no sign of Jake.

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

Jake, what the hell, man? You're only going to get one chance here. Loving the Beer Boy and Sugar moments. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

@daggerspare-standingby

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-joyride

@theharddeck

@captain-beskar

@withakindheartx

@roosterscockpit

@whatislovevavy

@rosesreekofoccasion

@hangmanbrainrot

@neferpatra

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@mygyn

@hoyaharper

@tallyovie

@gennyanydots

@callsign-magnolia

@whisperofsong

@seriouslyseresin

@double-j

@bradshawsbitch

@sugarcoated-lame

@katiebby04

@anotherr-fine-mess

@supernaturaldawning

@chassy21

@strrywmen

@tylerjones98

@captainjaspenor

@gigisimsonmars

@fanboyswhore9

@angel-w0nderland

@abaker74

@idontcare-11

@isaebellaa

@bringnattolife

@xoxabs88xox

[switchypanic]

One Last Trust Exercise || A 'Hazbin Hotel' Tickle Fic

Summary: The night before The Extermination, the hotel crew decides to play a game of truth or dare. After all, what do they have to lose? They'll probably all be dead the next day anyways. However, a few interesting secrets come to light, and the evening takes a surprising turn.

Content Warnings: Canon-typical language and MINOR spoilers for the beginning of episode eight.

Word Count: 2,475 words.

Nobody was excited for what tomorrow would bring. The threat of imminent, painful failure loomed over their heads, unable to be masked by alcoholic beverages or (attempts at) rousing speeches. For them to survive, it was going to take a miracle, and Heaven had not been too keen on giving those out up to that point. However, there was a small bright side to the situation, as hard as it is to believe.

With little left to lose, the hotel staff were oddly relaxed with each other, showing the most affection and open comradery towards one another that Charlie had ever seen from the group. Husk and Angel were sharing drinks and snickering softly to each other at the bar, the former overlord absentmindedly cleaning a few shot glasses as the spider demon watched, barely muffling snickers behind one of his many hands. Whatever the two were joking about was lost on the princess, not that she minded in the slightest.

Nifty was rambling to Cherri Bomb about her newest creation, a morbid adaptation of 'Romeo and Juliet' which utilized the many roaches she had exterminated as puppets, garnering looks of concern and feigned smiles of encouragement from her captive audience. From a few meters away, Alastor listened in silently, his ever present smile somehow even wider than usual, betraying his clear amusement at the situation before him.

And then there was Vaggie, mumbling quiet words of encouragement to Sir Pentious in the far corner of the room, away from any prying ears. The snake demon fiddled with his hat, eyes flickering over to Cherri Bomb, causing his hood to flare open for a moment before he forced it back down with his hands. Charlie couldn't help but giggle; Vaggie wasn't the best at flirting herself, yet she was still trying her best to be a good wingman. If Charlie had thought she couldn't possibly be any more in love with the woman, she was being proven wrong yet again.

Charlie felt a pang of anxious sadness in her heart, knowing that all of the progress they had made could be undone in a single instant tomorrow morning. A single pierce from an exorcist's blade could mean the end, the final end, for any one of them. It could mean the sudden and cruel end of everything they had been working so hard to achieve.

The princess wrung her hands, blinking back tears as she attempted to calm herself down. Getting all worked up in front of everyone wouldn't help matters. No, she needed to do something to get her mind off of tomorrow. Scouring her mind for any ideas, one suddenly came to her, and her usual smile returned in a flash.

Clearing her throat, Charlie climbed atop of the nearby coffee table, careful not to accidentally knock over one of the many whisky glasses left strewn about. "Um, excuse me everyone! Can I have your attempt for a moment?" She yelled.

The various conversations paused, heads turning expectantly towards her.

"I had an idea for one final trust exercise for us to do before tomorrow; truth or dare! Anyone who wants to play is welcome to, but it's totally not mandatory!" Charlie announced. "Like I said, spend tonight however you guys want! I just thought it might be fun for us to-"

"Sounds fun to me!" Angel Dust interrupted, a playful smirk plastered to his face as he got to his feet. "Haven't played that since before I bit the bullet back on Earth. What do you say, Husk? You in too?" The actor asked, glancing over his shoulder at the cat demon.

Husk hummed, seemingly thinking it over. "Aah, what the hell? Why not? Not like I've got much else to do tonight." The bartender replied, shrugging.

Charlie turned her attempt to Nifty, who was bouncing on her toes with excitement. "Oh, I love that game! I love that game!" The short sinner squealed.

Cherri Bomb couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Fuck yeah, I'm in too! Last time I played that, I got to spend ten minutes in a closet with some super hot hellhound!"

From across the room, Charlie noticed Pentious' face go bright red. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with such a game...but I would be willing to learn!" The snake demon pipped in. "This...Truth Or Dare, as you called it, does sound quite intriguing. How about you, Vagatha? Shall you be joining in as well?"

Vaggie rolled her eyes. "NOT my name, dude. We've been over this. But...yeah, why not?" The former Exorcist shot her girlfriend a gentle smile, and Charlie felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

Now, it seemed the only one left to answer was...

Charlie turned her attention to Alastor. The overlord hadn't moved from his previous position, though his expression had changed ever so slightly, bearing an emotion that Charlie couldn't quite discern. "Al? What about you?" The princess asked, offering an encouraging smile. "You want to play? No pressure, of course!" She half expected him to say no. Alastor was a private man, and while he often enjoyed messing with others, he didn't seem the type to play a game which could leave him vulnerable in some capacity.

However, to her surprise, the radio host let out a small laugh and quickly strode over to her. "Why not? I'm afraid I'm also unfamiliar with such a game, though I have been told I'm a fast learner!" Alastor replied.

Charlie squealed with excitement, jumping off of the table and ushering everyone forwards. "Great! Alright, everybody get into a circle on the floor!" She instructed, plopping down on the carpet with a soft thud. Vaggie took the seat to her right, as expected, and Nifty to her left. Alastor positioned himself between Nifty and Sir Pentious, the later of which had strategically made sure to claim a seat next to Cherri. Finally, Angel and Husk finished out the circle (were Charlie's eyes deceiving her, or was Husk ever so slightly wrapping a wing around the actor).

The princess clapped her hands with excitement. "Okay, since some of you haven't played before, I'll explain the rules! When the game starts, I'll ask one of you to pick truth or dare. If you pick truth, you have to answer whatever question I ask honestly. If you pick dare, you have to do whatever I dare you to. Once you've done either of those things, it's your turn to ask somebody else!"

Sir Pentious raised a hand. "ANYTHING you ask or dare? What if you wanted me to sign over my soul?" He asked, shooting a distrusting look at Alastor.

Charlie hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Good point! I guess it would be a good idea to put some rules in place, just for safe keeping. If there is a truth or dare you really aren't comfortable with doing, use the safeword...apple!"

"And how do we know if somebody is telling the truth?" The snake demon continued, head cocked to the side with curiousity.

"That's the thing, we're working on the honor system! It's up to you guys to stay truthful with us. Remember all of our previous exercises; you can trust everyone here!"

Husk snorted. "Suuure..." He grumbled, also shooting Alastor a nasty look. If the deer demon was bothered by the group's apparent distrust in him, he didn't show it.

"Alright, I'll go first! Hm....Vaggie, truth or dare?" Charlie asked, beaming from ear to ear as she turned towards her girlfriend. The former Exorcist chuckled, shaking her head.

"Truth."

"Okay then, what's your favorite food?" Angel could be heard snickering from across the circle; of course Charlie would pick such a vanilla question.

"Empanadas."

"See?" Charlie squealed with delight. "It's super easy! You'll all get the hang of it in no time! Okay, Vaggie, it's your turn to ask someone!"

"Oookay..." Vaggie slowly glanced around the circle, taking a moment to think before selecting her target. "Cherri, truth or dare?"

The bomb expert grinned impishly. "You kiddin' me? Dare, mate!"

"Then I dare you to...do a cartwheel."

Cherri Bomb scoffed, getting to her feet. "For real? I can do that in my sleep!" She retorted, easily demonstrating her point as she completed the dare with ease. Nifty clapped excitedly, letting out a maniacal giggle.

"Bravo, bravo!"

Cherri looked over to the shorter demoness, chuckling as she sat back down. "Alright, pipsqueak, your turn! Truth or dare?"

The janitor was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oooh, dare! Dare!"

"Then I dare you to give ol' Angie here a taste of the tickle monster treatment, yeah?" Cherri replied, sending a knowing smirk to her friend.

Angel, who had been preoccupied whispering something to Husk, sputtered in shock. "What the fuck? Cherri!" The actor cried out, a look of betrayal on his face. "Did you have to throw me under the bus?!"

The other shrugged. "Sorry, mate! I'm kinda limited on the kinds of dares I'm allowed to give at this bloody place."

Angel's head snapped in Nifty's direction, his heart racing as the tiny cyclops scuttled over to him, giggling with excited glee. "N-Now Nif, we can talk about this, yeah?" A grin was already starting to tug at Angel's lips, and while he leaned back slightly, he made no real effort to get away.

"Sorry, a dare's a dare!" Nifty launched herself forward, nearly knocking the actor onto his back with the force of her movement. The smaller sinner's fingers immediately found their way to Angel's sides, digging in with chaotic zeal. Angel let out a surprised yelp, biting down on his lip in a vain attempt to contain his chuckles.

"Nohoho! Nifty, cohohome on! Lemme gohohohoho!"

"Ah, he doesn't mean that! Just look at him; he's barely fighting back!" Cherri replied, grinning deviously. "Wait, not barely fighting back, more like not fighting back AT ALL."

From across the rug, Charlie was cooing at the endearing sight, and even Vaggie was starting to smile a little.

"Aaw, this is so cute!" The princess gushed.

"You think this is cute? Lil' gremlin ain't even gettin' one of his really good spots. You latch onto one of those, he's DONE FOR." Cherri was determined to fluster the shit out of him, wasn't she?"

Angel's face turned a brilliant shade of pink, his face burrowing into his hands in an attempt to hide itself. "Cheheherri, shuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!" He whined. Next to him, Husk couldn't contain the teasing grin tugging at his own lips.

"Well, well. Never would have pegged you as the ticklish type, considering your line of work."

Angel collapsed backwards onto the carpet as Nifty was gently pried off of him by Cherri, supporting his upper body on his elbows. It seemed the brief attack had been enough to satisfy his companion's mischievous streak, though Nifty herself was protesting over her fun being cut short. "Oho, cohohome off it. Everybody's a bit ticklish, ain't they?" He retorted.

"Not me." Husk replied smugly. A burst of laughter rang out from across the circle; it seemed Alastor was finally ready to speak up.

"Now Husker, it's not very nice to lie to one's friends, is it?" The Radio Demon chided, shaking his head in disapproval. The cat demon shot him a glare, wings puffing up slightly.

"I ain't lying!"

Alastor hummed, grin sharpening as a devious glint entered his eyes. "Funny, I seem to remember you rolling on the round, wheezing with laughter during your last shedding season. If I recall correctly, Nifty had decided to take a grooming brush to your wings. Ringing any bells?"

While not especially evident because of his fur, Husk knew that he was blushing up a storm. "You shut it!" He growled, tail flicking back and forth in flustered irritation.

"There's nothing to be embarrased about, Husk! I'm ticklish, and as we all just saw, so is Angel! It's completely normal!" Charlie chimed in, attempting to offer reassurance. "It wouldn't surprise me if everyone here was to some degree!"

"Hey, stop draggin' me into this!" Angel groaned. "Though I suppose she does have a point; I ain't never met somebody who ain't ticklish SOMEWHERE!"

"I'm not!" Nifty said, beaming with pride.

"Yeah, suuure." Cherri chuckled in response, shaking her head.

"I'm afraid little Nifty is quite right; both Husker and I have attempted to tickle her on multiple occasions, to no success." Alastor said, sharing a sharp-toothed smile with the little cyclops. "She seems to be indestructible when it comes to tickling."

Happy to have the conversation directed away from his own sensitivity, Husk nodded. "As much as I hate to say it, Smiles is right on that front. The girl's a walking fortress; no cracks in the foundation."

Noticing that Sir Pentious had been oddly quiet, Vaggie gave him a gentle nudge. "How about you?" She asked, wanting to ensure the snake demon felt included.

Pentious flinched, hood flaring out slightly. "Who, me?" He chuckled nervously. "Why, the great Sir Pentious isn't ticklish! It would be rather unbecoming of a villain such as I, would it not?"

"Not necessarily. Anyone can be ticklish, even villains." Charlie said gently.

Angel Dust snorted with laughter. "You say that, but somehow I have a hard time picture Al rolling on his ass and laughin' up a storm!" The actor butted in, pointing an accusatory finger at the overlord. "What IS the deal with YOU, huh? You got anything your wanna admit to the group?"

The faint sound of buzzing radio static could be heard lingering in the air. "Me? Why, I don't see how that's any of your business, is it?" Alastor replied, head cocking to the side as if to challenge the other demon.

"That ain't a no." Angel retorted with a small smirk.

Nifty jumped to her feet, waving her arms about excitedly. "Oh, oh! He is! He is! This one time, I-" The little demoness was cut off as Alastor scooped her up, pressing a palm against her mouth.

"Now, now, my dear! Some things are best left a secret, hm?"

"No fuckin' way, I wanna hear it!" Angel leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. "Go on, Nif! Tell us aaall about it!" As Nifty squirmed in Alastor's hold, frantic talking could be heard muffled behind his hand. A moment later, Alastor suddenly released his grip, lip curling as he recoiled in disgust.

"Did you just LICK my hand?!"

Charlie knew she should probably put a stop to things before they got too crazy; that she should redirect the group back to the game. However, seeing the pure, silly interactions they were having, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. After all, why not let them have their silly little squabble?

After tomorrow, it could be a good, long while before any of them could relax again.

