#i am once again banging on pots and pans and screaming can we PLEASE make a ship name for me to tag

[lambden]

this doesn't come as a surprise but once more i come to ask for more vesemir/fil :D with hurth/comfort and “Look me in the eye; are you sure you’re alright?”

14. hurt/comfort + 3. "Look me in the eye; are you sure you're alright?" T, 990 words, set in NOTW era / no content warnings

Vesemir wakes up panting, drenched in sweat. As he struggles to regain his breath, his companion Filavandrel crosses their tiny room in a second. The elf puts a hand on Vesemir’s shoulder, climbing onto the bed next to him. It would be like something out of a perfect fantasy if only he wasn’t still shaking, fighting the last vestiges of his nightmare.

The blond takes Vesemir’s clenched fist in his other hand, running his fingers over the witcher’s knuckles until finally Vesemir relents and releases the blanket. Then Filavandrel squeezes their palms together, murmuring too softly for any human to make out, “Bad dream?”

Tomas still claws at his ankle, monstrous ichor still running down his skin from where he got stabbed. He’s pretty sure he got stabbed; in this dream, the silver had been as heavy as it once was. Just like how it had happened in reality, Deglan had sent them out into the treacherous swamp near Kaer Morhen. This time, not a single recruit had made it back to the fortress.

“What do you fucking think,” Vesemir whines. He doesn’t have the energy to be nice, and the elf must sense that because he pulls away. Vesemir clutches at his fading grip in an embarrassing and pathetic attempt at pulling him back onto the bed but it isn’t necessary, not when Filavandrel is only retreating to the table between their beds.

Vesemir kicks his ankle out under the covers and brushes off the remainder of his dreams. This is reality— he isn’t in the Red Swamp, but in a surprisingly roomy inn somewhere in Kaedwen. And he isn’t in the company of long-dead friends but of the elf Filavandrel, who he keeps running into at the least opportune moments. They’re making it work despite— or due to— the strangeness of their circumstances. Vesemir doesn’t give much of a fuck if the world is against him as long as he can make some coin to reach his dreams, and while the elf’s motivations are more idealistic and less greedy, he’s on a similar page regarding the perceptions of others.

Now that he’s fully awake he can fully regret wasting a night like this on a nightmare. He and Filavandrel had rented a spacious room and split a bottle of fine wine, but then Vesemir had drawn away, throwing out some excuse about wanting to enjoy the comfortable bed. Why had he said that, anyway? Nobody rents a room like this so that they can just get a good night’s sleep. Even the innkeep had looked incredulous when he and Filavandrel had requested a room with two beds.

The elf, unaware of Vesemir’s ogling, pours from the pitcher on the nightstand and hands a small cup to Vesemir. Vesemir downs it greedily only to be disappointed when water hits his tongue, but he hardly isn’t going to complain. He needs to regain the hydration he lost through sweat anyway, and— oh, fucking hell, had he been crying in his sleep? This is fucking humiliating. It’s been years since his trials.

“Does that help?” Filavandrel’s hands fidget around the rim of his own cup, and when he notices Vesemir watching him he gulps it down in an instant, replacing it on the table. Then he settles back down onto the bed, nervously toying with the thin sheet still covering Vesemir’s lower half. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“The water was great,” Vesemir assures him, only so that he can watch the elf preen. Filavandrel might be a devoted, determined hero but try as he might to hide it, he’s got a proud streak a mile wide. A man after Vesemir’s own heart. “You know what might help? Maybe you could stay here,” he suggests boldly, reaching to cover Filavandrel’s twitching hand with his own. “With me.”

Filavandrel jerks a thumb towards his own bed. “I am staying here with you, remember?”

“Right, but…” Vesemir tilts his chin up, baring his neck as if he’s inviting a vampire into his bed and not an elf. “You know. It might provide a welcome distraction.”

To his genuine shock, Filavandrel doesn’t leap on the offer immediately. He turns his palm in Vesemir’s and places his other hand on top. It feels as intimate as a kiss; Vesemir frowns. The elf admits, quietly, “I heard you moaning names in your sleep.”

Vesemir tries hard to hide his wince. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I wasn’t calling for you. Filavandrel’s quite the mouthful.”

He winks, but Fil is having none of it tonight. “Not that kind of moaning.” Suddenly Vesemir feels trapped between his hands and under his gaze, and he itches to throw the elf out of his room so that he might get some actual rest without any interrogation. “You were calling for someone named Tomas…?”

“An old acquaintance.” Vesemir tugs his hand free of the elf’s grip and Filavandrel doesn’t hang on, but he doesn’t move away either. The witcher’s skin crawls. “I don’t know! It was a fucking nightmare. I’m fine, Fil.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re alright,” the elf commands, haughty as a prince. But his words hit hard, and Vesemir swallows, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he’s made himself. Deglan might hate this more than how freely and wantonly Vesemir wastes his coin from the Path. A witcher should meditate instead of sleeping, and he should force down any emotion that somehow managed to survive the Trials, and he should definitely not be making close friendships on the Path with people that could disappear at any second. Or worse, handsome immortal elves that could stick around forever.

“Do we have to talk about this,” sighs Vesemir. “Can’t you just fuck the nightmare out of me?”

“Maybe after,” Filavandrel teases, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “Who’s Tomas?”

“Fuck,” Vesemir closes his eyes. “Fuck. Fine! Get ready for a long story, blondie.”

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Request: Hello! Congrats on the 2k. Can I please have prompt 43 from choice 4 with Shoto for the 2k event? Thank you very much!

Hello nonny. 😊 Thank you so much. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for Todoroki so I hope you like to. 🥺❤️

Pent Up Tension || {NSFW} Todoroki x Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, language, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1.7k

You saw the pro-hero running through all the chaos as you looked on. You couldn’t help but admire how your best friend looked so at ease out there despite the complete mess around him. He blasted villains with ease with a mixture of his flames and ice, perfectly intertwining with each other to make the most treacherous of attacks.

But that was Shoto Todoroki for you. Nothing less than perfection. That’s what he was raised to believe.

Another injured was wheeled up next to you, your eyes unable to be torn away from the scene before you. Another blast of fire made the temperature in the entire area rise, almost feeling like it was burning your skin.

The only thing that brought you out of your trance was the words of you co-worker. “Y/n! Earth to y/n. We have a patient!”

You shook your head as you came back to earth, instantly getting back to work. “Hand me that sterile spray and some gauze.” You reached a hand out as you smiled at the woman on the stretcher. “I need to clean your wound. But it doesn’t look too serious so this should only take a minute.”

Your small words seemed to put her at ease while you got to work, talking small glances up once in a while as you heard screams and praises by the people below.

When everything settled and the last injured was transported to the hospital after their initial field care he finally approached you, something he did after every battle that you were around for.

You had been lucky enough to be one of the only people in Shoto’s life that he had really let in.

You felt the warmth of his left hand on your shoulder and turned around, nearly jumping into his arms. “You did so awesome, Shoto!”

Shoto held you there, letting the hug linger a little longer than he should have. Cameras began to flash everywhere as they focused on the two of you. When he finally let you go he did something he had never done before. Whether it was the cameras or just his adrenaline from his fight, you were unsure, but you didn’t dislike it. A soft kiss was placed to your cheek and he slowly spoke as he walked toward the cameras. “I’ll be right back. Once I’m done with the press you and I can go grab dinner.”

You stood in place, barely able to move. You hand raised to your cheek, covering where he had just pressed his soft lips to your skin. A small smile spread across your cheeks despite the eyes you felt on yourself.

You heard the voice of your co-worker again, breaking you from your trance for the second time today. “Are you and Shoto a thing, Y/n?”

You turned around and raised your hand, waving them off. “No, we’re not. We’re just really good friends.”

The words almost hurt to say, especially after what had just happened, but you fought through it.

Your co-worker laughed and slowly walked away, ready to take off for the day while you stayed behind and watched him.

* * * * * *

Shoto smiled slightly as he reapproached you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he led you away from the remaining crowd of people. “How about we go back to my place and I cook you a nice dinner for your hard work out there today?”

You wanted to laugh at him. Shoto was never this sappy when it came to you. Your confusion was present on your face, but Shoto ignored it. “That sounds good.”

You looked down at your scrubs and realized that you were most definitely not dressed to be going anywhere. Shoto laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you toward his car that was parked in the distance. “Don’t worry about it Y/n. You can borrow some of my clothes and I’ll wash your scrubs before you head back home later.”