[levithestripper]

how the members of the survey corp and marley warriors would train with you

masterlist

warnings: gender-neutral reader

included characters: eren yeager, armin arlert, mikasa ackerman, jean kirstein, marco bodt, connie springer, sasha braus, reiner braun, bertolt hoover, annie leonhart, porco galliard, levi ackerman, erwin smith, and mike zacharias.

length: 1.5k || read on ao3 || join my taglist

a/n: hi y'all. i never thought i'd be writing for attack on titan again, but here we are lmao. i've been rewatching the series from the beginning, and this is the result of that. anyways, some are more 'x reader' than others, but i hope y'all enjoy it!

— Eren Yeager

When you ask Eren to help you train, this boy gets so smug you can practically see his ego grow three sizes larger. You know you’re probably better off asking someone else who’s better, but you know Eren appreciates it when you go to him. He likes to show off and impress you, so you get more of a show than actual training assistance. Still, you appreciate the effort Eren puts into trying to help you out. Eren falls on his ass more than he likes to admit, making you hide your laughter behind your hand. 

— Armin Arlert

Asking Armin to train with you surprises Armin more than anything. Him? You want to train with him?! He immediately rejects your offer, saying he can’t possibly help you with anything that isn’t tutoring. However, you insist upon it, assuring him that you want his help and prefer it over others. The training you guys do isn’t intense; instead, it focuses on the areas you said you needed to improve. Armin always pulls his punches, never wanting to seriously harm you. But if you insist upon it, he will come at you in full force, just not very happily. Afterward, Armin apologizes profusely for possibly hurting you, and you reassure him you’re fine. Expect a flurry of hugs from him and a part of his supper rations, but he denies knowing anything about where your extra food came from. 

— Mikasa Ackerman

Mikasa isn’t keen on helping you, viewing you as something that will only slow her down from achieving her goal of being as strong as she can be to protect Eren. It takes you a few minutes to convince her that you won’t get in the way or be a burden, simply wanting to shadow her, spar with her, and pick up any techniques that make her such a good fighter for yourself. Realizing you didn’t want her to teach you, Mikasa accepts your request, warning you that she doesn’t go easy or pull her punches. It’s safe to say that you hurt all over come supper time, wincing from the hard wooden benches in the mess hall. 

— Jean Kirstein

Similar to Eren, Jean is cocky as hell when you come to him for training help. He doesn’t stop until you threaten to ask Eren instead, which makes him shut up and behave. Jean’s a decent spar partner, so you’re in good hands with him. You’re decently matched against him, winning about half of the rounds and losing the other half by only a second or two. He’s better at the knife-disarming move than you are, though, which he teases you for.

— Marco Bodt

Marco is flattered that you picked him out of everyone else. Being the definition of an average fighter, Marco didn’t think there was anything he could help you with, but he’s ecstatic to spar with you regardless. After all, it’s time Marco gets to spend with you. And if you think he’ll go easy on you because you’re his partner, you’re sorely mistaken. Marco loves you and wants you to be as prepared for the world as possible, seeing no benefit in pulling punches. But that’s not to say he’ll beat you up, obviously. After all, this is only an exercise, so you’re relatively unharmed, ignoring the scattered bruising. 

— Connie Springer

Connie is more than eager to train with you, joking around and laughing the entire time. He knows he should take it more seriously, but Connie can’t help having fun with you instead, completely ignoring the current exercise. He’ll hide behind you and tap your shoulder, waiting for you to turn around before ducking just out of your view. When you finally catch him, you’re dizzy and out of breath from laughing so hard. Your efforts are rewarded with a peppering of kisses all over your face <3

— Sasha Braus

Like Connie, Sasha is just as obnoxious during training but takes it a bit more seriously than he does. If you are serious about training, she’ll do her best to take it seriously with you. She’s not immune to Connie making faces at her from across the field, and frankly—you aren’t either. Typically, if you’re sparing with Sasha, you’ll end up with Connie, too. 

— Reiner Braun

Training with Reiner is like training with your long-lost twin. You read one other perfectly, evading and blocking each other’s swings like it’s nothing. You duck underneath his outstretched arm to kick him in the back of his knee, but Reiner is two steps ahead, spinning on his heel to knock your feet out from under you. He expects you to yield, but you don’t give up that easily. Sneaking between his spread legs to pop up from behind, it was your turn to knock him unsteady, twisting his arm behind his back and disarming him of the prop knife he wielded. It goes on like that until the quittin’ bell rings, except the roles reversed themselves every few rounds. 

— Bertolt Hoover

Bertolt is still such a sweetheart, even when he’s trying to pin you to the ground. He wants to win, but that doesn’t make his timidness disappear. You win more often than not, but you let him get the better of you sometimes. Watching a blush spread across his face and neck is worth letting him win. His blush worsens when you point it out, too. Still, he likes sparing with you, regardless of how well he does or not. 

— Annie Leonheart

Training with Annie is very similar to training with Mikasa. It’s not that Annie believes you’ll hinder her progress; it’s because she’s simply not good with people. Annie knows you can hold your own against tough opponents; she’s seen you go against people like Reiner and Eren and win. The best way to put it is that she feels awkward, not knowing how to help you or what she should say. You’re the only one able to render Annie speechless, a talent that immediately raises you above the rest in her eyes. 

— Porco Galliard

If you want to spar with Porco, you better be prepared to have your ass beat into next week. He’s out to prove he’s the best, and not even you can get in his way. He’s stubborn and afflicted with tunnel vision, blinding him from remembering how talented you are at it, too. Porco’s favorite move is pinning you on your stomach, twisting your wrist until you forfeit your prop weapon of choice. He’s stupidly cocky about it, too, straddling your hips and spouting snark while your face is shoved in the dirt. You may be talented at that day’s exercise, but somehow, Porco always has the upper hand, no doubt due to his Shifter abilities giving him heightened agility and reflexes. He’s always stupidly proud of himself afterward, bragging to his friends about how many times he’d pinned you. It earns him a sharp flick on his forehead from you.

— Levi Ackerman

You must be a glutton for punishment if you seek out Levi as a sparing partner. His version of training isn’t just sparring, oh no, no. First, he has you running laps around the courtyard for at least thirty minutes. And if he catches you jogging, he adds another ten minutes. You wanted the best, so you’ll have to endure everything he throws at you to get it. Next is calisthenics. Push-ups, thirty-second planks, burpees, sit-ups, dips, and wall sits are the bane of your existence for the next hour and a half. By now, your entire body aches, and your legs are shaky and exhausted. Levi gives you a break, allowing you to drink nearly your weight in water and grab a quick snack before his torture resumes. He gives you enough time to ensure you don’t vomit, but finally, it’s time for sparring once you’ve finished your snack break. Once he deems training to be done for the day, you ask him why he put you through such an intense workout just to spar. Levi’s reasoning? If your body was tired, you’d fight better. If you’re exhausted, you’ll seek out more ways to end the fight quicker and discover new techniques as you go. If you get frustrated enough after losing to him so many times, combined with your body’s exhaustion, you’d eventually find a hole in Levi’s attack and utilize it. 

— Erwin Smith

Training with Erwin isn’t much different than training on your own. He acts professionally throughout the exercise, seeing it as nothing to take lightly. Erwin doesn’t go easy on you, but he does pull his punches, not eager to send you to the infirmary just because of sparring practice.

— Mike Zacharias

Believe it or not, Mike is like a combination of Levi and Connie. Training with him will last hours, but he’s having fun with you while he does it. Mike is quick on his feet, darting this way and that, always out of reach. It’s almost like a dance you’re engaged in. Every time you miss, he’ll pop a teasing joke as if he’s goading you into catching him. When you think you’ve cornered him, Mike’ll knock your legs out from underneath you, claiming the win for himself. He’ll help you back up and reset the round, giving the prop weapon to you this time.

taglist: @myglitteringstardust, @alicchis-badonkadonks (sorry if this isn't you, it's the only blog that popped up when i typed in the user from my taglist form), @nxuvillette, @killeva, @aestosia, @aangzeo, and @fantasy-and-love.

[zemkzone]

I don't normally vent, but... TLDR: I was mugged in a city, a country, where I am a foreigner and the supposed friends who were helping me told another friend I was acting "entitled" to their help. It was heavily implied I had to APOLOGIZE to them. AITA or not AITA? I now have much bigger trust issues than I had last week.

Long version:

I've been living in the UK for almost 2 years, and I went down to London on Friday for a break from a stressful work-week. The first night went well, dinner and a show, and I fell asleep at a decent enough time to wake up early on Saturday for 9:30AM yoga with, for lack of a better term, friends of a friend. It was a relatively nice morning, so I decided to take one of the buses instead of schlepping my way down to the Tube (which I still call the subway most days coz, can you blame the proverbial Yankee visiting King Charles' Court?). I got off the bus in the City, what they call the business area in London as a whole, I have been made to understand. Google Maps told me it was an easy walk from the bus stop to the hotel where the yoga class was, but there were several alley/side road closures where the app wanted me to go. I was still on a nice, wide sidewalk, with few cars on the street and few people around me too. I paused at what felt like a safe intersection on that wide sidewalk, right by a modern glass building with CCTV hanging off it and CCTVs on the crosswalk traffic lights a few meters away. I was as far from the roadside as possible, and out of precautionary habit, I had my back turned to the road a little to protect the phone I had out in my hand. I was texting those sort-of friends that I was a few minutes out, and trying to get Google Maps to reroute me.

Suddenly, a black glove appeared in front of my face and my phone was snatched away by what looked like a man in an electric blue puffer hoodie, riding a bicycle on the sidewalk. I tried to chase him, but between the coffee I had to let go of and the duffle bag on my shoulder, it was hopeless. He disappeared around the corner I had been considering walking along myself, and I was left to ask for help from the four passersby at the crosswalk. Two of them happened to be a father and daughter (Brits, but also just visitors in London). The father wrote down my exact location and the time so I could report it to the police. When I said I had friends at a nearby hotel, he and his daughter helped me find my way to it. They didn't have to walk me in, but they did. "We'll wait here," he said at the top of an escalator, "and wait for you to give us a thumbs up if the receptionist has located your friends". The receptionist did, I signaled the two perfect strangers that all was well, and we waved goodbye as they headed off to continue their day.

What followed should have been an exercise in practicality. The boyfriend of one of those sort-of friends (let's call him M) and a hotel staffer helped me contact the police and cancel my debit card (which had been in my snatched cellphone's case). Two officers came to the hotel so I could give them my statement, etc. All the while, M sat with me, updating his girlfriend and the others who still continued on with their yoga session. The police asked me to take them to the spot where the crime occurred. M was still with me, and as we walked out of the hotel, his girlfriend (T) and more people than I expected (I'd only though I was meeting T and another friend I'll call W) came out to join us. I hadn't realized that a whole hour had passed since I'd arrived at the hotel. Their yoga session was over.

At that point, I was torn between (1) feeling marginally better because I had company who knew the city and (2) trying to keep it together in the face of everything that losing a smartphone in 2024 implies. After the police took down the added details at the incident site, T and co. asked me if I wanted to still go to brunch. I agreed since I needed to sit, was shaken, and, though I didn't feel it at the time, did need more than half a cup of coffee in my stomach. At the restaurant, I tried to stay in good spirits. Aside from T, M, and W, there were two people in the group I had never met before, and we were joined by yet another person. I managed to shovel down most of an avocado toast and an Irish coffee (I effing needed the boost). T and her friends had moved on from the usual "sorry that happened to you" and were playing catch up while I asked M where I could find my phone carrier and a place I could get a new phone. I'd come to the UK with the phone that had been snatched, and had only gotten a SIM-only plan with the carrier. I thought the practical thing, since I don't know how many more months/years I'd be in the UK, would be to buy a new phone, then have my carrier block the stolen phone's SIM and issue me a new one. M and I Google Mapped my options, added in my own hotel location so I could grab my passport on the way. I admitted that, considering everything, I (1) needed help getting navigating to those places from where we were and that (2) I didn't feel good enough to be alone just yet. We paid (I still thankfully have working credit cards) for our food and finally left the restaurant.

This is where, to my mind, the uncomfortable part started. Two of the extra 3 people (remember, I was only supposed to have been with T, W, and M, but they had a total of 3 other friends there too), and somehow what should have been a quick 20-30 minutes to get my passport from my hotel and then drop me off on the street with the phone and carrier store became 6 nerve-wracking hours with a too-large group. I said nothing when they started doing "for the gram" picture stops along the way. M went up to my hotel room with me when I got my passport. He took a photo of some passwords on my laptop that I might need when the phone or carrier store staff helped me with my phone. (In hindsight, we should have used pen and paper.) Then our group of 5 all went in what I assume was the direction of the two stores. W was navigating, and at that point, the streets were so crowded and I was getting very tense that I just trusted she knew what she was doing. In my mind, I kept replaying the mugging over and over, what I could have done differently, etc, etc. (I know what happened wasn't my fault, but at the time, I couldn't help it) and listing what I'd have to do first when I got the replacement phone and SIM. I didn't know T and co. well enough to tell them I was internally seeing red and trying not to spiral. Then, suddenly, we stopped walking... at a bubble tea place. I'd only vaguely heard what the group had been talking about as we walked along, since it seemed to be more Instagram/YOLO, etc stuff and no one was asking my input anyway. I smiled tightly and declined an offer for them to buy my bubble tea, opting to stand outside the store to work on staying calm. I didn't realize (hadn't been told) they wanted a break or anything, but I couldnt complain since I was literally dependent on them until I could get a new phone. We eventually got to the phone store, the last remaining extra person left, and I had to pay full price for a phone because as a foreigner I couldn't get on the monthly payment plans. T, M, and W, instead of just pointing me to the carrier store three shops down, came in with me and waited while I talked to the staff. At some point, W or T asked if I wanted coffee, and, while I thanked them for still being there, I declined the drink again. I thought they'd go off to a nearby café or something since I had paperwork, etc to fill. They and M never left. By the time I got the new SIM in the phone and the staff had advised me to go back to the store where I'd bought the phone to get help setting it up, M, T, and W were still there. They went back to the phone store with me, and T told me to stop being so anxious and sit down while we waited in the queue for assistance.

By then, it was almost 5 in the afternoon. The tech assistant helped as much as he could, since I was basically setting up my phone from scratch, but said I could do the rest with my tablet back at my hotel... or come back to the store with it before closing time so he could walk me through that part. T gave me a card with some of the friend-group's phone numbers, and she, M, and W still walked me to my hotel (I'm pretty sure it was unpromted, but my head was so foggy at that point from all I had done and still had to do). It turned out the hotel was a 10-min walk in a straight line from the phone shop. We got to the entrance to my hotel, I said thanks to them for being there the whole time, and they left. I handled grabbing my tablet and walking right back (in 5 min) to the phone shop to finish setup alone. The day ended with me exhausted, having a semi-functional phone that I'd have to wait to fully fix still when I got to my apartment (in a place I jokingly nickname the Shire) after the weekend, and crying to friends back in the States in a call over a lousy room-service dinner. I told them what happened, including my misgivings over all the YOLO stops, and they calmed me down and helped me a little more with fixing my phone.

I got at most two hours of sleep by the time the sun rose on Sunday morning... and then made myself presentable enough to meet A, the original London friend who had introduced me to T, W, and M where I first arrived in the country. I told him that while I was grateful for his friends' help the previous day, I didn't think I could go through that again. (I didn't exactly want to say "they're good-time people, but I don't know if I'd want the...awkward stops all over the place again if I were ever in another crisis around them.") What A said... upset me. T, M, and W had apparently complained to him that, while they still thought I was a lovely person (ah, Britishisms!) I acted "entitled" to their company the whole afternoon and was scowling too much. They didn't regret canceling plans for me, but I seemed "ungrateful in my human interactions with them". A all but said I had to APOLOGIZE to his friends.

I'm in my early 30s, with a no-nonsense, get-shit-done North American mentality and I'm aware my default expression, especially when I'm too tired, is RBF (resting bitch face, for those too young to know), and I feel terrible if I need to drag anyone at all into my messes. They're energetic and bubbly Brits in their late 20s. But they really could have left me at any point, just given me directions and left, and I would not at all have held it against them. Just like I was grateful and held nothing against that father with the kid who initially helped me after the mugging. Is this an AITA situation? Did I miss anything? Is this a subtle cultural/age/millennial-GenZ divide?

I'm still tired as FUCK, trying to get used to this new phone, and have a LOT of life admin to do suddenly after this whole weekend. If you have any thoughts or comments, whoever and wherever you are, feel free to say something.

[cowboypossume]

I'm Holding You To That

Hehe! @kamikothe1and0nly asked for a fedex sick fic and I will deliver !! I more went disabled rather than sick becasue that's something I have more experience with! When I'm sick I just pass out for 24 hours and mix medicine and don't talk to anyone, so I don't feel like that would have been the best story.

However, this has been in the drafts for long enough so...

Its time !!

Fitz couldn’t open the front door. 

The keys were in his hands, he was already on the porch, the next step should have been easy: moving. Just two more steps, a slight of the hand and he was inside. 

His vision was starting to blur, though. His heartbeat was too elevated. He knew the signs well. Something was about to go really wrong. 

Dex leaned against the door frame, barely cracking the door open. “We talked about this, Fitzy. You can’t expect your body to just suddenly jump back into full force.” 

“I know.” “Do you?” Dex swung the door open fully and started to walk away. 

“Yes, Deck.” Fitz came inside, barely closing the door behind him. “I’m in the same doctor’s appointments you are.”

Somehow they moved to the kitchen. Fitz knew somewhere that he should pin this and bring it up when his body wasn’t on the verge of collapsing, or he didn’t feel 3 seconds away from throwing up, yet he wanted this fight. It felt easier, somehow. “I know that losing a leg doesn’t mean I can go up from five miles in the morning to seven. I know that my body has 17 and half things wrong with it, and pushing the exercises only makes it worse. I know the same shit you do.”

“So why do you keep trying to over-exert yourself?” Dex’s words were harsh. Sharp and built up. “Why do you push yourself so hard you can’t even come inside the house because your body freezes? Why don’t you try gradually building up? Or any other option. It’s like you don’t care about yourself. Or how it’ll affect me.”

“That’s a bit of a fucking selfish viewpoint. What’s wrong with my body should have more weight than how you feel.”

There was a pause as they’d realized their feet were all-but-touching. 

“Ok, pause.” Dex sighed, taking a step back. “We’ve both had a long morning and this isn’t fair for either of us. Go take a shower, and we’ll come back to this when we’ve cooled down.”

Thirty minutes later, as Dex was plating something off the stove, Fitz sat on the kitchen counter. He was too tired to fully tell what was happening across from him, but it smelled good, and his body was in no position to object. 

The time of transition was filled with the clanging of pots and pans, until Dex handed him a fried egg on toast with something green alongside it. “About before, I know reminding you all the time doesn’t help. I’m just-” Fitz lightly grabbed the snack, putting it on the counter beside him. He brought his head against Dex’s, “Worried. I know. I appreciate that, I really do. But you have to remember this is my body. I've had the same one for 19 years now. I know its signals.”

“I know that, objectively.” Dex squeezed his eyes close and brought his nose against Fitz’s. “And I’m not trying to control you but you’ve said that exact phrase before. And I’ve believed it before. And I don’t want to be overbearing. I just . . .”  

Fitz brought his hand between Dex’s curls. “There was more going on than just my body Dex. We were literally kidnapped and tortured. Of course my health was at risk. ”

Dex wouldn’t look at Fitz. 

“But my gadget still failed you.” 

“Even if they worked we were still being tortured, Dex.” Clearly Fitz wasn’t getting through. He brought him in for a tight hug, trying to get him back. “You’re a wizard with the mechanical stuff, but that doesn’t fix shitty people being shitty. Or trauma being trauma.”

Dex’s head stayed down and his brain was somewhere else. “You’re changing the topic,” he mumbled. 

 Fitz shrugged. “I think it’s related, but we can just not address it, too. I can eat my toast in silence.”

Dex held him to that.

As Fitz washed off the dishes while Dex dried them, he let out a heavy sigh. “I know what happened to us isn’t easy to talk about, but not talking about its effects doesn’t change them. Maybe you’re right; I could be overstepping-” “No. I brought it up. Clearly I have something there that I still haven’t resolved. I just don’t think you and I should be the ones to unpack it in. Especially in the middle of the kitchen while you’re regaining strength from another stupid idea.” Dex winked at that last part. 

Fitz brought him in for a hug. 

“Ok sap,” Dex rolled his eyes. “We’re finishing these dishes.” “And this conversation.”

“Ok but that is going to happen after I go to therapy on Wednesday. We can finish this task now.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Dex kissed his cheek.

And Fitz finally felt safe.

[chocolate-failure]

I've been having a hard time writing. Not just fiction, I haven't wrote anything substantial in years but my ability to access my own thoughts and commit them to paper?? Cyber space?? Idk, my ability has been wavering for months and now I'm downright afraid to read or write. It's entirely garbage and feels very much like regression. It's pretty goddamn bad. Maybe I should make it a point to write every day to work those atrophied muscles.

I've been struggling with weight, not anymore than usual well actually... My body refuses to lose more than a pound in the bathtub. I had a real bad day last week which entirely fucked my progress when I was at 174 😒 god this fucking sucks. I think writing is a form of meditation that brings me a great deal of peace and when I can achieve peace I can better exercise discipline and self control. Idk I'm just having a hard time not backsliding back to 181...and like specifically that number.

I've been going to the gym every day for the past few weeks and the gym has a new front desk guy. I don't much care for being noticed or having my comings and goings clocked by strangers and he could just be being observant and friendly but... idk. On monday I came in much later than I usually do and he noticed. He made a little joke about it when I came in on time Tuesday ((my temp crown came off and I needed to get it glued back in) lmfao, why tf did i include this?). But erm, he's talked to me a few times asking me about my hair and clothes. He mentioned some harem pants I wore one day and I assumed he wanted to get his own pair so I told him where he could find them but he didn't seem much interested in buying some which mostly confused me. But after today I think he was just complimenting me.

But erm as I'm leaving today, he talks to me about my membership, saying that I have one they don't offer anymore. He says that I've been paying for 2 people for a long ass time when I'm the only person who comes in and that I could be saving $45 a month if I changed to the one person plan. Which like yeah, that's helpful, but why tf are you looking up my plan??? He says that the other person on the plan hasn't been in for a long af time 🥴 And I tell him my husband isn't the most athletic, but I'm gonna try to get him to come. He then tells me it's been since March 16, 2023 and it very much feels like he's shading dig which like I get but it's just odd. I'll have to see how he speaks to me now that he knows I'm married. Dudes tend to speak to me differently when they know I'm unavailable. They either become way less friendly or ramp up their efforts and pay me way more attention. I kinda rather neither happen cuz the implications are unpleasant. Idk... shit like this makes me scared to befriend cismen, especially black cismen.

[autumnimagining]

Saw you kinda freaking on that calorie post

My best advice is to build muscle. Do t focus on fat loss or the scale focus on eating healthy and make sure your body is healthy and building muscle. Obvs through cardio in if you enjoy it, but like focusing on body composition is more helpful that weight. And with some of the stuff you mentioned, yea, you can't perfect them and learning that your body is not something to sculpt and mold and behold and instead something to live it and love is both extremely difficult, speaking from experience, and extremely helpful. Find ways to move your body that feels good. For me that's, hiking, surfing, skiing, yoga and lifting. Focusing less on what your body looks like and more how you can use it helped me a lot. Speaking as a former anorexic and someone who's now in the overweight category on the BMI, but is also the healthiest and most generally content with life I've ever been.

I don't remember much about the post in question but I've been trying to think of how to respond to this. The response I've got here isn't the most thought-through or eloquent or anything. It's just. A response.

I hate my body.

Maybe I don't.

I have a relationship with my body. Quite how to characterise it, I don't know, but it sure as shit isn't a good one. Disordered, at the very least.

I've had body image issues for maybe 14 years? Ish? Ever since I came to university and realised I had to cook for myself and did so (badly) and put on weight.

My mother was not a great help in this regard. Neither was my father. His genes are probably the reason I've gained the weight I have in the place I have it (around my waist, I have a fantastic beer belly). But mum was the one who snipped at me about it, who - with the best of intentions - pressured me to be eating healthily and exercise more. I remember on one occasion when I was visiting home, as we were respectively going to bed, she saw me in my PJs and looked at my belly and very gingerly made to poke at it. She never actually poked at it but it was a theatrical intro to a brief lecture - one of many - about Not Turning Out Like My Father.

His health was bad. He smoked. Never exercised. Ended up paraplegic in a wheelchair with late-onset type-2 diabetes and high blood pressure and high cholesterol. Along with all that, he was doubly-incontinent and was thus in and out of hospital with UTIs, one of which finally carried him off.

The diabetes, blood pressure, and cholesterol were what concerned my mother, whose own parents had both died due to complications arising from strokes.

So I get it, Mum, I get it.

But Mum was also the kind of person for whom "everything in moderation" was actually the First Commandment. And a fat lot of good it did her when cancer took her away.

Against this fantastic backdrop, I have never been a person who has found it easy to stick with things under my own steam. I've tried Veganuary, I've tried Slimming World, both sucked ass, I tried Couch to 5k and that suuuuucked. It has only recently, within the last 18 months, that I have found bouldering and a personal trainer and found that Exercise Can Be Fun, Actually. Prior to that, and prior to university, my diet and my exercise were largely controlled by mum, save for at school where i could buy sweets from the tuck shop and did so to fill what turns out to have been a massive gaping emotional void caused by emotionally-distant (if well-meaning) parents.

Crashing into all of this like a wrecking ball was last year's revelation that I'm trans.

So, not only am I struggling against the weight of parental expectations and the genetics they've handed me AND the grief of losing both of them before I was 27, I also have the anxiety that they've instilled in me (if I don't pass this exam I won't get into a good school and i'll fail my GCSEs and then i won't receive love) AND the depression and burnout of all of this.

AND I'M TRANS.

So I'm also wrestling with my ingrained socially-inculcated and parentally-exacerbated fatphobia AND the ingrained sexist viewpoint of How Women's Bodies Should Look because I want, through my transition, to end up looking hot. I would give anything to walk down the street and see heads turning as I pass.

At no point in my life have I really ever enjoyed any level of confidence in my body, or even in my self. None of the athletic stuff I was doing while at school (swimming club outside school time) went anywhere - i was never good enough to be considered for even local sports teams. None of the talents in my life that i've cultivated - playing music, writing about music, writing creatively - have so far really gone very far. I struggle, sometimes, to feel that anything in my life has actually gone anywhere and that i have in fact achieved anything (I'm aware I've got achievements but they feel very flimsy a lot of the time).

So when I'm told that I can, in essence, lose some of the fat around my waistline by following a nice simple formula of "eat less, move more," I think "Great! I can do that!"

And that has worked for me in the past. It has. When I was on Slimming World AND i had a supportive partner who was able to keep me in check AND i was going to the gym at least once a week, THEN I was able to scratch away some of the weight I'd gained. That was 8 years and some 20kg ago.

Now? NOW? Now I get told that the formula isn't remotely that simple, doesn't work for everyone, is mostly a genetic lottery, and if you do lose weight you'll probably put it all straight back on anyway because 95-98% of people do.

So it feels like I might as well not fucking bother. Life's too short, cake beer and pizza are too delicious.

That feeling is in direct conflict with the ingrained ones mentioned above. I am terrified of becoming like my father. In all the ways that really matter I'm nothing like him, but I have his genetics so if I don't alter my lifestyle I will be looking down the barrel of high blood pressure and high cholesterol medicine when I'm 50. Did I mention that if I live to the age of 66 I will have outlived both of my parents?

So yeah. I freaked out. Because why wouldn't I freak out. Am I, truly, condemned to this body? To this flabby, exhausted, beer-gut dad-bod? No matter whether I take HRT, no matter whether I exercise to within an inch of my life and eat only kale? Am I? Because it feels like it.

It feels like it, no matter how hard I try.