You were still unsure of how you had gotten lucky enough to have a best friend like him, but you smiled and agreed, watching as he opened the passenger side door of his car.

The drive to his place was silent as you both took in the scene of what had just happened. It was something that you wouldn’t ever get used to, but you had someone who was always there to help you through it.

As you entered his house you took in the familiarity of it all. He didn’t change it much, the most he might do is move something around the room, but Shoto had never been a huge fan of change.

You took a seat on the couch and waited for him to bring you some clothes, and once they were in your hand you headed to the bathroom to change for the night. You knew that Shoto wouldn’t object to you staying the night, it wouldn’t have been the first time that you did it. He often left you his bed and slept on the couch so that you wouldn’t have to drive home late at night.

As you changed you heard pots and pans banging around in the kitchen as Shoto got to work. You climbed into his clothes and took in the scent of him, it had still been lingering on his clothing even after they had been through the wash.

When you opened the bathroom door you could already smell the food beginning to cook, and seeing Shoto at the stove had you drooling where you stood. You hated how attracted to your best friend you were and you hated that you couldn’t ignore it.

Shoto turned to see you coming toward him. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I’ll never be able to get used to seeing you in my clothes.” A chuckle filled the kitchen as you walked to the opposite counter and faced him, climbing up onto it and smiling.

Shoto walked toward you and your heart began to beat out of your chest. What was wrong with you? Why were you like this?

His hand slowly reached out and touched the string to his sweatshirt that you wore, tugging slightly to even it out with the other. But once he fixed it, he didn’t back away. You were unsure, but you had thought that he had gotten closer to you. His warm breath touched your cheek and you realized that you had been right.

It wasn’t like Shoto to give in to his urges, but something about seeing you in his clothes was driving him crazy.

His lips slowly approached your own, the temptation to lean forward and press yours to his was about to suffocate you.

With a sudden movement, Shoto pressed his lips to yours, letting them linger as you danced together. His hands grasped your hips and squeezed, pulling you forward on the counter, pressing you into his own.

When your lips parted, you both fought for breath. Shoto nervously exhaled and looked down at your lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know wh-”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back to you, not letting him finish his sentence before letting your lips passionately hit him again.

As he pulled his head away you barely made out his words. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

You could barely control yourself before, but those words made you want to scream. “Then show me, Shoto.”

His hands grabbed at the bottom of the pair of boxers that he had given to you to wear and pushed them to the side. With haste, his hand slid up the leg, his fingers rubbing against your folds as he found your heat. As he leaned forward he felt the bulge in his pants growing with each passing second, growing painful as he ignored it.

You dropped your head back as bliss immediately began to flow through you, filling all your senses as you tried to keep yourself under control.

Shoto grabbed your chin with his free hand and pulled your face to him, staring with intent as he egged you on. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He removed his hand and placed it in your hair, tugging slightly as he spoke more. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to jump you, how long I’ve held it back.”

You grabbed at his belt and couldn’t undo it fast enough, pulling his pants down to expose his erection for you.

“Someone’s impatient.” He smirked as he watched your lustful eyes run down his body. “Better not keep you waiting.”

Shoto grasped his length and pushed the boxers you wore to the side again, lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. As his cock filled you, you threw your head back again. His name left your lips as his hips continued to roll into yours. “F-fuck, Shoto.”

The more moans that came from you the quicker his pace became. His hair dropped into his face, covering his eyes as you slowly pushed it away so you could see him. Determination filled his face as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

The coil in your abdomen threatened to snap as he relentlessly rut his hips into you. He knew you were close so he moved his hand between your thighs, rubbing his fingers against your clit, the perfect mixture of pleasure as the coil inside you finally gave.

Your orgasm shattered the world around you as Shoto leaned forward against you and emptied himself out inside your cunt.

Shoto pressed his forehead to yours and smiled as he caught you staring back. “I’m so glad we finally did that.”

You chuckled and cupped his face into your hands. “I am too, Shoto.”

The sound of water boiling over the pot on the stove brought the two of you back to the real world and caused laughter to erupt from you. Shoto kissed the tip of your nose and smirked. “Maybe we should just order out?”

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @chaoticsimptown @ellechanwrites @bonnisimpparker @impinthecloset @taliyahvermillion @maat-the-prescriptive

[cedric-stories]

The Ball (Cedric x reader)

Word count: Around 1,700

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, and idk, they kiss? LOL

Reader pronouns: he/him

Plot: You just got hired to work as a waiter in the castle. (I’m crap at summaries, lol)

Author’s note: This was a request from @pap3r-fl0w3rs . It was my first request ever and I about fell out of my chair when you gave it to me, lol! Thank you so much for asking! I enjoyed writing this so much (even if it took forever for me to finish it, lol). Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The Ball

You were so excited. It’s the first day of your new job at the castle. You had seen an ad in the paper by chance about a waitering job. You didn’t ever think you’d actually get it, but next thing you knew, Baileywick was giving you an interview for the position. It had been a rough few days though. You had to move all your stuff up to the castle by noon yesterday. You were unpacking till 3am. Even though you were sleepy, it was worth getting the extra things done before getting started on your real job.

Orientation started at 8am and lasted till 5pm. Yes, 9 hours of sitting in a plastic chair listening to a gray old man rant about policies was tiring. The only good thing that came out of it was meeting a new friend.

“Hey, can I sit here?” A blond, slender young man asked. He had his arms crossed and looked rather uncomfortable.

“Of course,” you grinned, trying to seem as friendly as possible, “I’d love to have the company.”

He sat down quickly. “Thanks,” he paused then leaned in next to you. “Are you nervous?” he whispered.

“Oh yeah. I’m shaking,” You laughed, lifted your arm up to show him.

He looked comforted by your agreement.

“Yeah. So, what’s your name?”

“I’m y/n, what about you?”

“I’m Tyler, I came from the village.”

“So did I! Where at?”

You two continued talking till the lecture started. After, you walked out into the ball room to begin setting up.

Forks, napkins, plates, and tablecloths were flying everywhere. It was a race against the clock to get everything ready for the big night. Before the actual event started, you had to get changed into something more formal.

           Running back to your room, you ripped open your wardrobe to find an outfit. The castle staff had certain clothes you were able to wear for formal events, and since this was going to be one of the biggest balls of the year, you had to follow this exactly. Grabbing your newly ironed, black pants, you slipped them on along with your white button up shirt. You ran your belt through the loops and slapped on your suspenders. You were about to run out the door when you remembered your bow. Grabbing it out of your drawer, you snapped a raven black bow around your neck, fixed your collar, and ran for it.

           When you got back to the ballroom hall, you took a left into the employee doors. Fixing your hair, you tried steadying your breath and walked into the kitchen, trying not to appear too winded.

           “Once the royal sorcerer sets off the ceremonial fireworks, we will begin serving drinks. We will not start bringing out food of any sort until 11pm. Alright, let’s get ready.” The manager of the serving staff shouted over the clanking of pots and pans.

…

“Everyone, I’d like to thank you for being here,” The King began, standing on the golden ballroom stage.

Your heart was wildly pounding. This was it. This was your big chance to impress the King and staff by how well and efficient you could work. You could actually learn to love this job and living in Enchantcia’s castle would just be the cherry on top. Roland continued on and you were zoned out until you heard the word ‘fireworks.

           “My wonderful royal sorcerer, son of Goodwyn the Great and Winnifred the Wise, also known as Cedric the Sensational, will be lighting the ceremonial fireworks with magic this year.”

           As the crowd cheered, you saw a figure stepping out behind the curtain. He was average height and had dark hair. You could see he was wearing a long, plum robe with a large, floppy bowtie. His light bangs swayed as he walked up to center stage and his narrow shoulders were slightly scrunched together. Shaking, he took out his wand and said something quietly.

           Within seconds, lights spewed from every corner of the room. The Enchantcian colors filled every eye and the guests cried out with joy. One, then two, then the whole room began to applaud in the fireworks’ honor.

           Even though the room lit up like a candle, and the fireworks were clear and bright, the only thing you could focus on was that still-shaking man on the stage. You could see him running back and forth, making sure everything was going as planned. He looked to the King with his eyebrows raised and eyes big. King Roland gave him an approving nod in return, and you saw Cedric stand up a little taller. He was adorable.

You noticed him look your way. You caught his glace and locked eyes with him. His eyes were kind and full of a questioning look. You felt your cheeks heat up and you put your hand to your face to hold back a giggle. Suddenly, the fireworks began to crack and rumble.

“Cedric! What is going on?” The king yelled over the crowd’s fearful screams.