And I.

Am.

TRYING.

I have one guy's Twitter thread saved on the matter, and his summary was basically "It has to absolutely dominate your habits. Not that you can't think of anything else, but when you are eating and exercising, the rigidity and consistency has to be stuck to above all else."

Life's too short. But if that's the way to go, so be it. Cake is delicious. Pizza is delicious. Beer is delicious. But I want to live. I want to go out in the world and see it all before it burns. I want to outlive not just my parents but my grandparents and be as sprightly at 90 as i am now. I do not want to be some dad-bod middle-aged moaner who struggles to get out of an armchair.

So I'm trying. I'm trying. I cycle to/from the train station, and I can put more bike miles into that particular journey. At my fittest, I was cycling ten miles a day and doing a 5-hour shift behind a bar six days a week. Even though my diet wasn't great, the amount of exercise I was doing made up for it. So I think, perhaps, that I have a shot at actually shifting some of the gut that I've developed. Maybe you're right, anon, and developing muscle is what I need to do. It's what the personal trainer is helping me do. And i am developing that muscle. It just doesn't seem to be shifting the gut. Again, I'm trying. I've simultaneously moved house and started a new job alongside having fallen out with a friend and somewhat isolated myself from my other friends, so my headspace isn't great at the moment which means my culinary thinking has largely consisted of "put calories in belly," leading to a lot more of the beige food everyone likes to tease us Brits about than is perhaps ideal. But I'm trying. I'm trying to make it so that I batch cook Something With Lots of Vegetables in. I'm trying to make it so that I snack on fruit or protein flapjacks instead of crisps and chocolate biscuits. I'm trying to make breakfast into a good meal that sets me up well for the day. I'm trying to sleep better because god knows i don't think i've actually had a consistent amount of rest since ........ uhhhhh *checks notes* probably 2013? Maybe 2019 if i'm being generous. And sleep is supposed to be good for weight loss and mental health and so on.

But the crawl of progress of this kind feels overwhelming. I can look back and see that progress has been made but it feels like a progress of inches at best instead of anything discernible. As with my many other life problems, i feel like i'm adrift at sea, treading water, and while i can see land and am trying trying trying to get there, everyone who goes past is clinging to driftwood or rowing in a canoe or jetting past in a superyacht and they all try to tell me how to swim to land. And i try but something's weighing me down and making it very hard to do so. That something is a whole lifetime of emotional baggage that has become an enormous Gordian knot that i cannot cleave and cannot untangle either.

So instead I just freak out when i get told that something over which i should be able to exert control and enjoy demonstrable progress and immediate results - "eat less, move more, lose inches around the waistline" - isn't actually nearly so simple and might as well be impossible if you don't have the right genes, which i almost certainly don't.

I'm trying. But jfc sometimes it would just be nice if the thing at which i was trying was easier.

[clairecrive]

hi! I just recently found your account and I've been spending all my time reading everything you've written, and I wanted to tell you that I absolutely adore your writing! it's so beautiful.

I also wanted to request a friends to lovers nikolai x reader fic (you don't have to make it friends to lovers if you don't want to!) something along the lines of this: they get seperated after the battle with the darkling at the end of siege and storm and reader has to go with alina but they finally reunite? and everyone is super smug because they knew it would happen.

sorry for such a long ask and no worries if you decide not to do it! I hope you're doing well!!

Fools, pistols blazing and shock

A/n: a promise is a promise and the second most requested fic was Nikolai and angst and so here it is! friends to lovers is not my favorite trope but I enjoyed writing this. I hope you will too x

Thank you so much for your beautiful words btw, they mean the world <3<3

tags: @jupiterandbutterflies , @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @subjecta13-thefangirl ,@gallysonegoodlung , @a-c-lee , @mriddlemethis , @carnationworld , @thanossexual , @luvxginger , @sanna2020 , @partiesandblurrypolaroids , @edithsvoice , @wafflesandschemingfaces , @snugleo , @sugarmelonwater , @dobwhore, @sassybadqueen , @anything-forourmoony, @snokoi, @imaginingimagines, @vintagebitc_,

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

"So," he twirled around, "how do I look?" With a theatrical gesture, he stopped in front of you.

You looked at him, head to toe, before saying, "Like a fool I know."

He was imperturbable, by the smirk on his face one would think that you had paid him a compliment. "The answer was far simpler: handsome."

"You look like a prince," you conceded, " but so does your brother so take that as you will." And with that, you walked to your assigned post leaving a scandalized Nikolai behind.

The dinner went by smoothly even if you had to bear Vasily being his annoying self. So far so good. The important thing was that the people around the table were under no threat. The rest was bearable.

And no, it had nothing to do with Nikolai winking at you from time to time. Flirting was second nature to him and Alina's presence by his side was a cold reminder of how things were.

It took one look at her for your face to go as blank as Mal's on the other side of the room.

You had disconnected from the conversation at the table for a second, your attention going to the exit where a Grisha soldier had just walked in to talk to Zoya. If you had been paying attention to Nikolai, you would have known what to expect.

But you hadn't and so the next few seconds were pure chaos.

The unthinkable happened.

Black shadows filled the room, leaving no chance to the people they had appeared before. The Queen's scream brought your attention back to the table and consequently to the Vasily. Or rather, to what was left of him.

Beside him, the kind had crouched down to hide and was cowering behind the throne. The Queen clutched her son's body to her chest wailing and screaming. Then your eyes fell on him, standing tall in front of his parents shooting away.

You didn't know what you were going to do. You didn't think. You just acted and the next thing you knew, you were running towards him shooting fire at whatever tendrils of shadows you could see.

"Nikolai!"

In a moment, you reached his side, covering his back for every possible attack.

"You need to go," you urged him over the sounds of crying and shooting. A shot of light filled the room blinking you for a moment and panic shot through you at the possibility of Alina being hurt.

"Take your parents and Alina and go Nikolai. You can't stay here!" You insisted again, still back to back, unwilling to let anything happen to him. If he meant to argue you didn't know. You heard him speak but his words went unheard over the chaos in the room.

You turned around just in time to see one of those things trying to make their way to him. The tendrils of fire that shot through you slowed it down but it was only a shot of wind coming from a squaller that did the trick and sent it away.

Nodding in the squaller's direction you took Nikolai's shoulders and turned him towards the secret exit behind the throne.

"Stop playing hero and just go for Saint's sake!" Under normal circumstances, he was stronger than you. And well, he still was but too busy worrying about getting his family to safety and covering your back, he ended up succumbing to your shoves.

"I can't leave you here!"

"You can and you surely will! I'll make sure that Alina is safe," ushering him and his parents towards the exit, you didn't give him time to argue. Once they were through the door, you closed it behind them and melted the lock.

You allowed yourself only a moment to worry about him, to mourn him if things were to go downhill for you. Only a second for you to mourn the future that you knew you were never going to get with him.

Then it was over. Your heart locked away and your mind focused solely on the battle ahead. You needed to make sure that Alina was alive and get her to safety whilst also trying to save as many as you could along the way.

A piece of cake.

*+*+*+*+*+*

You knew that he had made it out of Os Alta alive. You had gotten word that he had arrived safe and sound to one of his hiding spots scattered around the country.

Alina and a group of other Grisha, including yourself, had managed to make it out alive out of the capital as well.

All was as well as it could be under these gloomy circumstances. And yet, you couldn't help but feel like you had lost.

Too many had fallen under the Darkling's wrath. Too many had given up their lives in honor of Ravka's freedom. Too many sacrifices for you all to be hiding in the tunnels like scared cats.

But you had a plan. You just needed to be in the same room as Alina, all of you at once, and you were going to make your way up.

It was only a matter of time before you were going to see him again.

*+*+*+*+*+*

It turned out that you were right. It was a matter of time indeed before you saw Nikolai again.

As always, he couldn't help but make a grand entrance while praising his good looks. For once, your eyes didn't roll in mock annoyance. The joy of seeing him again, safe and sound while also saving your asses, prevailed.

And the moment his eyes met yours? Priceless.

Despite being in the middle of running away and fighting the first army's soldiers, you felt like there was only the two of you. Nothing mattered besides Nikolai, his stupid smirk that shone brighter than all the stars combined.

It turned out that that moment came with a price indeed. Your distraction paved the way for an almost fatal mistake.

Too lost in Nikolai's eyes and restraining yourself from throwing yourself at him, you didn't notice the soldier sneaking up behind him. Or well, you didn't until it was too late.

The movement caught your eyes, but the bastard had his pistol already drawn. You had the presence of the spirit of pushing Nikolai out of the way before a shot was fired.

Focusing on the bullet you tried all your might to melt it, but you knew it was a desperate attempt since you had noticed it too late. Trying and losing was better than not trying at all so trying you did.

However, what turned out to be life-saving was Nikolai's counterattack. While you exercised the small science, Nikolai quickly drew his own pistol and shoot at the soldier.

Time seemed to slow down as you stared in front of him, hands in the air while Nikolai moved behind you. Right before your brain registered that while you had indeed managed to burn the bullet, it was still coming your way at high speed, another object entered your field vision.

At that moment you didn't exactly decipher what had happened, you blinked and the bullet was not there anymore. However, your stupor was short-lived as other soldiers were coming your way after hearing the noise.

At that point, Nikolai tugged you away and towards his awaiting ship knowing that the soldiers would surely outnumber you.

It all happened in a blink. One moment you were on the ground hellbent on not dying, and the other you were up in the air.

That, combined with the stress of the last couple of weeks. exhaustion and dehydration put you in a state of shock. Resulting in you staring numbly ahead of you.

Then, when you felt a hand on your face, your brain started working again and your eyes slowly began to focus.

"Are you injured?"

Nikolai was moving your head left and right to check for wounds and after that, he moved down on your neck and vital points. But you weren't hurt.

"It's so typically you to swoop in and save the day in the most dramatic way possible that I shouldn't even be surprised."

Your sarcasm reassured him that you were fine more than the absence of physical wounds. Leaning back on his haunches, he gave you a lazy smirk. "You know me, always read to save damsels in distress."

You almost hated how handsome he looked in that moment but the fact that he basically had saved your life made it really hard for you to get mad at him.

"Not a damsel and not in distress but I appreciated your gesture," you fired back falling naturally into your usual easy banter. "Thank you, Kolya."

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I did it for a whole selfish reason." His features morphed into seriousness which was usually something he left for meetings or that kind of stuff. Seeing it now directed at you, seriously worried you.

"Since when does Nikolai Lanstov shy away from gratefulness and compliments?" You tried to jest but to no avail.

"I'm serious."

"Alright, so why did you do it? You have tons of other Grisha available."

"Because a world without you is not a world I want to live in."

Well, damn. Trust Nikolai to make you completely speechless.

"That must be the shock talking," you murmured still taken back by his words.

"I've almost lost you, y/n, I'm not going to waste any more time avoiding my feelings." Crossing his arms on his chest, Nikolai lightly shook his head. Damn, there was no smirk on his face, no twinkle in his eyes. He must be serious.

"I should be having an epiphany moment since I was the one who almost died," you protested.

"Feel free to declare your undying love for me then."

"Ass. Now I'm tempted not to do it just to prove you wrong," you glared at him but sighed knowing what you needed to do. "But, as much as it pains me, you're right."

Your eyes flickered between yours and the sheer intensity of them gave you enough confidence to bear your heart to him, "I do love you, you know."

"Well, let's be honest, who wouldn't. I'm amazing," with a careless shrug, Nikolai gestured to himself. Which, of course, made you glare at him.

"Joking, I take it back. You're insufferable." Your mock-annoyance did nothing but amuse him to no end. However untruthful they might be, Nikolai played along with your words. While also progressively leaning closer to you.

"Nope, can't do that love. You signed your destiny, you're mine." You would have retired, of course you would have, but the truth is, his lips were more interesting than any witty comeback ever could.

[orangefoxes]

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

[super-unpredictable98]

Exposure Therapy (The Road Within AU)

Chapter 2: Not So Normal

Warning: Strong language, depiction of mental illness (including tics), mention of death and disordered eating.

(Exposure Therapy Masterlist)

"FUCKING CUNT WHORE!" Vincent's shout made me go from half asleep to very much awake.

"Good morning to you too," I joked as I came down the stairs.

"Hey, Ramona," he twitched violently spluttered while drinking some juice. By now I was so used to the twitching and the spasms that I barely noticed them at all.

The last couple of days I've been trying to gather the courage to ask him to use my nickname. My full name reminds me of my mom, but I didn't wanna seem nasty.

"You can call me Mona, I'm not a huge fan of my name."

"Alright, Mona, are you hungry?"

"Not really, this fucking medication," I nearly gagged just thinking about it. "It makes me feel sick all day, plus my antidepressant has tiny little spheres inside the capsule and every time I swallow I hear this horrible rattling noise in my throat that just makes me... Argh! I'll eat at dinner."

"Dinner?" Vince furrowed his brows as he pushed his chin up with the heel of his hand.

"Apparently this OCD pill is also a good appetite suppressant. I gained some weight after... Some stuff happened back home."

"Oh, no, that can't be good, you should talk to Dr. Rose about it... Not eating isn't good for you, believe me," his expression darkened completely. I'm not usually the best at reading people's faces, but even I saw that change.

"I will, I'm just trying to gather the nerve to talk on the phone."

"You don't talk on the phone?"

"Not really, when I used to sing I could use the excuse that I couldn't strain my voice, but now I just have to admit it's because of my anxiety."

"I could help you if you want, I could call and then you explain to her," he shut his eyes abruptly. "Fuck off, weird cunt- I'm sorry..."

I knew he didn't mean it, but part of me started to think that maybe that's how he felt. Everyone else certainly did.

He was very nice, but he probably thought I was crazy and who could blame him? I did just say that the rattling of my medication in my throat makes me lose my mind.

"Where's Alex?" I tried to push those thoughts away.

"He went grocery shopping, he doesn't trust me to do it. He likes to check the expiration date himself and make sure every container is in pristine condition."

"I understand his worries, I need to check the date at least twice before eating, but you seem pretty trustworthy."