“I-nothing, sir! Let me fix it!”

You were horrified and ran to the backroom.

Once you got there, Tyler noticed your concerned look and the way you were gripping the table.

“Dude, are you okay?”

You looked up with a pale face.

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“First off, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Second, you were running for your life.”

You looked up at him.

“Well,” you hesitated, “I was looking at the royal sorcerer and- “

“Wait, like looking like ‘oh, he’s lighting off fireworks’, or looking like ‘oh, that guy’s really sexy’?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again and Tyler laughed.

“It’s okay, we all think people are hot. Okay, now go on.”

“Okay, well, I was checking him out when he looked back at me. We made eye contact for a minute then the fireworks started going nuts.”

“Oh,” Tyler paused, “well, maybe he got distracted by you.”

“What? No-I mean-he’s so him and I’m just a server. We don’t even know each other.” You laughed nervously.

“So? You should try to talk to him.”

“Try to…okay, I will.” You said, nodding your head.

“Good luck.”

Next thing you know, you’re out serving to the guests.

…

You continued to serve guests for around an hour. You reached a group on young women and waited until they had stopped talking to politely interrupt.

           “Hello, would any of you care for some drinks?” You asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

           They all looked at each other and smiled. As conversations normally go, two went to reply at once. This stopped both of them from replying and led them to get into a quiet “go ahead” “no, you go ahead” fight until finally they all started too giggle, and all declined the offer. You were about to walk away when you heard footsteps behind you.

           “H-hello, I’m Cedric.”

Your shoulders stiffened. Turning around, you saw the same man that was on the stage a few hours ago.

“Hello,” you answered, “my name is y/n y/l/n.”

           Cedric stared at you for a moment before saying anything. That moment felt like it lasted a year. His eyes were tightly fixed on yours as you began shifting.

           “Are you the same man that was standing by the servant’s doorway? During the fireworks.”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t know if you saw me or not. I was just-um-I thought,” you paused, unable to formulate your sentences correctly. He was so handsome, you had to try your hardest not to get too lost in his looks. “I thought you looked very attractive up there and I guess I was just staring.” You laughed, regretting how forward you had been.

           Cedric looked shocked.

“You thought I looked- “

           “Yeah.” You cut him off, sighing.

“Y/N! Why aren’t you serving guests? Go back to your job!” You heard your supervisor yell, marching over to you.

           “I’m sorry, sir. I was just- “

“I could fire you over this!” He shouted, giving you a menacing scowl.

           “Please, I’ll get back to work right away- “

“Actually,” Cedric interrupted, “I think he’s done enough work for the night.”

           Your supervisor shot Cedric an infuriated look.

“Cedric, he is my employee, he was employed to work for me.”

           Cedric cocked his head.

“Yes, I understand that, but I am above you in my services to this kingdom, so I think you, in a way, are my employee.”

           “Cedric- “

“So that being said, you are letting him off for the rest of the night. Understood?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

           “Fine.” The supervisor said, waving his hands in the air and walking off.

           You didn’t know what to say. You just stood there, frozen in time.

“Mr. y/l/n, would you care to dance?”

           You smiled.

“I’d love to.”

           The night was filled with dancing and talking. You began to get to know the sorcerer quite well.

You had guided Cedric out the door towards the gardens by the end of the 2nd hour of the morning. The two of you broke apart and you decided to walk towards the beautiful greenery.

           Walking along, you noticed his hand down at his side as you two walked.

“Cedric,” you said in a questioning tone.

           “Yes, y/n?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

           Cedric’s eyes widened.

“If you’d like to.”

           Without waiting another minute, you reached down and slid your hand around his. It was a weird feeling. You didn’t expect his gloves to feel cold and apparently, they were made of leather.

           Finally reaching a lush, secluded place, you stopped walking and looked up at Cedric.

“So, is it just me or is there something between us?”

           You laughed nervously.

“Well, I don’t know,” you slid your arms around his waist, “you tell me.”

           Cedric leaned in closer to you, pressing his body against yours.

“It would seem that maybe the two of us have some kind of- “he was cut off when you closed the gap.

           A soft kiss began, slowly continuing as you lifted a hand up to meet his cheek. You felt him shift, repositioning your other arm to wrap around his neck. Things began to heat up when you opened your mouth to see how he’d react. He was hesitant as first but gave in to letting your tongue enter.

           A few minutes had passed, and now you two had found a spot on the ground, you are hovering on top of him.

           Breaking the kiss, you looked into his hazel eyes and smiled.

“I think this should become a new habit of ours.”

           He leaned up to kiss you again.

“I believe that’s a wonderful idea.”

 Author’s note: so funny story. I don’t have someone to read any of my fics before I post them. This one meant a lot to me, so I decided I’d try my best not to have so many problems with my misspellings and grammar. To help make sure it flowed, I decided to turn on the read aloud setting on my document (I use Word to write my fics), and it was read to me in such a choppy, dry voice I was laughing my head off the whole time! Think of the most boring teacher reading a Cedric x reader fic! I think I’m gonna use it more often. It helped with the flow, but it also gave me a little happiness in the middle of these trying times. Love y’all! Hope you liked this!

           I want to post again soon, but honesty I don’t know when. I had a few things in the works that I really couldn’t connect to. I have new ideas, but I haven’t even written outlines yet

[kpopfanfictrash]

Blackjack + members have a bet on who can paint Yoongi's nails without getting busted.

Please enjoy this Heist-themed nail painting drabble. LOL

“Shh,” Taehyung whispers, crouching lower. “They’ll hear us.”

“If you keep whispering that loud, they will.” Hoseok pokes his nose over the counter, narrowing his gaze. “It’s truly amazing. Your decibel level hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung scowls. “I can’t help it! That’s who I am.”

“Ta-eeeeeee.”

“No,” mutters Seokjin, under his breath. He cocks the training gun at his side. “Not a fucking word, Tae.”

Taehyung looks longingly at the hall. “But…”

“No,” you whisper, pulling him down. “Lena can wait, Tae.”

He pouts. “But…”

“She’s trying to draw you out,” you hiss. “We split you onto different teams for a reason! Just like you did with me and Jungkook.”

 “Yeah.” Hoseok shifts to sit with his back to the counter. “Speaking of which, I’m surprised Jungkook hasn’t come barreling in here yet, trying to kidnap Y/N for his team.”

With a grin, you twist to see the kitchen door. Five minutes ago, you were chased in here by the opposite team. The opposing team; meaning Lena, Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. They named themselves Team A. You are Team Seokjin, for reasons unknown, but which Hoseok assured you were solid.

“Team Seokjin always wins,” he said, looking you dead in the eye.

At the moment though, this seems unlikely, given that you are currently hiding behind pots and pans in the kitchen, waiting to be picked off.

“What we need is a distraction,” you say, glancing at Taehyung.

“Y/N, if you wanted me to drop trou, you only had to ask.”

“No, thanks. What I meant is… we need a sacrifice,” you clarify.

Seokjin exhales and lowers his gun. “Y/N is right.”

“I know I am.”

“It’s a noble effort,” adds Hoseok, edging closer.

“Definitely,” Taehyung agrees, gaze locked on the door.

Seokjin and you exchange a glance. 

“Whoever did it would be a hero,” you say.

Taehyung does not move from the floor. “Absolutely.”

Hoseok slowly reaches out a hand. “Imagine the look on Namjoon’s face when he loses…”

Taehyung nods, absent-minded. “Right, so – HEY!” he yells, whirling around when Hoseok nabs his gun.

Before Taehyung can move, the barrel is pressed to his chest. Hoseok grins, cocking a brow. “Thank you for volunteering.”

Taehyung glowers, glancing down at the gun. “No fair,” he whisper-talks. “You’re literally the best shot we’ve got on this team.”

“Right,” you say, scooting forward. “Which is why he isn’t expendable. We need Hobi to cover while we run for Yoongi’s lair. You’ll distract Team A, Hobi will shoot and Seokjin and I make a dash for it.”

“Done.” Seokjin holds out his hand. “Who’s with me? Seokjin on three!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Taehyung frowns. “Have you two given any thought to what you’ll do once you get in there?”

Seokjin and you exchange glances. In truth, you have not. This is the main part of the event, after all. Who in Bangtan can paint Yoongi’s fingernails without him noticing? It started off as a dumb what-if but then, what with Bangtan being Bangtan, it devolved into this. A high-stakes heist where you have all split into two teams, pitted against one another.