"Thanks," Vince chuckled. "Are you sure you don't wanna eat anything? Do you like eggs?"

"Only scrambled, I tolerate cheese or onions, never both."

"I guess it's your lucky day," he lowered his eyes to the half-eaten scrambled eggs with cheese on the plate. "I don't mind sharing."

I tried to fight a grin as Vincent handed me his fork. Usually I don't do this, I don't eat with someone else's fork or drink from someone else's cup. This sounds absolutely disgusting and it would send me into a terrible anxiety attack, but not this time.

It felt like an act of intimacy when I took a bite, that piece of metal had touched his lips, his beautiful, plump... NO! Why do I do this to myself?

Fuck, I hate being the way I am, someone gives me the slightest bit of attention and I'm already head over heels! But it did feel pretty good to use his fork, maybe I should face that as a behavioral exercise instead, I'm confronting my germophobia.

"Did you like it?" Vincent asked before making a pop noise with his palm against his mouth.

I simply hummed in response, not realizing that the fork was still in my mouth, resting on my tongue. He nodded in encouragement with a smile.

"Do you want some more?"

"Oh!" I pulled the fork out. "Yeah, I guess..."

I took another bite and tried to fight that nausea the medication was causing, that moment was too good to be ruined. Even if it was only happening in my head.

"Great, just a little bit more, baby steps."

——————————————————

"Or even worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes, and make me laugh, come out of hiding. What do I do with that? Oh, God, what if when he sees me I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can't close it? What happens then? If when he holds me, my heart is set in motion-"

"That is so pretty," Vincent stood by the door as I played the ukelele.

"Oh, shit!" I almost had a heart attack when I realized he's been listening. "Thanks."

"Sorry, I didn't wanna scare you, I just finished my online school stuff and I heard you singing..."

"It's alright," I shook my head, avoiding looking into his eyes.

"What's the name of that FUCK song?"

"It's When He Sees Me, from Waitress."

"Can you continue?"

Very hesitantly I got my ukelele back in position and restarted from where I stopped. I was beyond embarrassed, but I didn't want him to think I stopped because of him or because I was singing about him, or because I don't know the rest.

"If when he holds me, my heart is set in motion. I'm not prepared for that, I'm scared of breaking open, but still I can't help from hoping to find someone to talk to... Who likes the way I am. Someone who when he sees me, wants to again."

"That was beautiful, Mona," I couldn't tell if he was being honest or if he was mocking me.

"Thank you," I chose to believe he was being honest, even though if he wasn't I would end up looking stupid.

"I wanted to ask..." he started ticking more violently. "Would you wanna- cunt, go to the beach with me?"

My eyes probably grew wide trying to process the question. Vincent was traditionally attractive, yeah, he was probably insecure about his tics, but he could get any girl he wanted, why would he be asking me?

UNLESS... He was asking me as a friend and I'm being stupid again. Damn it, I had to answer quickly before he realizes I thought it was a date, before he gives up, before he thinks I hate him!

"Yes," I nearly whispered.

"C-cool, why don't you get ready and meet me downstairs?"

"Sure," I grimaced, already regretting accepting the invitation.

I'm pale as can be, so the sun would probably burn me. I can't swim, so that would be awkward. Beaches are disgusting, all that sand sticking to my skin... Not to mention how the sea is filthy and basically filled with disease.

Of course there was also the issue of the swimsuit... My mom had bought me a couple of new ones, since the old ones don't fit anymore. They were all one-piece, all black, one with little stars and moons and the other with small aliens. She said Black is slimming.

I grabbed a beach dress, a towel, and my sunscreen. It was almost five, so the sun was not that dangerous anymore, but I would probably need to reapply anyway. So I went downstairs and Vince was anxiously waiting by the door.

"Are you ready?" he smiled.

"Where are you two going?" Alex came in holding two huge bags of groceries.

"To the beach," I muttered.

"Oh," he seemed surprised? Admired? Upset? I wasn't sure. "Have fun then."

——————————————————

"Is this spot good for you?" Vincent asked.

"Yeah, it's fine."

It wasn't fine, it was a bit too close to the water and if we stayed long enough the tide would get to us and I would have an anxiety attack, but I wasn't gonna tell him that. The whole point of this exposure therapy was to make me uncomfortable, so I could get comfortable in the future, right?

I sat down on the blanket he brought, he quickly joined me while a particularly bad string of tics took over him.

"CUNT CUNT FUCK!" Some people around us were staring, but I didn't really mind.

"Looks like these assholes have never seen a person with Tourette's before."

"They probably haven't," he laughed. "It's not that common."

"Well, fuck them for staring," I felt truly bad that this is what he has to go through every time he goes out in public.

"Yeah, but you have anxiety and I just..."

"I don't care about that, I used to do theater, I'm used to being watched."

"Used to? Why don't you do it anymore?" he was finally starting to calm down.

"My grandpa died, he was an actor. He was the only father figure I ever had. Now that he's gone it doesn't feel right being on stage anymore and I ended up getting fat anyway, so it doesn't really matter."

"Ha, landwhale," he squealed. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I tugged at the sleeves of my dress to cover my arms a bit more and folded them in front of my stomach. It was just a tic, but somehow that one really hurt.

"That wasn't a tic!" he shouted and covered his mouth immediately, mortified. "Yes it was, it was a tic!"

"Did you just tic saying that wasn't a tic?"

"Yeah, that's a dangerous one... I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry, Vincent."

"No, I really am, I-"

"You didn't mean it," I covered my eyes before any tears could come out, I didn't want to make him feel bad about it.

"Yeah," he frowned. "I get how you feel, you know? My mom died a couple of years ago, she was my best friend. It sucks, I know, but don't you think your grandpa would be proud of seeing you carrying his legacy or something?"

"Maybe," I cursed the second I said yes to that stupid beach date. "But I need to find the strength to step on stage without crying first."

"You know, I really am sorry about what I said."

"Why are you still talking about it?"

"I can see you got upset," I looked at him, his curls danced in the wind, covering his eyes a little bit, he looked more beautiful than ever.

"Nah, I'm fine," I looked the other way once again.

"Hey," Vince brought my gaze back to him with his hand on my cheek. "I didn't mean it."

"I know, trust me, I know..."

"You're beautiful, Mona! Don't ever think that you need to be a certain size to look good, that is a deadly path."

"You're saying that because you're worried I'll go down the same road as Marie?"

"Well, it's really painful to watch someone you like going through that..."

"Do you still like her?"

"FUCKING BITCH," he screamed and whistled right after. "As a friend, but just that."

"I'm sorry for asking, I probably shouldn't."

"It's fine," he stared into the horizon. "She needs someone who can take care of her, I can't do that. I can take care of a girl like a normal boyfriend would, but I can't have the responsibility of her entire life on my back. She is a nice person, but can be very toxic sometimes, it's like she doesn't want people to love her."

"Why did you say yes to Dr. Rose if you don't wanna care for people?" I don't think I've ever felt so inadequate in my entire life. If that was a date, that was probably the worst first date in history... But it wasn't.

"You don't need to be taken care of, you just need someone who listens to you and is willing to understand the way you feel."

"But earlier-"

"Earlier you were having a hard time, but when I handed you the fork, you didn't fight it. I didn't have to insist for you to eat or else you might die. I know you think you're an inconvenience to us, but you're not," contradicting his words, he flipped me off, but I just laughed.

"I just have this constant feeling that even though people might like me, they would like me more if I was different, neurotypical."

"Do you like me?"

"Yeah," I admitted before my brain could stop me.

"Would you like me more if I didn't tic?" he raised his eyebrows.

"No, of course not," I scoffed, what sort of question was that?

"There's your answer," he shrugged. "Do you wanna go for a swim?"

"I can't swim."

"That's fine, we'll stay in the shallow, and if you're scared I'll hold your hand. If anything happens, I'll pull you back."

"Don't you think the sea is a little too dirty?" I chuckled.

"I don't know, but what I do know is that ever since I moved here I've been in there hundreds of times and nothing bad ever happened. You can always shower when you get home," Vincent ripped his shirt off and offered me his hand. "Wanna give it a try?"

I didn't wanna go in, I didn't wanna take my dress off, but I did wanna hold his hand and he did look very nice with his shirt off.

Sometimes, there are these wonderful moments in which your desire to do something is stronger than your fear. Like that one time when someone got sick at the stage door of the Winter Garden Theater, but I really wanted an autograph from Leslie Kritzner on my Playbill.

Those are the moments when you realize your real strength, when you finally realize you can and you will take that opportunity to be happy. I timidly shed my dress and took his hand. The surprised (or was it admired?) look he gave me was probably the best part, I don't think he expected it to work.

"If anything happens to me, I'll haunt you forever," I joked.

"You have my permission, but I think the worst that can happen is you having a great time."

I honestly couldn't believe that was my life. I was actually running towards the sea under the beautiful pink-orange sunset in California, holding hands with this cute guy (given he didn't like me that way, it's still nice to dream), and I didn't even need Lexotan for this one.

As soon as my feet touched the water, I thought I was gonna gag, but I felt great.

"See? Alive and well," Vincent smacked his own chest a few times. "How do you feel?"

"Alive and well!" I shouted.

"Isn't it amazing?"

"Yes!"

Every time the waves hit my legs, I felt like I was gonna fall, but I never did. Most of the things in my life were like this, a little voice in my head always telling me what would go wrong, but none of those things ever actually happened. It was just a voice, no face, no power, no nothing.

My fantasy was broken, though, when I tripped over an unexpected bump in the sand. Hearing my desperate yelp, Vincent placed his other hand on my back to stabilize me, holding me firmly.

We stared at each other for a little while, my heart was about to jump out my mouth and I had to look away, but just as my eyes found something else to stare at, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @spanishmossmagnolia @a-ghoulish-tale @seanfalco @badsext

[starlightxsvt]

Hellion

pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, idk what this is

warnings: cursing

word count: around 1.5k

A/N: Firstly, happy birthday to the Jeonghan, our con man. I know I'm a day late so forgive me for that. Secondly, I've no idea what the hell I wrote. I've cancelled two other drafts I wrote for his birthday cause none of them were coming together and in the end I've decided to post this shit. Anyway, your feedback would be really appreciated in this mess of a story :').

"What's Jeonghan doing here?" You hiss to Mingyu who has a hard time prying his eyes off of Chaeyeon. "I invited him. I never thought he'd actually come. I'm surprised too." He replies.

"Wha- why would you invite Jeonghan to my birthday party!" You glare at him to which he rolls his eyes, "Come on now, he's in our friend group. And college is almost over. You don't know when you'll see him again. Ogle him while he's still here." He smirks.

"What did you just s-"

"Oh come on, don't act like I don't know that he's your secret crush. Maybe make up with him and if you're lucky you'll get some good dick as a birthday present." Mingyu chuckles at your open mouth before scurrying away to avoid your wrath. You glare at his retreating figure before inhaling sharply. And before you can stop yourself, you start to look for him.

You spot Jeonghan at the large porch in the back of Mingyu's house, sitting in one of the porch seats while sipping beer. He looks dashing as always, his black hair messy, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his cheekbones getting a prominent shine. You sigh.

Jeonghan was an exhausting person to be around and maybe, he'd say the same for you. You've known him since highschool and after a particular incident of him spilling his banana milk all over your brand new scarf, you decided to call it war. To this day you believe that he did it on purpose because you told your homeroom teacher that he slept during his class.

After that it was like an unspoken rule- you two would bicker whenever you were in the same space. It only infuriated you that he was so good looking, smart, famous and the fact that you had some feelings developing for him. Each time you saw him with a girl you'd feel a bitter feeling all over and you could only hope that those feelings would pass over time. But no they didn't, they only grew- the small branches had formed a tree now, the roots planted deep in your heart.

"How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?" Jeonghan calls, without turning behind. You clear your throat before walking to him, "Didn't expect to see you here, fuck face."

"Can you not call me names for a day please? You're just jealous I'm good looking." He remarks drowning the can of beer.

You snort, "Haha. You wish, loser." You plop down beside him. "I see you've finished quite a few cans. What's up? Got ditched?" You poke him.

"What do you care?"

"You're ruining the mood here with all these sad aura around you. Go drink your sorrows away somewhere else, this is my party."

"Yet you are sitting with me and my sad auras."

"I came to tell you that," you scoff, crossing your arms over.

"Parties are not your thing, I know. And Mingyu wasn't shy on inviting people. It feels more like his birthday than yours." Jeonghan comments, still staring ahead. His words are true and they infuriate you. You can't help but get defensive, "What do you know, sad boy? I'm enjoying myself just fine."

"And yet you are sitting with me and-"

"Stop saying that, will you!" You snap. Jeonghan chuckles before looking at you. He unabashedly eyes you up and down, heating your cheeks up in the process.

"Nice dress," he murmurs. His words catch you off guard and you glare at him, "Stop staring at me, pervert."

"You were staring at me earlier."

"Seriously? Can you stop for one goddamn second?"

"You're the one who started it."

"That's it. I shouldn't have come here," you stand up to leave but to your utter surprise Jeonghan grabs your hand, sending your heart to a frenzy. "Wait."

You swallow nervously, heart thudding loudly in your chest as Jeonghan lets go of your hand and meets your eyes, "Sit down, I've a gift for you."

You frown, "You have a gift for me?" Jeonghan nods before sitting straight, setting down his can. "Before that, I need you to know something."

"W-what?"

"I really didn't spill my milk all over you intentionally that day." He meets your eyes.

You can't help but laugh out loud partially because he's still concerned about that and partially because you believe he's lying.

"Listen here, sad boy, I've put that well past me. And I know for a fact you did it on purpose so don't-"

"You didn't, ___. We've been fighting over that for our whole goddamn lives. And no, I'm not lying. I've no reason to. I never cared if you told our teacher shit or not." His chocolate orbs bore into yours and you swallow. The air surrounding you suddenly becomes thick and you start to feel jittery and maybe a slight amount of guilt. Is he really speaking the truth?