Everyone was armed with training guns from the front hall and vests stolen from some SWAT team. Once this occurred, Namjoon gave the countdown and you split down the house. You did not encounter each other until this hall, outside Yoongi’s room.

It is debatable whether Yoongi sleeps at all. This is a part of the challenge – once you enter, you need to either 1) not wake Yoongi while painting his nails, or 2) overpower him long enough to get the nail polish on. Which is why both you and Seokjin need to make it together. One to hold Yoongi down and one to paint. Just in case.

Hesitantly, you glance at the door and a familiar head quickly pulls back from the frame. A low laugh escapes you, training your gun at the hall.

“Come on, baby,” you say, closing one eye. “Come out! I just wanna talk.”

Jungkook’s voice calls back. “Talk to me with this wall in between us! I don’t trust you!”

“Why not? We’re in love, bitch!”

“THEN YOU COME HERE!”

“NO!”

His laugh echoes, choking off when someone elbows him in the stomach. “Ow!” Jungkook mutters, trailing off into silence.

Lena’s voice is clear and distinct. “Focus, loverboy!”

With a grin, you gesture Team Seokjin closer. “Are you ready?” you whisper.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, reaching up to grab a brass pot from the counter. He fits this over his head, nodding seriously. “Ready.”

On Seokjin’s mouthed count, you burst from behind the counter.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Taehyung is first, screaming nonsense as he barrels off down the hall. Literal nonsense. “POOP!” he yells, kicking in the first door. “SARDINES!” He kicks down the second. “BANANA DICK!”

Lena pops out and tackles him to the ground. “Banana hammock!” she yells back, shooting Taehyung in the chest.

Taehyung growls, flipping her over to kick out a leg. Jimin trips over the limb, careening against the wall and nearly knocking over Jungkook. Hoseok is next, shooting over their heads to nab Namjoon in the chest.

Meanwhile, you and Seokjin sprint down the hall. Behind you are footsteps, but you pay no attention. Running in a zig-zag pattern, you reach Yoongi’s door and pull on the handle. The door opens swiftly, swinging out in an arc. For a moment, you hope he is not sleeping. Knowing Yoongi, he probably has both machine guns beside his bed. 

Luckily, he is not asleep. The door swings shut behind you, revealing Yoongi blinking in the light of his monitors. A sandwich is held in one hand, crumbs on his lips.

“Uh… hi?”

The door bangs open again, hitting the wall. “Y/N!” yells Seokjin, barreling in. “Tackle him, tackle him! I GOT THE PAINT!”

Giggling, you rush across the room. Yoongi stares at you both, bewildered until Seokjin knocks him out of his chair.

“OUCH!” goes Yoongi, hitting the ground. “Get the fuck off me, you twerp! I wasn’t even protesting!”

Seokjin pins him down, nail polish held between teeth. “Y/N!” he yells, spitting this onto the floor. “GRAB IT!”

You dash forward, reaching for the bottle when a shadow appears out of nowhere, tackling you on the floor. Jungkook grabs you easily, throwing himself on his back so his weight takes the brunt. You land on top of him with an oomph, breath knocked from your lungs. The nail polish lies untouched on the carpet.

Jungkook grins, caging your waist with his legs. “Nice try,” he growls. “You aren’t getting away from me that easy.”

“Seokjin!” you laugh, looking up. Jungkook has you locked firmly against his body. “Help!”

Seokjin still wrestles Yoongi to the ground, not paying attention. “Stop… fighting… back… you… OW! Did you just BITE me?”

Jungkook pushes his hips against yours. “Fight me harder,” he says huskily.

Returning to him, you glower and try not to show how turned on you are. “You dinkus,” you huff, punching his chest. The blow rolls off him like water and he laughs, baring teeth. “Let me go!”

His eyes glint in the darkness. “No.”

“If you let me go,” you say, leaning down. “I’ll do that thing you like when we get back to the room.”

Jungkook turns his head on the carpet, lips inches from yours. “Promise?”

You are about to nod when there is a sudden commotion in the doorframe. Lena appears, trying to claw her way through but Taehyung loops both arms around her waist, holding her back.

“Let me go!” she squeals.

“Babe, Hoseok shot you.”

“So?!”

“Those are the rules,” Taehyung laughs. “Shit!”

Still holding Lena, he stumbles forward and you realize he has been shot. Jimin leaps into the frame, grinning cockily – but then Hoseok appears, shooting him from behind.

“Aw, c’mon!” Jimin whines, although he steps aside.

Hoseok saunters forward, scanning the room. When he sees Jungkook beneath you, Hoseok points his gun, but you wave him forward. “I have this under control,” you assure.

“Yeah, you do,” Jungkook murmurs.

You turn to look at him, softening when you see his expression – and then his gun presses against your back. Your eyes widen.

“DONE!” yells Hoseok, holding Yoongi’s hand in the air. The right index finger is painted bright blue. “TEAM SEOKJIN REIGNS UNDEFEATED.”

Jungkook’s gun falls as he slumps to the ground. “Fuck.”

“That’s right,” you say, sliding off him to stand. “There will be none of that until you apologize for betraying me.”

“We were on opposite teams!”

“Groveling, Jeon! I except it!”

Then you skip off to join Hoseok, Seokjin and Taehyung in celebration. 

Yoongi still lies prostrate on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate this job,” he groans.

[ Blackjack Masterlist ]

[thisgirl-writes]

Professor’s Assistant - Part 6

Summary: College Junior, Sophie starts to develop a crush on her Political Science professor. Will it drive a wedge between her boyfriend Cody and her? Will it stay just a silly admiration?

Word Count: 1,626

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: Niamh is pronounced “nee + iv”. It’s Irish. It means “radiance, lustre, brightness." The daughter of the sea god Manannan” 

Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight shines through the apartment window, making you groan at the brightness. You realized that you had slept on the couch and that Tori was asleep in the chair next to you. You tried to pull the blanket back over your head to block out the sun that was coming through the windows.

You were almost asleep again when you heard the rustling of pots and pans in the kitchen. The events of last night are a little bit fuzzy, you don’t really remember much after dancing to a couple songs with Tori, who was now waking up in the chair.

“Cody can you please keep it down? My head is killing me” You mumbled as you rubbed your temple in attempts to ease the pounding in your head.

“Well whose fucking fault is that?” Cody replied loudly as he started purposefully banging pots and pans together to create more noise.

“Please, stop, please?” you attempted again, almost begging this time. Cody ignored your pleas and kept making noise. “Cody, what are you making for breakfast?” You asked giving up on getting him to do things quietly.

“I’m making ME bacon and eggs. I don’t know what the fuck you two are having” 

“Seriously Cody?”

“Well if you can be out all night, you can fix your own breakfast.”

Just then, Tori sat up, looking sleep deprived and pissed off.

“The LEAST you could do is be quiet while your girlfriend and her guest are trying to sleep, since you aren’t going to be a good host and make breakfast for everyone.” Tori stated.

“No one asked you! Who even said you could fucking stay here” Cody fired back at Tori.

“Listen here fucker, I stayed to make sure my best friend was okay while your sorry ass was sleeping.” Tori yelled back.

“I was sleeping because it was 3 in the fucking morning when you brought her drunk ass back! She should have never been out with you!”

“Oh! So, this is my fault now?”

“Enough! The both of you! Can’t you just get along for once?” You plead in attempts to get the two most important people in your life to stop arguing.

“Soph, I’m sorry. I’ll leave now” Tori said as she pulled you into a hug. “You know you can always come stay with me” she mentioned just loud enough for you to hear. You simply nodded and hugged her back.

“Good riddance, bitch” Cody says to Tori as she walks out the door.

“So lovely to see you again, dickhead hope to see you never”

You sighed heavily as Tori walked out the door. You still didn’t remember how the two of you got home last night, you had every intention of texting her later and asking her.

You made yourself a cup of coffee and some toast as you prepared yourself for the argument that was about to happen. Lately it seemed like the two of you had not been on the same page. A few small disagreements were normal, but they were never this intense and never this frequent.

“Cody, please just say something?” You asked him as you sat down at the small kitchen table that seemed to fit perfectly in the apartment you shared. Cody ignored you and kept staring at his phone. “At least look at me?” Once again, Cody ignored you still. Whatever was on his phone was apparently more important that talking out your issues. You made one more attempt to get his attention. “CODY JAMES FUCKING LOOK AT ME” You yelled as you slammed you closed fist on the table causing his coffee mug bounce off the edge of the table hitting the floor.

“What the actual fuck Sophie?”