"W-whatever, I don't care anymore." You say, sitting down gently beside him.

"And yet you still hold a grudge against me," Jeonghan sighs. "Besides you're not even fun to fight with."

"What did you say?"

He laughs, his eyes forming crescents and the sweet melody echoing in the air. You quickly look away before he catches you staring, "I don't have all day. Where's my gift?"

"Yeah, right." From beside him he produces a bag that you didn't notice before. He hands it to you and you tentatively peek in, half expecting a bug to jump out.

To your utter surprise, a scarf that looks identical to the one he ruined lies there. A small gasp leaves your mouth.

"I bought it that day after I stained yours. I was going to give this to you as an apology but dear lord, you were on my ass the second I got to class next day." Jeonghan speaks and a blush coats your cheek leaving you feel vulnerable all of a sudden.

"I don't know what to say," You whisper more to yourself. Jeonghan chuckles, "I know, you're touched. It's okay, we're even finally."

You bite your lip and exhale loudly before meeting his eyes, "Thanks." Jeonghan moves his hand in a dismissive wave. "I thought I'd finally give it you, call it a truce. We'll probably never see each other again after this month and I wanted to depart on good terms."

Your throat constricts, an overwhelming sadness enveloping you. He's right, you two would probably never see each other again. His dad owns a huge business and he'd probably go abroad to manage it.

"You're right, let's call it a truce," you whisper staring at the scarf in your lap.

"Come on now, don't look so sad, sad girl," Jeonghan teases you and you roll your eyes. He's still the same.

He hands you a beer, "Have a drink with me to sign the truce." You quietly laugh, taking the can from him. You two share a comfortable silence, staring at the night sky, the music from the party fading into the background until Jeonghan decides to break it.

"I know you like me, ___." The words slip past his lips like it's the most casual thing ever. You choke on your beer before looking at him eyes wide like saucers, "W-what!"

Jeonghan slightly turns to face you, his features calm, "You don't have to act. I've known all along."

Oh. My. God.

Heat spreads all over your face like wildfire. Your first thought is that Mingyu told him. You chew your lip as you see no way out. "W-who told you?" You squeak.

"I've figured it out myself," He says nonchalantly, resting his head on his hand as you stares at you.

"You-you did?"

"Mhmm."

You fumble with the hem of your dress before murmuring out, "I-I should get going." You need to escape him. Forever.

But Jeonghan isn't done. He casually goes on, "I've always thought you were pretty. Even when you get red after losing an argument." You blush furiously as your palms sweat.

"You know I really had no intention of picking a fight with you but you...you were so desperate to bring me down. You always speak too much and I often think about the many ways I could shut your loud mouth. Such a shame, we would've made a great couple."

Your face feels like it's on fire by now. You swallow before nervously laughing, "I s-see what you're doing here...You're trying to p-prank me, asshole."

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, sighing, "See? There you go again, running that damn mouth." Your lips press together as you clench your fists, thinking of a way out. In the blink of an eye Jeonghan scoots closer to you and leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

A squeak leaves your mouth as Jeonghan tilts your head, cupping your cheek. You want to pull back, smack him, call him names but you can only moan as his mouth slots against yours perfectly. Your tongues clash as you grab a fistful of Jeonghan's shirt, moaning.

When you pull back for air, you're mortified, wanting to be swallowed up by the ground. Jeonghan is totally calm as he takes in your messy state licking his lips.

"Do you want to continue?"

"W-wh-what?"

"I said do you want to continue this? If you don't want to I'll leave. If you do then you're coming home with me. Which one is it gonna be, ___?"

You bite your lip. Oh my God. This can't be happening.

You grit your teeth as every ounce of your resolve disappears, "I...I want you."

The smile on Jeonghan's face is victorious, a smile you've seen million times before, a smile that makes you week in the knees. "Good girl." He says encasing your lips in another kiss before standing up holding out his hand. "Come along, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you for any other man. Even when it's morning you'll only be thinking about me," he whispers in your ear before tugging you out of the porch- your heart hammering in your chest as you squeeze the scarf on your hand.

Fuck, you owe Mingyu a fruit basket or some shit now.

A/N 2: Also, that video of Jeonghan exercising made me 🥵🥵 this man is so infurating. I was literally dehydrated from watching that video.

[janekfan]

I'm a little hesitant about this prompt, because it might need a longer story to fill it, but based on reading your fics it may be to your taste for h/c? I've seen a few Geraskier stories where Geralt is cursed to lose his sight and hearing, but I'd be interested to read one where it's Jaskier who's cursed instead. You seem to like exploring growth in stories, and I could see Geralt having to step outside his comfort zone, learning to help and support Jask while they try to break the curse.

I was inspired by this prompt because in my youth, when families go to water parks and things, my mother insisted on holding my glasses so I wouldn't lose them, not realizing I cannot see hardly ANYTHING without them, just colors. She left me like half a dozen times in a throng of people and it was scary. And even though I kept telling her I couldn't SEE HER, she wouldn't listen. I felt scared and stupid because I couldn't keep track of my family.

So I hope you enjoy :D

Thank you for the prompt! @obscurebookwyrm

Sankofa

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965268/chapters/63119659

“Geralt.”

“Hm.”

“I. What do you want me to say?” Jaskier’s grip on his lute tightened and he had to forcibly relax himself so as not to snap it in twain. “That you should have gotten hit with it instead? That you should be the one waiting for the effects of a curse to take hold so that I? The mighty bard can be the one to protect us both?”

“Hm.”

“Need I remind you that had you not pissed her off, we wouldn’t even be here?”

“Hm.”

“Fine. Leave me at the next village and I’ll just succumb to whatever this ends up being while you continue witchering or whatever.”

“Hm.” Roach picked up her pace and he could hear Jaskier curse Geralt’s stubbornness as he loped after them.

Geralt was angry. Angrier than usual with the musician and definitely not impressed with his self sacrifice because now, if anything, he would be an even bigger liability. It was bad enough he fumbled along behind him, constantly jabbering, writing the most ridiculous songs. But now, Geralt had to wait and see what would become of him now that he’d been hit with some unnamed affliction. Geralt refused to admit that Jaskier was right. That it was better that the stronger of them was curse free and able to continue on unimpaired.

But he was now an even larger inconvenience and Geralt hadn’t thought that was possible.

And yet.

As brave a face as he was putting on, he could smell the sour scent of anxiousness as Jaskier filled up the silence with more talk about inane things, stray lyrics, random observations, all because he was nervous.

Nothing happened yet. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

“Geralt.” Even and steady, Jaskier’s voice hovered somewhere to the left of him. There was something strange about the quality of it and it immediately set Geralt on edge.

“What?” He couldn’t help the exasperation, it had been a long few days, and he felt Jaskier tense beside him on his bed roll.

“There.” He paused and Geralt knew if he turned to look at him he’d be worrying his lip between his teeth.

“What?” They were late as it is, the sun three fingers above the horizon already.

“There are no stars.” His whispering was shaky and trembling. Fear. It was flooding Geralt’s sensitive nose. What was this lunatic on about? Of course there weren’t any stars.

“It’s late morning. Of course there aren’t.” He rolled his eyes and began packing up camp. They’d eat on the move to make up for lost time. He nudged Jaskier with the toe of his boot. “Get up. You’re wasting daylight.”

“Daylight.” His hand was hovering over his face and he kicked him a little harder.

“Yes. Daylight. Move or stay here, but I’m leaving.” Instead of following his directions, Jaskier swallowed a few times, blinking hard and staring at his palm in between. “Jaskier.” Growling, grabbing the collar of his chemise and slinging him to his feet himself, confused when his arms shot out for balance and he nearly fell. “What are you--are you drunk?” No. He’d smell it. But it was all becoming a little too clear and Geralt didn’t want to be the one to say it aloud.

“No.” A weak exhale, a disbelieving laugh. “I’m. I’m blind.”

Blind.

The curse.

“Are you sure?” Geralt was a hair's breadth away from his face, examining his eyes, blank and vacant and staring off into the distance despite their proximity. There was nothing wrong that he could tell. Still the same cornflower blue he was so familiar with.

“I think I’d know.” He scoffed.

“Then we’d better get moving.” Geralt couldn’t help it, the thread of anger twisting around his words just happened. All Jaskier seemed to do was slow him down and get in the way. “Find a way to break this thing.” It took the bard three times longer to pack his belongings and Geralt became more impatient every time he dropped something or stubbed his toe or lost his balance. He knew it wasn’t fair. But this was all the bard’s fault in the first place and he’d have to deal with the consequences.

Jaskier played his lute even more and was even slower, not yet sure on his feet without the advantage of sight. Geralt saw that he kept his ear canted towards Roach’s hooves crunching on the stones, using her as a guide and he wondered if maybe Jaskier should be riding her instead. The music he was picking out on his strings was simpler and felt more like practice than anything new and he realized that he was comforting himself with easy exercises and wondered how long he’d insist on doing it.

All day, it turned out, and Geralt was just about on his last nerve, turning his irritability into action by setting up camp and batting Jaskier out of his way, finally just sitting him in the dirt. He stoked up the fire, tossed down Jaskier’s bedroll and stalked off to find dinner and clear his head before he started yelling.

When he returned with a brace of rabbits, Jaskier was gone and Geralt swallowed down the spike of panic in his throat, dropping his catch and looking for signs of a struggle and instead finding odd marks that looked like Jaskier had crawled across the ground. And he found him, cowering amid Roach’s legs, a dangerous spot for probably anyone else, but she was as calm as ever, letting him stroke the length of her forelimb. There were drying tear tracks on his face.

“G’Geralt?” His voice was small and wavering, barely above his shaking breath.

“Who else would it be?”

“I didn’t know where you’d gone.” He didn’t leave the horse. “I, I called out. But. And then. There’s a lot of noises in the woods at night.” This laugh was self deprecating, as though he knew how ridiculous he was being, like a child hiding from shadows.

But his whole world was in shadow.

“You’ve camped before. It’s foolish to be afraid.”

“Y’yeah. Of course it is.” He extricated himself from his position beneath Roach, petting her neck, and Geralt let it be. “Thank you for your protection, good lady.” She lipped the collar of his doublet and he rested his cheek on her velvet nose for just a moment before stumbling back to his bedroll.

“Here.” Jaskier looked confused. “The rabbit. Dinner?”

“Oh, uh.” He reached out, drawing his hand quickly back when he burned the tips of his fingers and slipping them into his mouth for a second. “Ha, it’s hot.” Geralt yanked his wrist and pressed the stick he’d roasted the meat on against his palm and watched Jaskier’s fingers wrap around it reflexively.

“Just eat. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

They didn’t. Not the next day, nor the day after that, but Jaskier was trying to adjust more and more each day despite how he seemed to be withdrawing. It was easy to forget he was blind and Geralt was easily frustrated by his sense of direction, or rather the awful lack of it. More than once, he’d misjudged the path and toppled into the bushes. Twice, Geralt had come back from a hunt to find him trapped in the corner of their rented room. He’d gotten turned around and hadn’t been able to figure out how he was boxed in by the bed, the small table, a chair. Jaskier laughed it off.

He’d been upset each time.

At the market the next day, Geralt told him off handedly that he was heading to the blacksmith, and to catch up when he was ready, because usually he wanted to dither about at the stalls looking at some trinket or another. When he’d finally realized, tapping his foot and waiting for a blind man who didn’t know his way around this village to somehow find him, he followed his scent, laced with terror, to an alley where he’d pressed himself up tight to the wall, protecting his back. They didn’t speak, Geralt just grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the room. Told him to stay there if he couldn’t figure out how to find his way around.

The hurt on his face cut like a blade.

“Get down and stay down.” Geralt shoved Jaskier’s face into the dirt, both of them narrowly avoiding decapitation when the beast attacked out of nowhere. Caught flat footed, Geralt found himself pinned to the ground, struggling under the weight of it and hooking his thumbs in the corners of its maw to keep the teeth from closing around his head. Fetid breath came closer and closer and he thought for a moment this might be it when the resounding crack of a tree limb colliding with the side of its skull stunned it enough for Geralt to kick it off him. He used the momentum to roll and draw his steel sword, cutting off its head with a wet and sickening squelch.

“Geralt?” Jaskier, covered in black ichor and mud, stood swaying in the road, clinging to a length of splintered wood, blind eyes wide with shock. And then, panting with horror, Jaskier fainted dead away.

He’d lost him again.

“Fuck.” Geralt didn’t know where or how long ago and began retracing his steps, scenting the air and picking up the faintest traces of the oils he’d used last night in the bath. It was tainted by the smell of fear, acrid and sharp, and he ran.

Saw Jaskier pinned up against a wall by a larger man than he, a broad, ugly hand clasped over his mouth and a knee between his thighs. He was struggling to breathe, high pitched whimpering slipped from behind his attacker’s palm and he grabbed a fistful of hair to slam the back of Jaskier’s head into the wall behind him.

The brute didn’t notice the knife slipped between his ribs until it was too late. He’d die in this place and Geralt wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

“Who--” He sobbed, choked. “Geralt?” Tears cascaded down his cheeks, slipped off his chin.

“Who was that?” Why couldn’t he be kind to Jaskier when he needed it most? Why did he let his own fear of the situation manifest as blame?

“He’d. Solicited me in the tavern and I told him no.” He shuddered. “I thought he might be following but.” He swallowed with a wet click. “You were walking so fast, I lost the sound of your steps.” Drawing a sharp intake of breath he swept a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm himself down. Geralt could hear his heartbeat hammering madly away behind his breastbone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jaskier flinched at his volume, hugging himself around his middle and casting his face to the ground, and if Geralt was a stronger man he would tell his bard that this was not his fault. That he was scared of what he almost let happen.

“I. You were angry.”

“What?” With the heel of his hand, Jaskier scrubbed at his face. His bruised face, the imprints from where he was held darkening around his mouth and neck.

“You said I needed to figure this out and. I.” Had been snatched off the street by a predator and very nearly badly hurt. “I forgot my dagger back at the inn.” He took a deep breath, and then another. “I’m sorry, that was. That was stupid.”