“I was trying to get your attention so we could talk instead of you staring at your damn phone all morning” You shot back.

“Maybe I don’t want to fucking talk right now!”

“Cody, we need to talk about whatever this is that is causing us to argue right now!”

“You know what the problem is!” He yelled back at you. You just stared blankly at him, clearly not know what he was referring to. “Don’t play stupid right now”

“I’m not playing, I don’t know what the fuck you are so pissed off about!” You shouted back as you stood up from the table.

“Of course, you do! It’s about her!”

“Tori?”

“Yes her! Every time you hang out with her something happens”

“You are overreacting right now, and besides she is my best friend!”

“So, she’s a bad influence on you!” Cody shouted.

You had enough of him trashing your only friend. You turned to walk away when you felt his hand take hold of your wrist. Instinctively, you shook your arm trying to loosen his grip.

“Let go of me Cody!” You shouted back at him, still trying to break his grasp on your wrist.

“You started this, You’re the one who wanted to talk. You DO NOT get to walk away from me. Not right now!” His grip tightened as he spoke.

“CODY JAMES LET GO OF ME NOW!” You screamed as you continued to try to escape his grasp.

“Listen here Sophia Niamh, you wanted to talk, so we will fucking talk, and that means you aren’t going anywhere until we are finished!” His tone was almost sinister, a tone that you have never heard him use before. It was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“If you would let go of my fucking arm then we can talk.”

“Fine, then let’s get to the bottom of this shit then”

It seemed the hours had passed before either one of you spoke a single word. Both of you needed that silence to calm down from the scene that just happened in the apartment. You opened your mouth to speak but Cody cut you off.

“Are we gonna talk or sit here in silence until one of us falls asleep”

“Well, you’re the one who seems to have issues, so talk” You spat at him

“Oh c’mon Soph. This is bullshit”

“No, it’s not. Just tell me why you were so mad last night/this morning?” You finally asked while looking from you new cup of coffee. Cody rolled his eyes at the question. You sat in silence, just waiting for his answer. “Cody, I asked you a question.” 

“I know I heard.”

“Then what’s your answer?”

Cody released a heavy sigh and stood up from the table and made his way to the fridge and grabbed a beer.

“It is only 12:30 Cody. Do you really need to be drinking right now?”  You asked out of annoyance and concern.

“I do if we are gonna talk about this shit”

“Okay so spill you answer” You pushed for an answer. He rolled his eyes before he started to answer.

“Fine. I don’t like what’s her face”

“She has a name Cody, and she’s my best friend.”

“Well I don’t like her. She is constantly trying to get you to breakup with me” After hearing his response, you got up from your seat and made your way over to him. You wrapped your arms around him before you replied.

“Sweetie, she may have tried, but obviously she hasn’t succeeded, now has she?”

“Well no, but I still don’t like her, and she is a bad influence on you” You rolled your eyes and unlatched your arms from around his waist before you replied.

“Cody, how is she a bad influence? I would have gone out anyway. Who is to say if it wasn’t someone else. Someone who might not have made sure I got home okay!” You defended Tori from Cody’s words.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you to hang out with her again”

“You can’t be serious?!? You can’t stop me from being friends with someone!”

“I can sure as hell try!”

You stopped responding, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Cody was trying to get you to stop hanging out with the only person who hasn’t abandoned you. You just stood there, with an empty stare upon your face. Cody just stared back at you before opening his mouth to speak.

“Fine! I won’t stop you from hanging out with her, but” You didn’t let him finish that sentence.

“But what, Cody? Are you going to tell me I can’t go out in public with Tori now?” The question dripping with sarcasm.

“That’s EXACTLY what I am saying! Only here. Not even her apartment!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Cody and Tori had never seen eye to eye, and you knew Cody didn’t like Tori, but until right now he had at least tolerated your friendship with her.

“You’re fucking joking, right? Because you do not seriously think that you can limit my friendships!”  You shouted at him.

“I am 100% serious! End of discussion!”

“No not end of discussion, this is not okay Cody!” As you spoke, he took steps towards you.

“It is the end of this discussion because I SAID SO!”  Raising his voice as his reply finished, causing you to take a step back and hit the wall you didn’t realize that you were close too. After a few seconds he took a deep breath before he spoke again, “I’m headed out for a few hours. End of discussion.”

You were at a loss for words. You stood in silence as Cody walked out the door of the apartment. Standing there in the now silent apartment, questions started running through your mind. Was this really the best thing for you? Did Cody mean well, was he right? So many questions, it was starting to make your head spin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@smilexcaptainx @patzammit, @denisemarieangelina, @jbug491

[rhetoricalrogue]

OTP Question Meme

I was tagged by @bimollymauks thank you!

Answering with my new Zoe/Mason Wayhaven pairing and also my favorite OC OTP, mine and @alittlestarling‘s Roz/Vincent

Leaving this as an open tag, so whoever would like to join in, please do!  Fingers crossed that my Read More cut works, as this is LONG.

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Z/M: both, tbh. Zoe yells when she’s angry

R/V: depending on the situation, both, though Vincent goes deathly quiet when he’s truly upset.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Z/M: neither. Zoe’s abandonment issues kick in like woah and it’s a line that Mason never crosses.

R/V: Vincent, but it’s not leave-leave, it’s more “I need some air, I’ll be back later” to deescalate an argument before someone says something hurtful they don’t mean. 

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Z/M: N/A

R/V: Vincent, but he’s back in an hour or so after he’s cooled down.

Who trashes the house?

Z/M: not the house, but Zoe’s been known to vent her frustrations by throwing rocks into nearby bodies of water and scream if she’s at like Anger Level 11 on a 1-10 scale.

R/V: neither. Vincent would probably want to flip a table, but he doesn’t because he’d ultimately be the one to clean it up afterwards.

Do either of them get physical?

Z/M: Coming to blows? No. Shoving Mason out of her way (if he hasn’t already left yet) so she could storm out? Probably, but she retreats into her Touch Me Not mode, so that would only be if she felt cornered.

R/V: Absolutely not.

How often do they argue/disagree?

Z/M: rarely. They bicker and snark more than hold true arguments.

R/V: only when one feels the other is putting themselves in danger. They’ve grown up together for practically their entire lives, they’re pretty much of a same mind on many issues.

Who is the first to apologize?

Z/M: Zoe. “I’m sorry I was being an asshole” is a regular statement.

R/V: Vincent. He hates being at odds with Roz and is miserable if he can’t apologize and make things right between them.

SEX.

Who is on top?

Z/M: either/or with Zoe barely creeping in on top more.

R/V: Vincent, but he loves it when Roz takes initiative.

Who is on bottom?

Z/M: either/or, depending on the mood

R/V: Roz, but it’s a 50-50 split

Any kinks?

Z/M: Yep

R/V: Absolutely. You know, it’s the quiet ones that surprise you.

Who has the strangest desires?

There’s nothing too strange for either pairing. Both are open for experimentation and the “try it once to see if we like it” mindset, but it’s also not like “is the NSA agent looking at my search history blushing?” variety either. 

Who’s dominant in bed?

Equal opportunity for both pairings! 

Is head ever in the equation?

Z/M: Yes. Zoe texted Mason after not hearing from him for a few days with “Hey, I froze my ass off giving you a blowjob in the woods last week, answer your phone.”

R/V: Yes. It’s nice that it worked out that Vincent loves to give and Roz is enthusiastic about receiving.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Z/M: Mason, though he doesn’t complain at all when Zoe offers.

R/V: Vincent, since he’s had more practice during his “have casual sex with anyone with a pulse to get over Feelings” phase of pining over Roz.

Ever had sex in public?

Z/M: a few times

R/V: they’re Circle mages. It’s easier to name a place they haven’t had sex in, especially in the Sweethearts AU.

Who moans the most?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: They’re both quiet by default, but when they have the opportunity to be a couple out in the open? Vincent. 

Who leaves the most marks?

Z/M: Mason, purely because he heals up faster than either of them would like

R/V: Roz. It was a surprise to them both when they found out biting was a big turn-on for Vincent, so she uses it often. 

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Vincent

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

Z/M: fuck, though they have some “oh shit, this got Emotional and I am NOT prepared to deal with this, WHAT DO I DO?” moments later on

R/V: make love

How long do they usually last?

Z/M: hot and heavy quickies to release all the pent up energy from the constant flirting banter they keep up, then a slower second round

R/V: quick and rushed during the day, but multiple slower sessions when they can be alone

Rough or soft?

Z/M: both

R/V: both, but more often soft

Is protection used?

Yes to both pairings

Does it ever get boring?

Yes and no to both. The whole intimacy thing where you can carry on a conversation or “oh hey, I remembered what I meant to tell you earlier” starts happening and sometimes sex is more scratching an itch than the whole soulful event. Then again, there’s those times when someone moves or does something different and “okay, so I didn’t know THAT was something we liked. Let’s do that again.” (idk, I have a lot of Feelings about couples and sex, see the sexlaughterhonesty posts @thesecondseal​ has)

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Z/M: in an abandoned building Zoe used to go hang out in when she wanted to be alone as a teen

R/V: extremely late night rendezvous in Skyhold’s library. May or may not have happened in the same nook Dorian likes to frequent. Also may or may not have been 100% sure Solas was asleep downstairs.

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Z/M: no. Zoe’s afraid of becoming her mother and focusing more on her work than her child and she never wants anyone to have to experience that.

R/V: yes. It’s an option that was never available to them before, but once it’s an avenue that they can actually think about, they would love to become parents.

If so, how many children do they want/have?

Z/M: none

R/V: they wind up with five, all named after flowers

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?

Z/M: *bangs pots and pans together* TOUCH STARVED PAIRING TOUCH STARVED PAIRING TOUCH STARVED PAIRING

R/V: both. They’re both very touchy-feely by nature and always seem to gravitate towards the other when they’re doing something in the same room

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Z/M: Mason, but it’s not like Zoe’s arguing either

R/V: Roz

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?

Z/M: both

R/V: Vincent

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Z/M: for a while before an arm falls asleep and they need to move positions/one of them gets too hot

R/V: for pretty much forever, except in the summertime. They’re both walking furnaces (Vincent says Roz is like a tiny space heater) so it makes for uncomfortable hot weather snuggles

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Z/M: Hanging out together outside and enjoying the quiet/scenery, especially at night

R/V: gardening

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Z/M: in bed or on the sofa

R/V: wherever, whenever

SLEEPING.

Who snores?

Z/M: neither

R/V: Vincent, but very lightly. more of a slight rumble ever so often

If both do, who snores the loudest?

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Z/M: separately. Bed sharing = commitment and this is supposed to be no strings fun

R/V: share a bed. Skyhold’s is the largest bed they’ve ever slept in, so there’s a lot of giggling and “I have crossed oceans of bedsheets to find you” jokes at first.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

Z/M: N/A

R/V: starts cuddled together with Roz’s head on Vincent’s shoulder, but they move a lot during the night, sharing Big Spoon duties. Even if they wake up with both of them on their backs, they either have a foot touching a leg or holding hands.

What do they wear to bed?

Z/M: underwear & a t-shirt or nothing at all

R/V: dedicated PJs. Roz: nightgown/chemise or one of Vincent’s shirts, Vincent: sleep pants

Are either of them insomniacs?

Z/M: Zoe when something’s bothering her. Since Mason doesn’t technically need a lot of sleep, he doesn’t consider himself one.

R/V: Vincent, especially in the Sweethearts AU. Nightmares from his time conscripted into the Orlesian army keep him awake and afraid to sleep. 

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Z/M: no

R/V: yes, in both powdered and potion form, though Vincent rarely uses them since he hates how sluggish he feels the next day (and they rarely give him dreamless sleep anyway)

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Z/M: both

R/V: tangle of limbs

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Z/M: both, though Zoe tends to sleep with her hair in a braid most nights, so it’s not as bad as Mason’s

R/V: both, and it’s a tie as to who has the worse bed head most mornings

Who wakes up first?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Vincent. He’s an early bird up before dawn and she’s more of a later morning riser

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Z/M: breakfast is normally coffee at home with a croissant from the bakery for her, so Mason usually turns on the coffeemaker when he stays over or before he leaves in the morning

R/V: either, but usually Vincent since he’s awake before her

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Z/M: they claim they’re both knives, but Zoe is a Big Spoon who likes to wrap her leg over Mason’s hip

R/V: snuggled up with Roz’s head on Vincent’s shoulder/chest, but they wind up with Vincent curled around her (and with a mouthful of hair) or Roz doing the turtle backpack/jetpack when they do spoon.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Z/M: Zoe needs at least two alarms, but did away with one of them when Mason nearly threw her phone out of the room after it blared right in his ear.

R/V: both of them have pretty good internal alarm clocks and wake up at the same time every morning

Who has nightmares?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: both, but probably more on Vincent’s side

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

No for both

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Roz, maybe

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Vincent, purely because he’s taller

Who makes the bed?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: either, whoever winds up doing it first

What time is bed time?

Z/M: 11 to midnight, but she’s usually asleep closer to one in the morning, even without Mason showing up

R/V: either anywhere between 8 and 11 or so late it’s considered early because they’re both working and one of them manages to drag the other into bed. There is no in-between.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Z/M: usual tooth brushing, changing clothes, Zoe’s half-assed attempt at a nighttime skincare routine. Zoe usually spends some time brushing her hair out since it’s been in a ponytail during the day and brushing tends to soothe the all day pull on her scalp.

R/V: tea by the fireplace, changing clothes, putting aside work. Roz likes to braid her hair before going to bed and sometimes Vincent will ask if he can brush it and braid it for her since the act is calming for both of them

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Z/M: Zoe. Do not talk to her before her first cup of coffee.

R/V: Roz. Vincent is an automatic Ray of Sunshine first rattle out of the box and it’s a good thing she loves him as much as she does or else she may have killed him years ago.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?

Z/M: it’s a pretty equal amount

R/V: either, depending on which AU we’re talking about and who’s Inquisitor (*trips and a thousand AUs spill out of my pockets*)

Who rakes in the highest income?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: *insert “You people are getting paid?” meme here*

Are any of them unemployed?

No

Who takes the most sick days?

None of them are likely to take sick days, unless they’re truly sick, and they’re all pretty healthy people aside from one or two seasonal colds per year

What are their jobs?

Z/M: Zoe’s Wayhaven’s detective and human liaison to the Agency. Mason is with Unit Bravo

R/V: one of them is the Inquisitor and the other is a companion/former Circle mage, depending on the AU. Vincent was ranked higher than Roz as an Enchanter pre-Inquisition  

Who sucks up to their boss?

None of them

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Z/M: Zoe, but it’s rare

R/V: both are punctual 

Who stresses the most?

Z/M: both are cool as a cucumber on the outside, but internalize their stress, so who knows

R/V: Roz

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They all like their jobs!

Are they financially stable?

Z/M: yes, though Zoe really, really wishes she made enough to afford a new car

R/V: Yes.

HOME.

Who does the washing?

Z/M: the dishwasher. They take turns loading/unloading it

R/V: Roz does the washing, Vincent does the drying and putting away

Who takes out the trash?

Z/M: either

R/V: Vincent

Who does the ironing?

Z/M: Zoe, but only her clothes. Mason, but only his clothes.

R/V: Roz

Who does the cooking?

Z/M: is picking up or calling in for takeout considered “cooking”?

R/V: they like to cook together

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Z/M: “Mason, it was ONE. Fucking. Time.” Zoe set the fire alarm off while trying to be domestic and Mason won’t let her live it down.

R/V: neither, they’re both pretty decent cooks

Who is messier?

Z/M: Maybe Zoe, she’s neat but she leaves things out sometimes just to irk Mason

R/V: both are pretty neat and don’t really make messes without straightening things up

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Z/M: neither

R/V: neither

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Z/M: both, but it eventually gets picked up

R/V: both, if they’re really tired. Otherwise, there’s a hamper.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

None of them

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Z/M: neither

R/V: (Modern AU) neither, but sometimes keys are misplaced even though they have a dish on a hall table right when you walk in. 

Who answers the telephone?

Z/M: depends on who’s calling. Bobby gets an automatic ignore and deleted voicemail.

R/V: (Modern AU) they answer their own phones, but will hand the other their cell to answer if the other person is away from where it’s at.

Who mows the lawn?

Z/M: Zoe lives in an apartment with landscaping management included in the rent. Mason doesn’t know who mows the Warehouse’s lawn, but it sure isn’t him.

R/V: (Modern AU) Vincent will go over to mow Roz’s rental house lawn (and probably sneak in a few plants from the nursery he owns into her flowerbeds)  

Who does the vacuuming?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Roz

Who does the groceries?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: both

Who takes the longest to shower?