“Hm.” It wasn’t. He should have been safe with Geralt in broad daylight. This time he took his hand, laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Let’s go.”

Exhausted from his earlier panic, Jaskier could barely stand when they reached the room, and Geralt helped him the last few steps to the bed, divesting him of doublet and chemise to expose even more bruising. He should have killed the guy slower. Much slower.

“Sorry. I’m sorry you have to do this.” Barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have. This curse.”

“Hush.” Geralt wrung out a cloth in the wash basin, touched it to his face and caught him when he jerked away in fear and surprise. “It’s alright. Just me. I’m going to get you cleaned up, Jaskier.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Muttering, he reached for the flannel.

“I know. Just. Relax, alright?” He swept it up his arm, lingered at the space between his neck and shoulder. “I’ve got you. I’m. Going to do better, Jaskier.”

“What do you mean?” This time, he allowed the touch and Geralt dabbed at a cut on his lip before rinsing and wringing again.

“You’ll ride Roach. In towns, I won’t let you out of my sight.” Jaskier was relaxing, blinking sleepily.

“You can’t babysit me all the time, Geralt.” Though he detected the hope that he wouldn’t have to keep doing this alone beneath his voice.

“No. But I can take care of you until we find a way to break this. Like I should have been doing from the start.” Jaskier’s head was nodding as he fought to stay awake. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Geralt let Jaskier sleep in. The man was dead to the world, bruises stark on his pale skin, and no doubt exhausted from the day before and trying to manage as a newly blind being basically traveling alone. They had to get moving. Maybe Yennefer would understand how to break this curse or at least point them in a direction. But they had to find her first.

“Jaskier.” There was no response, not even a twitch, and Geralt spoke his name louder, and louder still before shaking him awake and dodging his flying fist. “Jaskier!” Nothing but panic in his face and Geralt was tired of seeing that there. He settled his hands over his shoulders, cupped his neck on either side. “Jaskier, what is it? A bad dream?” That wasn’t uncommon after an experience like he’d had.

“Geralt?” His breathing picked up, tears lined his dark lashes. “I.” The witcher snapped his fingers on either side of his head and watched his stricken face stay the same. “Geralt?” This time he drew Jaskier into an embrace, hugging him tightly and allowing him to do the same.

Because he couldn’t hear.

[palimpsessed]

So @captain-aralias​ did one of these and invited other writers to do the same. And I wasn't really going to because it feels a bit late now and also I've done quite a few other year in review posts for 2020. But then I got to thinking that it would be really nice to have one of these for each year to look back on and compare, which convinced me. So, here we go!

If you’re a writer, I’d also encourage you to steal this. Tag me on your post so I can see your thoughts! 🥰

List of Complete Fics for 2020 1. At the Top of a Tower, With You- General, 900 words 2. Use Your Words- Teen, 16k 3. A Man of Letters, or Five Times Baz Retreats and the One Time He Doesn’t- Teen, 54k 4. To the Manor Borne- Teen, 43k

Total: 4 fics, 113k words

Every one of these fics was written for an event, which, realistically, is the only reason they got finished. I have so many ideas I'm working on all at once, and I came into fandom with a focus on making art, so to actually find the motivation to sit down and write/finish/post a fic was entirely deadline based. And it's a technique I'm sure I will also employ in 2021.

Best/Worst Title?

Well, I've mentioned a few times before that I usually have a title before I have much in the way of a fic concept. I don't really dislike any of the my titles, because they all did exactly what I needed them to do, which was help me focus on what I wanted to accomplish in the fic. Comparatively speaking, though, I can answer this.

Best: Use Your Words - succinct, idiomatic, a book quote/motif that also has the potential to be a spell, does what it says on the tin, is probably what all of us are constantly yelling at Baz and Simon to do throughout the books and the fic itself

(Honorable mention to A Man of Letters because that title forms a perfect heart shape when viewed on mobile on AO3. ❤️)

Worst: At the Top of a Tower, With You - this is also a quote and it fits the fic perfectly, but it is a bit of a mouthful and it has a comma in the middle of it, which, while I love commas, feels a bit off-putting in terms of a title - also, it's always kind of bothered me that it's a Baz WS quote used for a CO-era Lucy POV

Best/worst summary?

Again, I don't really dislike any of my summaries.

Best:

To the Manor Borne: The gang decides to spend Christmas together at Pitch Manor. Romance, hijinks, and holiday cheer ensue.

Anything that lets me use the word hijinks is always good! - it's short and sweet - it does a fair job of setting up the premise for the fic and giving highlights, without giving anything away

Worst: A Man of Letters

I'm not going to include this one because it's so long, I had to cut down the version I posted on tumblr to fit in the AO3 field, which is really why I rank it below my others - it effectively sets up the world of Simon and Baz in Regency England prior to where the story starts, but it is prohibitively long - and it's set up, not summary, so it also loses points for not doing what it purports to do - I could have said exactly what this fic was in one sentence: "Simon and Baz meet at several Regency-appropriate venues over the course of a London season and reflect on their acquaintance in letters", but instead I did the full book jacket version because it was more interesting to me.

Best/Worst First Line?

Oh, this is interesting. I can honestly say that I have no idea where this will go. Going to pull up my docs and find out! Okay, since I only have four fics to consider, and I'm feeling split, I'm going to do two for each. I feel good about my words, but I will say that half of my first lines actually provide information, and the other half are incomplete thoughts. Those were stylistic decisions I made, but when taken alone, it does somewhat limit the effectivness of a sentence when it can't stand without the rest of the paragraph. Perhaps that decision will lure readers in for more?

Best:

In the end, we wind up at Pitch Manor. (To the Manor Borne)

I know that you won't be surprised when I tell you that I do not like writing letters. (A Man of Letters)

Kind of interesting that these both contain key words from the titles 🤔

Worst:

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this. (Use Your Words)

I love how the title seems to be answering Baz's question when the two are put together like this 😂

Strange that it should end here, where it all started. (At the Top of a Tower, With You)

The title also seems to complete the first line in this one, too. I'm learning about my writing as this goes on, so that's cool!

Best/Worst Last Line?

Hmm. Okay, again, no idea. Also, a little leery of including last lines for anyone who hasn't read the fics they're from yet. (Tho I guess it's unlikely those people would be reading this😆) But let's see what we've got.

Use Your Words and A Man of Letters have very similar final lines, and both are somewhat spoilery.

Best: The ending of A Man of Letters felt risky to me, in the way that it is formatted and changes tone from the rest of the story. It was something that happened as I wrote it and I loved it. I had no idea if readers would like it, if they would feel like it worked as an ending, but I felt strongly enough about it to let the entire fic hinge on that and I think it really paid off. So, without giving you the actual last line, which is only one word, I'm going to say that one is my best ending.

Worst:

To the Manor Borne: "Carry on, Simon."

It's not bad, it's just not mine.

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, fewer than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I did not set out to write any fics in 2020. I was supposed to be taking a break from writing. I've been an aspiring novelist for half my life now, and have been going through major ups and downs with my writing. I decided I needed to re-evaluate and figure out if writing was something that was even going to be able to make me happy anymore. The answer is: YES! Just…not original fiction. At the moment. I'm happiest when I can write for the sake of writing and not have to DO something with that writing. Which is why discovering fan fiction was AMAZING!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

To actually answer the question, yes, I wrote more than I thought I would. I also wrote exactly as much as I thought I would, simply because these were all things I signed up for (with the exception of my Countdown fic, but I committed to it as if it were something that required a sign up).

I have a lot more ideas for 2021, but I don't know how many of them will come to fruition. I'm not putting pressure on myself to have to do anything beyond what I sign up for again, because it did work out so well for me starting off.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, the pairing and the fandom were in no way a surprise. 😆 They're my only ones, so those were both a given. The genre is also not surprising.

What's your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

A Man of Letters, without any hesitation. I adore it so much. It's the kind of fic I know I will unabashedly sit down to read over and over, even if I'm the one who wrote it. I had one reader to please and it was ME. By far, my most self-indulgent fic.

Okay, NOW your most popular story?

That depends on the metric.

To the Manor Borne leads in Comments (107), Kudos (153), and Hits (1992), and Use Your Words leads in Bookmarks (26).

But since To the Manor Borne is top in 3 out of 4 metrics, I'll say that one.

Story most upderappreciated by the universe?

I mean, the least popular by a wide margin is At the Top of a Tower, With You, but I don't know if I'd call it underappreciated. It's short, it's angsty, it's got a very unusual style, it's Lucy POV, it's the first fic I wrote and posted. I didn't really go into it with high performance expectations. I'm proud of it, I just didn't expect it to be popular. It would be nice if more people read it, but I'm not broken up over it.

Story that could have been better?

I'm not even going to touch this one. Everything can always be improved upon, but if I go down that route, nothing will ever be done. This is one of the things I have come to appreciate about traditional art versus digital. With traditional, there is only so much you can do before something is permanent and you have to live with it. It's an exercise in letting go and acceptance. Digital is flashier and more flexible, but I could (and have) spend months on a single piece and never feel satisfied, never stop tweaking. I think that's also the reason I started to hate my novels.

Sexiest story?

Based purely on overall vibes, I find the understated tension of the Regency the most appealing, so I'm going to say A Man of Letters. I didn't actually stray into sex territory in any of my fics (though Simon and Baz have had sex by the time To the Manor Borne starts, and refer to it, and probably do it "offscreen"), but A Man of Letters is the one that feels sexiest to me. Lots of thirsting!Baz and feral!Simon and sensual hand touching (how risqué!) - and YEARNING. That, to me, is the sexiest vibe of all. So. Much. Yearning.

Saddest story?

At the Top of a Tower, With You - for this one, I tagged "angst without plot" and I stand by that. It's Lucy losing her connection to Simon at the end of CO and trying to find a way to reconcile herself to leaving him alone again. I gave it as much of a hopeful bent as I could, with the refrain of Baz's spoken "love" to cling to, but it's very sad.

Most fun?

To the Manor Borne - All of my fics have their fair share of angst, but this one also has some good, silly, holiday fluff thrown in. Since I wrote it for the Countdown, each chapter was based on a different prompt, which led to this one going in all sorts of directions no single fic probably ever should. Plus, it has the most Shepard, and Shepard always makes things more fun.

Story with the single sweetest moment?

Oh my god. I don't know. No, never mind. I do. It's To the Manor Borne, but it's split between the two gift giving scenes, the Constellations and Secret Santa/Gift Giving prompts. These were private moments between Simon and Baz, sharing themselves with each other, being vulnerable, and communicating. It's the gifts they give each other, yes, but it's more so the reasons they chose those gifts, and how they show part of themselves and share their love for each other, through those gifts, that had me in tears writing those two scenes. I'm super proud of them.

Hardest story to write?

Use Your Words - it was written for an exchange and that made it really hard to write it knowing there was this pressure of making my gift-ee happy with the fic. I'm proud of it, and they really liked it, but the anxiety was too much for me.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

A Man of Letters - if there is a fic better suited to me as a writer, I haven't met it. I started writing after reading Pride and Prejudice in high school, so I started out writing Regency and I spent years and years and years of my life obsessed. When I transferred into college, an administrator I had never met before heard my name during orientation and said, "Oh, you're the Austen scholar." (It is a small, private college, and I was a transfer, so the pool of students was even smaller. But still. Many years later, I'm clearly not over it.) I also did my senior thesis on an epistolary novel (Frances Burney’s Evelina), and my English Lit emphasis was for that time period. So, I felt like I had been preparing for this fic my entire adult life. 😂

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I don't think so. I tend to let my writing be dictated by the characters, so I'm always following their lead. Sometimes they'll do or say something that surprises me and takes me down a route I didn't necessarily foresee, but I don't think there was ever a point where one of them did something that made me rethink who they are as a character.

Most overdue story?

I will say A Man of Letters, since that one felt like a culmination of my seventeen-year-old self's wildest writing dreams. But I should probably say the Scooby Doo AU I still haven't managed to finish, because that one has been a WIP since I joined the fandom. Oops. (I'm hoping when I look over this in a year, I can feel smug that it's finally done.)

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Writing at all was a risk for me! And writing fan fic for the very first time! Writing an entire fic told only through letters. And then ending it in a completely different style from the rest of the fic. Doing a multi-chaptered fic for the Countdown, using a different prompt for each chapter, and publishing a chapter every single day for thirty days (with the exception of two days that had art). Signing up for fandom events in the first place!

What I learned from taking risks in my writing is the same thing I learned when I took risks in my art this year. I have a much better appreciation for what I've done when I push myself, I feel better about the end product, and I like it longer. I think it's really good for me to challenge myself creatively.

This year's theme and the story that demonstrates it most?

Oh boy. Um. Therapy! Both Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne had their big HEA moments built around sending Simon and Baz to therapy. I don't think that's likely to change for future fics, either. I feel like therapy as the theme for 2020 seems very fitting. (Also, I think I keep sending the boys to therapy because I'm trying to get myself there…)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Just to write what I want to write, have fun, not put any pressure on myself, and to take risks in my writing and my art because it will help me to grow.

[insomniblaque]

I’ve been thinking about romantic love for a little while now. Well, mostly romantic, but in general I’ve been contemplating my relationship with men and where love fits in those relationships. I’ll be honest, romantic love hasn’t manifested itself in the way I’ve seen other people experience it. I’ve never been in a mutual relationship with someone I’d call a partner, I haven’t been intimate with a person long enough for that part of a relationship to materialize, and I’ve been thinking a lot about why that is, and the role I’ve had in perpetuating that experience. When I was first trying to learn what love was supposed to look like, around middle school I’d say, I wanted to blame myself and relatively superficial factors based on some of my most intimate insecurities — how I felt about my body, my skin, my hair as the reasons why boys didn’t come flocking to me. I blamed things that are uniquely tied to what I looked like. The way I saw love being expressed to other girls — girls who were taller, lighter, skinnier, with less acne molded my expectation of what men wanted and fueled the insecurities I had because they seemed to be everything I wasn’t. While these thoughts existed and played a role in how closed off I was to the idea of professing my intense like for men, they didn’t stay for long, mainly because of the relationships I had with men at that time. My father always made it a point to affirm my worth. My father loved my smile, my gap, my violet gums, my cheeks and voice and never forgot to remind me of how special and beautiful  I am. He would jest about when I would bring a boy home often because “there was no way they weren’t asking to approach me” because I look the way I do. My friendships with mostly boys around that time also offset some of that insecurity because I had friends who not only valued me as a person but appreciated me for things I didn’t necessarily notice in myself like my wit, sense of humor, ability to listen and call them out on their shit.

Over the years, I’ve gone through different phases of trying to redefine my insecurities for myself but ultimately so that I wouldn’t let these self limiting beliefs stand in the way of the potential relationships I could develop. It started with my face. The ugly duckling years of middle school prompted my first interests in learning about makeup so that I could distract people from what I didn’t want them to see.  It evolved into a genuine appreciation of the art and eventually a form of therapy for me. I loved beautifying myself for me -- a stray compliment (though I didn’t know how to accept them) also contributed to the boost in dopamine but ultimately, it was the agency of being able to do something only I knew how to do at the time that added to my confidence. Next was my hair, I think I was the most insecure about that for the longest time. My sister always had thicker, longer hair than me and my worth — especially in a deeply Caribbean household felt tied to how manageable and beautiful I could be and hair was the first indicator of that. When relaxed, my hair was thin, uneven, and barely scraped my shoulders. In high school, after having skipped a couple of relaxer sessions before the first day of my sophomore year, I chopped it all off with kitchen scissors. I remember wanting to see if I could feel beautiful without hair and that would be the “social experiment”. Learning to love the hair that grew out of my head at any stage and detaching the value of my beauty from it was not what I thought I was doing that day at 15, but looking back my confidence grew over time from this dissociation. I was just a year and a half early from the boom of natural hair journeys and big chops of that era (yes, if you haven’t noticed I am ahead of my time in a lot of ways lmao) where other women and girls were also expanding their definitions of self-love via their hair and that also made me feel more confident that I can be all of myself around anyone. Hair no longer was a contributing insecurity for me. Recently, I did another dramatic chop, rooted more in an existential crisis, but it also kind of reminded me of the first — how I could still see myself as beautiful without relying on the factors that are called conventionally beautiful. Last, was my body. I had been prone to unhealthy habits rooted in my poor body image for as long as I could remember like restricting meals, unsustainable diets, even at one point abusing drugs (long story) to try to shave off of a few pounds or to try to find the semblance of abs under all my stomach fat. This insecurity was the hardest to shake. Looking at old pictures of myself these days baffles me because when I was trying my hardest to lose weight, I was probably at my skinniest. I didn’t begin redefining my body image until I got to college and needed to find a way to curb the freshman 15. A friend introduced to weightlifting our freshman year and all I can remember is how powerful it made me feel. The simple movements of a squat or a deadlift wasn’t what brought the thrill, it was the amount of weight I could hold in my hands for an extended period of time, the mass I could move that made me feel like if I could do that then I could do anything. Fitness in the form of weightlifting where I was tracking progress with what I could do and not how I looked like really helped me redefine the boundaries of my body. I still struggle with body image every now and again since I’m still very far from a set of well defined abs and too many things jiggle without my permission most times and I think it will always be a work in progress for someone like me who’s intrinsically a perfectionist but the frame shift I have experienced since has empowered me in ways that I never thought would belong to me.

Now back to men. I think it was around this time last year that I started taking a critical look at why I was the way I was where men are concerned. It was at the height of my dad’s battle with cancer and I was ini school failing and riddled with guilt about it. The first real idea of what a relationship would look like for me also came up in my thoughts. A guy , the topic of many stories and a couple of playlists, who I had a lot of respect for but for all intents and purposes didn’t reciprocate that respect in the ways I felt I needed kept coming into my mind at that time. We had a relatively complicated history spanning almost ten years now and it was the kind of connection that I didn’t want to bring with me as powerful as it was. The back and forth took me back to a place where my insecurities were the root of my worth and validation and that was no longer my truth. Some part of me really wanted to believe that we were the kind of people who would always find our way to each other and I held a lot of love for him. But given the place I was an in at the time, I felt like I was on the road to losing some of the most important men in my life and I wanted to do as much that was in my power to curb that by questioning the love l held for all the men in my life. So I sent some letters and one of them was to him. Disclaimer, I was really embarrassed by the letter and even more embarrassed that I sent it to his school email so he had no choice but to read it. But in this letter, I thanked him. I thanked him for seeing me— all of me when I felt like nobody did but also told him that I needed to cut the ties that attached my sense of self to how he saw me and felt about me considering he was one of the first people to admit to seeing me in a romantic context. We were becoming adults, diverging paths and still something in me was holding out for him and I knew I needed to work on letting that go. It took me a week to write that letter and another week and some liquid courage to send it to him. I wrote a couple of other letters, mailed some, kept others. Overall in this exercise, I realized the lack of emotional vulnerability I have always struggled with, the coldness as a defense mechanism that I was comfortable using and the sense of security I felt from the validation of my father and my best male friends all fueled the way I shot myself in the foot when it came to letting new men into my life. Fast forward, my father has passed, this man is back in my life in the context of a healthy friendship and I am working on the final frontier of emotional vulnerability so that whatever the next romantic experience that comes my way, I won’t run from it. I made this with all the men I’ve loved in mind, my daddy, my best friend, the first person I said I love you to and meant it, a person who I’ve recently resigned myself to just get to know as opposed to making advances on and every situation I have yet to encounter where the male half of our species is involved. This is to all the men I’ve loved before, will always love, and hopefully will learn to love. Enjoy it.

[renee-writer]

Hitman Chapter 7 A Date?

The next morning, he exits the lift to find Claire sitting in his waiting room.

‘’Good morning Mr. Fraser.’’ She stands when he walks in.

‘’Good morning Miss Beauchamp. How may I help you?’’ He hopes treating her like any other person who comes in his office and not like the lass that haunted his dreams, would cover what she is doing to him.

‘’I thought I would save you the postage and just pick up Frank's, or should I say Uncle Lamb’s book, as I have discovered that Frank stole the research from him. I wish to return it to him.’’

‘’Of course,’’ he leads her back into his office, ‘’ in that case I wouldn’t publish anyway. I've high standards.’’ He invites her to sit. ‘’Can I get you anything?’’

‘’A coffee please.’’ He nods and rings for his assistant, ‘’ Milk and sugar.’’ His assistant enters and he hands him a five pound note.

‘’Go get Miss Beauchamp a cup of coffee with milk and brown sugar.’’ He nods and heads out. ‘’So Miss, err Claire, Frank stole your Uncle’s research?’’

‘’Yes, Uncle Lamb, gave Frank some of his research to look over but he used it without crediting him. He just used it as his own.’’

Jamie’s assistant came in and handed Claire the coffee. They continue the conversation and she tells him he wasn’t only cheating with the book. She tells him about discovering his many girlfriends. Jamie is careful too keep his face a mask. He knew all this. It was part of the reason the bloke had to die. But she is just finding out.

‘’And, a strange thing happened that night, the call wasn’t from the hospital. I stayed because they got busy. Oh, I need to apologize to you Jamie. I wasn’t at my best the first day we meet. Frank had forced me to come along. I didn’t wish to, nothing against you, I just don’t like to be forced into things.’’

‘’I understand. Don’t worry about it. I knew something was wrong but it wasn’t my place to inquire about it.’’

‘’You are a true gentleman. Unlike, ‘’ she sighs and fingers the manuscript he had handed back to her. ‘’well, I must be off. Thank you for the coffee and for listening.’’ She stands up to leave and he stands with her, habits his parents had long instilled coming back in her presence.

‘’Claire, when will you be back?’’ He knows she is heading to Oxford to return her uncle’s work.

‘’In two days, but then working until the weekend, why?’’

‘’I just thought you might want to see the rights of London with me.’’

‘’That would be lovely. I really haven't taken the time with everything else going on.’’ She gives him her number and he walks her to the lift. ‘Thanks for everything Jamie.’’ He stands and watch’s the numbers count down to the ground floor before walking back into his office. Why had he did that, asking her out. He doesn’t take women out. He just pays to take them as a brute when he has need. Shaking his head at himself, he enters her number in his phone. Later in the day, he text her and made sure she had made it to Oxford okay. She had and thanks him again.

Later he looks on the dark web for any other jobs. Oh, that is interesting. He was being hired to take out himself! Hired by his crazy stalker. Well, that will never do. He copies the information, removing any trace of where it came from and sends it to the Yard. The next day he finds out she had been arrested. His sister calls in a panic.

‘’Jamie, oh God, I didn’t know she was that crazy! Are you alright lad?’’

‘’I am fine,, Dinna fash. You couldn’t have ken'd. She is locked safely away now.’’ He reassures her even as he thinks of the lass his heart yearns for. It makes no sense but even as he talks to Jenny, he is texting Claire to make sure she is okay. His relief at her, ‘ yes. Home now. See you this weekend.’ Is more then he feels for his own safety. It is crazy. He is a killer, the killer of her husband.

That Saturday, they meet at the London Eye. They walk towards Waterloo bridge and the Convent garden and some bistro's Jamie knew there. It is close enough to the hospital that if she gets called in, she can easily head back.

‘Do you like living in London?’’ He asks after they are seated. It is a bit cold to be seating outside but it is so pretty.

‘’Yes and no. I lived in Oxford before Frank and I meet,’’ she runs her hand over her left hand, bare now where her wedding ring used to be, ‘’we then moved to Boston. But, after his death, well I needed to be near family. Uncle Lamb helped me see, or is helping me see that Frank's death wasn’t my fault.’’

He is shocked that she would blame herself. ‘’Why would you think it was?’’

‘’I am a doctor Jamie. A doctor and my husband passes of a coronary and I am not there to help.’’

‘’You were at the hospital, aye?’’

‘’Yes just.. The police checked, especially with his parents deaths. Yes. I was. I found out about his adultery later. It wasn’t a motive. We weren’t fully happy. He would say I was working to much. Wanted to start a family. Oh, and then I find out he already has. One of his mistresses is expecting.’’ She starts to cry as she continue, ‘’ I was embarrassed, the wronged women everyone was whispering about. I needed to be where people didn’t know me.’’ Her tears are freely falling now. Jamie feels helpless. He longs to comfort her but taking her in his arms would be his undoing.

‘’Dinna cry lass.’’ He softly says. ,’’He was in the wrong not you.’’ She pulls herself together and her phone rings. A deep breath and a wiping of her eyes before she answers.

‘’Yes. I see. I will be right there.’’ She rings off. ‘’I am sorry but I must go.’’

‘’I will see you to a cab. Text me later if you wish.’’

‘’I will. You are a wonderful listener Jamie.’’

He places her in a cab and pays the driver. He then stands routed to the spot watching her ride off. Now what? He is uncomfortable. He feels strange, at lose ends. He, when he has felt this needy, he knew how to handle it. But the thought of another woman made him feel a bit nauseous. He hurries back to his flat and changes into workout clothes. He runs to the gym and has a brutal workout. He is trying and failing to exercise her out of his brain.

She is beautiful, smart, and sassy. Vulnerable and needy. He is the darkness that should stay away from her light. But he is drawn to it like a moth to the flame. Now what? He has never been here before. He wants her and can’t take her. She is a new widow and he is such bad news.

His phone binged with a text message alert.

‘’I am off. Would you like some dinner with me. I will cook.’’

The smart thing to do would be to run the opposite direction but. ‘Can I bring anything?’

‘Whisky and wine.’

That he can do. A bottle of Fraser's special and a good bottle of wine from his uncle's collection. A shower and shave and he heads to her house.

She comes to the door with a huge smile. It lights up his world. Christ, he is in trouble.

‘’Hello there. Come in.’’ he follows her in. Her home is simple but elegant. Her. He knows what their Boston home looked like from photos he found on the dark web. This was lighter with more her. ‘’Let me get you oriented. Bedrooms upstairs,’’ she says as she places the bottles he had handed her on the counter, ‘’ there is a bathroom on this floor.’’

‘’You have a big home.’’

‘’Well, my uncle and his wife have a 10 year old son, Fergus. I wanted him to have room and space here. He will be coming up next weekend to see the sights. I will take him to winter wonderland.’’

‘’I would be happy to come with you, to keep you and the lad safe.’’ He offers before he thinks. She laughs and he feels it soul deep. That laugh! He knows he would do anything to hear it again.

‘’He is ten and has a ton of energy. Another adult would help.’’

A timer rang in the kitchen and he follows her that direction. She pulls out a roast with potatoes and carrots.

‘’Wow! You made that?’’ She laughs again. She is determined to kill him.

‘’No. My housekeeper did. But, I did cook it. She worries that I don't eat enough.’’

‘’Do you?’’ She shrugs

‘’Come, let's eat and talk.’’

She tells him she had been working hard to keep her marriage and career together. That since his death she had slowed down.

‘’Still a surgeon but went from trauma surgery to consultant in general surgery. Less insane hours. I hardly every have to work weekends now. The irony is Frank would be pleased.’’

He tells her about the publishing world. That it wasn’t near as glamorous as it seems. ‘’A lot of reading bad manuscripts. Oh, there was one about a woman traveling through time to meet the love of her life.’’

That giggle again. ‘’Did you publish it?’’

‘’Nae it wouldn’t have sold.’’

The clean up together after they meal. ‘’I will get some glasses for the whisky.’’

‘’I pray you like it. It is from Lallybroch, my family's estate. It isn’t on the market. Made by my da for our family.’’

‘’Oh nice.’’

They take seats on her couch. Jamie is careful to seat far away from her as the couch allows. But as they drink they move closer. Before he can react, she is pressed close to him and is kissing him. It is just a peak but it is enough to fire his blood. It also throws him into a panic. He freezes for a minute. Now what? His body reacts as his mind struggles. He takes her lips in a frenzy. Now what?!