Z/M: Zoe, purely because she has thick, thick hair almost down to her waist that is a chore and a half to shampoo/condition

R/V: either, depending on who decided to sneak into the shower with the other

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: depends on the day. Shaving usually takes Vincent a longer time since he’s careful of his facial scars, but Roz has the same hair issues that Zoe has, so it’s pretty much a tie.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?

Z/M: No, but Zoe thinks that it would be nice to invest in her motorcycle or a new car

R/V: No. No matter the AU, Vincent’s technically a trust fund baby with wealthy parents willing to help out.

How many cars do they own?

Z/M: Zoe: beaten up silver hatchback that’s seen better days and is held together with spit and a mechanic’s prayer, WiP motorcycle she’s restoring. Mason: Agency SUV

R/V: two sensible, mid-priced cars, both pre-owned and paid for

What’s their song?

Z/M: Ghost - Au/Ra

R/V: Work Song - Hozier

Do they live in the city or in the country?

Z/M: they live in (Zoe)/on the outskirts of (Mason) Wayhaven

R/V: in the country, near Wycome post-Inquisition to be close to Vincent’s parents

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Z/M: Rents an apartment/lives in the Agency-owned Warehouse

R/V: (Modern AU) Vincent: rents out an apartment, Roz: rents a house

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Yes for both

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Z/M: work, hanging out with friends

R/V: work, friends, mentoring young mages

Where did they first meet?

Z/M: met when Zoe shot Adam (she was sorry about it later), but made a bad first impression on the other when Rebecca formally introduced them

R/V: Vincent was five, going on six years old when the Templars brought in a new girl his age. He was sad when he saw her crying and decided to be her friend. 

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Vincent

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Z/M: neither. Zoe would like to have nice things, but she’s not going to be a showoff with them if/when she gets them

R/V: neither

Any mental issues?

Z/M: Zoe’s abandonment feelings/anger with her mother

R/V: PTSD for both of them, Vincent’s insomnia 

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Z/M: both, since they’re both light on their feet and agile. They do check to see if the other is okay, even if they’re smirking while they do it

R/V: neither, they help the other up and ask if they’re okay, but don’t overly worry about it unless it was a bad fall or there was an underlying reason they tripped in the first place, like being exhausted.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Z/M: neither

R/V: neither, unless you count giant spiders and whatnot as bugs. Then both.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Z/M: either, though Mason is more likely to find a cup in the middle of the room with a “DO NOT OPEN” sticky note on top if it’s a big spider

R/V: either, and they usually try to scoop them up and release outside. 

Do they have any fears for their future?

Z/M: Aside from the whole immortality vs. human lifespan thing, they try not to dwell on things. The future is uncertain and it’s better to enjoy the present.

R/V: so many, but they’re in it together and can deal with whatever gets thrown at them.

Their favourite place?

Z/M: the Warehouse’s rooftop

R/V: Skyhold’s gardens

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Z/M: Mason, maybe?

R/V: Vincent

Who pays the bills?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Vincent

Who’s the tallest?

Z/M: Mason. He’s 6′0″ and Zoe’s 5′9″

R/V: Vincent. He’s 6′1″ and Roz’s 5′1″ (my favorite tol and smol, tbh)

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Roz

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Roz

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: both

What do they tease each other about?

Z/M: both of them being grumps with no filters. Mason about Zoe nearly burning her apartment down making a grilled cheese sandwich that one time. (”It wasn’t THAT bad!”)

R/V: I don’t really know! I mean, they do tease the other, but a lot of it is in-jokes and maybe Roz being a small ball of fury at times? *shrugs into the abyss*

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Z/M: neither. They tend to wear mostly the same dark colored clothing and stuff that’s not likely to stand out and get them noticed

R/V: neither. Vincent thinks Roz is beautiful in anything she wears and Roz likes the fact that Vincent’s pants are snug around his butt and his shirts emphasize his broad shoulders.

Who crushed first?

Z/M: Zoe, in that “stupid hot Agent, he makes me SO MAD...oh no, I think he’s hot. FUCK.” way.

R/V: Vincent P I N E S over Roz for Y E A R S but doesn’t do anything because she’s his best and dearest friend and telling her how he feels would risk ruining that friendship since there’s just NO WAY AT ALL she would EVER feel the same for him...

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

Z/M: none. Both will drink socially, but nothing more serious than a few drinks and a minor buzz. They both have a smoking problem, but Mason tends to cut back because of Zoe and Zoe has a rule of never smoking at work. She eventually cuts back in her off hours because of Mason, but will light up when she’s stressed or upset, mostly with things centering on Rebecca.

R/V: none

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Z/M: neither. Zoe doesn’t like to get more than a pleasant buzz where the edges are a little hazy but nothing past that

R/V: Vincent. He’s a horrible lightweight who can’t hold his liquor. Two drinks in and he’s all “WHOMST wants to see me naked???” Forget about tequila making his clothes come off, ANY booze and he’s stripping.

Who swears the most?

Z/M: both

R/V: Roz, though Vincent keeps a good internal swearing streak going every now and then.

[starspangledbanner27]

**CHAPTER UPDATE - Chapter 1 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers.  For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true.  However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions. 

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or below.

To Laura, Amber, Brittany, and Dr. Riley: Thank you so much for beta-reading my work and providing constructive feedback.  This story would not be what it is without your advice and encouragement.

To my mom: Thank you for always being there for me.  Posting my work was a big step, and I am immensely grateful for your loving support.

A/N: Readers, please note that as this story is an AU, the first two chapters will focus entirely on OCs.  That being said, if you as a reader are like me and prefer to jump straight to the parts involving canon characters, I will direct you to the middle of Chapter 3 (coming soon), in which my main OC meets Ralph at the airport.  Either way, I hope you enjoy the story and, of course, leave reviews! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Saving Mr. Banks, Mary Poppins, or any of the characters from those two movies.

Chapter 1

I am seated on a bench in the garden with a pencil held idle in my hand and my notebook lying on my lap, my eyes closed and my face turned upward to the summer sky.  A smile curves my lips as a soft breeze comes up out of the west to dance through my hair.  Somehow this all seems strangely familiar, yet I can't put my finger on why.

The breeze flutters around for half a minute, tickling my ear and stroking my hair, before leaving a parting kiss on my cheek and flying off toward the east.  But no, wait—its farewell was only a playful trick; it has now doubled back around to greet me once more . . . only this time, instead of caressing me gently, it bites my nose and pinches my ears, twirling my hair into a tangle as it careens westward.  And then, almost as soon as it returns, it is gone. 

Strange, I muse.  How odd for a steady west wind to suddenly stop like that and return from the east.  Wind's in the east . . . I can't help smiling to myself as I gaze up at the clouds, half expecting a certain British nanny to come floating down out of them carrying a carpet-bag and a parasol.  But my thoughts are interrupted by a sharp rapping noise. 

Knock-knock-knock!

I glance around, perplexed as to the source of the sound until at last I glimpse a woodpecker hammering away at a nearby tree.  I watch him with an inexplicable feeling that he doesn't belong here—that I have been here in this exact moment before, and he hasn't. 

Knock-knock-knock!

His persistent tapping disturbs me.  I wish he would stop. 

Knock-knock-knock!

“Shoo!” I cry; but he carries on with his task, unperturbed and undistracted. 

Knock-knock-knock! 

I shout at him and wave my arms wildly, but he ignores me. 

Knock-knock-knock!

The noise is exasperating.  I press my hands over my ears, but it remains as loud and clear as ever.  Why will he not cease?!  Why can I still hear it?!  Why is there no escape?!

Knock-knock-knock!

Knock-knock-knock!

Knock-knock-knock . . .

Knock-knock-knock!

I ascended out of dreamland long enough to wonder who was at the door, then promptly decided I was too tired to care.  Just as I was drifting back to sleep, my sister burst into my bedroom.  “Rise and shine, Carrie!”

“Mmph . . . what's going on?” I mumbled.

She threw the curtains open before coming over to kneel beside my bed.  “Today's the day, sis.  If you don't get up, you'll miss your plane.”

“What plane?”

“You’re going to Los Angeles, remember?”

At that moment it all came back to me—my book, Mary Poppins, Disney—and I sat up frantically, throwing the covers off.  “Oh my gosh, I forgot! What time is it?!”  I pressed my hand to my forehead, partly in panic and partly because the too-swift motion had given me a throbbing headache. 

“Shh . . . relax, Carrie.  It's only eight o'clock; you have plenty of time.  But you need to get up and get ready now.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”  I slid forward to the edge of the bed and waited, gathering my strength.  My sister watched for several minutes; and finally, when I made no move to stand up, she laid her hand on my back.

“Carrie . . . do you need help?”

“Maybe just a little,” I said without meeting her eyes.  I hated asking for help to complete such a simple task; yet at that moment I just didn't have the strength in me.  Fortunately, she understood; and without another word, she wrapped her arm around my waist and supported me as I dragged myself to my feet.  “Thank you,” I whispered. 

“What are sisters for?” she replied with a grin that somewhat alleviated my embarrassment. 

She stayed there holding me up long enough to let me find my balance.  At last I managed to take a few shaky steps over to my dresser and lean against it as I pulled open the door to my closet.  She stood there watching me for several moments, and finally she spoke again. 

“Are you okay now if I leave the room so you can get changed?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“All right.  I'll be out here if you need anything.”  Just as she was opening the door to go out, she paused and turned back to me.  “Carrie . . . are you sure you still want to do this?  Because you know in Los Angeles I won't be there to help you out of bed.”

Part of me resented her for saying that.  I'm not an invalid yet! I wanted to scream.  But deep down, I knew she was right.  I sighed deeply.  “I'll make it somehow.  I have to do this, Sam.  Otherwise I'll never get the chance.  Anyway, it's just the first few minutes of the day that are always the hardest; once I get going, it's not so bad.”

She nodded.  “Yeah, okay.  I'm going to head downstairs and make breakfast.”  But once again she paused and looked at me with soulful eyes.  “I love you, sis.”

“Love you too,” I replied, trying and failing to muster a carefree smile.  I turned away lest she see the tears in my eyes; and behind me I heard the door close as she exited, leaving me alone.  Drawing a shaky breath, I chose a dress from the closet and changed out of my nightgown, noticing with dismay that my body was going through the motions a little more slowly than yesterday or the day before. 

As I slipped my dress on over my head, I could hear the clanking of pots and pans down in the kitchen as Sam cooked.  The noise made something tickle at the edge of my mind—clanking . . . banging . . . knocking.  The woodpecker.  The dream.

That dream—it haunted me at least three times a week.  I couldn’t escape.  The sequence was always the same . . . except this time it had been interrupted by that blasted bird, which I now realized had sprung up as a dream-world manifestation of an actual sound—my sister's knocking on my door to wake me up.  I paused for a moment, considering that I ought to be thankful, for I knew what would have happened in the dream if I hadn't woken up.  Always the same, exactly as it had been on that first day . . .

No—I would not think about it, not on a day like this.  Today, of all days, I should be happy.  I am going to Los Angeles . . . the very thought sent a surge of energy through me, and I scurried off to the bathroom to finish getting ready. 

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, I descended the stairs, the smell of breakfast greeting me as I entered the main part of the house.  I stepped into the kitchen just as my sister, who was facing the sink, called out loudly, “Carrie! Are you almost ready?!”

“Hey, Sam,” I replied, amused.  She whirled around in surprise. 

“Carrie! I thought you were still upstairs!  Oh, gosh, I must have blown your ears out.”

“Well, at least they're still attached,” I bantered, but for once she didn't laugh.  Instead, she came over and wrapped her arms around me. 

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, her voice betraying that she was close to tears.  I pulled away, unable to bear it. 

“Sam, since when are you so concerned about my eardrums?” I teased. 

“I'm sorry, it's just . . . I don't want to cause you any more pain than you're already . . .”

“It’s okay, sis, nothing to worry about.”

“But—”

“Sam, please.  You promised you wouldn’t do this, remember?  I told you, I’m fine.”

She nodded, turning back to the counter to wipe her eyes.  “Well, anyway, breakfast's up.”

“Ooh, yum!” I exclaimed, eager to change the subject.  “What's on the menu this morning?”

“Bacon and pancakes,” she replied.  Her voice was still quiet and sad, but I could tell she was trying to conceal it for my sake.  “Have a seat at the table, and I'll bring it in.”

“Well, let me help.”

“It's okay, I've got this.  You go sit down.”

“Sam . . .”

“You need to focus on getting ready, Carrie,” she said firmly, looking me in the eye, and I knew better than to argue. With a sigh of resignation, I headed into the dining room. 

The first thing I noticed as I sat down was that Sam's husband, who always joined us for breakfast, was missing.  “Sam,” I called, “where's James?”

“Oh, I sent him outside to check on the car,” she explained, bustling into the room with a plate of steaming pancakes and bacon. 

“What's wrong with the car?” I asked as she set the plate down in front of me. 

“Nothing, as far as I know,” she replied, “but we can't have you being late to the airport because of car trouble.”

I stared at her.  “It's a twenty-minute drive to the airport, and your car is in perfect condition.  What's there to worry about?”

“I'm not taking any chances, Carrie.  This is your special day, and I won't let anything ruin it.”   With that, she marched off to the kitchen, chin held high.  Once she left the room, I chuckled to myself and said a quick blessing before beginning to eat. 

Just then, I heard the front door open.  “Hey, honey, I'm all done!” James called as he shut the door behind him.  From where I sat looking through the doorway, I could see him enter the kitchen and lean against the wall, inhaling deeply.  “Mmm, what's for breakfast?”

“Pancakes and bacon,” she replied.  “How's the car looking?”

“Clean and healthy as always, just like I told you it would be,” he reassured her. 

“The tank is full?”

“Yep.”

“You changed the oil?”

“Already did that yesterday.”

“And you checked everything else?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”  He moved to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.  “Sweet Samantha, haven't you learned by now to trust your husband?”

She turned to face him.  “A better question is, haven't you learned by now to humor your wife?”

He laughed.  “Touché.”  They stood there grinning at each other for several moments before he leaned in to kiss her, at which point I decided to remind them of my presence.  

“A-he-hem!”  I peered through the doorway at them.  “Guys, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to be at the airport in an hour.”

They pulled apart and looked over at me sheepishly.  “Sorry, sis,” Sam giggled. 

I sighed and shook my head in mock exasperation; but truly, I was happy for them.  They had something special, something I had always dreamt of . . . and something fate had chosen to deny me.  I felt a little twinge of bitterness at the last thought, but I quickly suppressed it.  It’s not their fault, I reminded myself.  It’s not anyone’s fault.

Before I could dwell any longer on this train of thought, James entered the dining room with a full plate for himself and one for Sam.  “So, Carrie, are you excited to spend three weeks in Los Angeles?” he asked as he set them on the table. 

“Excited?  Yes . . .” 

Detecting my slight hesitation, James caught my eye and smiled understandingly.  “Nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted. 

Sam walked through the doorway just in time to catch the end of our conversation.  “What are you nervous about, Carrie?” she asked, laying her hand on my shoulder.

I took a moment to swallow my bite of bacon before answering.  “Well, meeting Walt Disney, for one thing.  That man’s a walking legend, and I’m just . . . me.”  A thirty-year-old author from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, flying halfway across the country to act as consultant for a movie adaptation of my book.

“So?” James asked through a mouthful of pancake. 

Sam shot him one of her “you men can be so insensitive” looks before turning back to me. “Oh, Carrie, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about as far as that goes.  Remember, underneath all that fame, he's just another human.  Don't let yourself be intimidated.”

I gave a half-smile, and she patted my back encouragingly before sitting down to eat.  Easier said than done, I thought in regard to her advice.  I only prayed everything would go smoothly; for if it didn’t, I doubted I’d have what it took to face down the Mickey Mouse mogul himself.  

The three of us finished breakfast with time to spare; and while Sam cleared the table, James headed upstairs and brought down my suitcase and carry-on bag to load in the car.  I offered to help with the dishes, but Sam wouldn't hear of it; so instead I went up to fetch my purse and make one last trip to the bathroom.

After washing my hands, I leaned against the sink for a few minutes, staring into the mirror. There I was, about to spend three weeks in Los Angeles helping make my book into a movie, something many authors only dream of; and at that moment, the only thought in my head was—am I up to this?  The Carrie in the mirror stared back at me, her eyes full of doubts and questions; but before I could give either of us a definitive answer, I heard Sam call from the bottom of the stairs.  “Carrie! You ready to go?!”

Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight and squared my shoulders.  “Coming!” I replied; and without further hesitation, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

Tag list… let me know if you want to be added or removed!   @iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

[tomhollandwritings]

fed up ~ t.h.

synopsis: the reader is expecting her boyfriend tom to show up during an extremely important night for her, yet he fails. 

based off of the request: Hi! Can you do an imagine were the reader is dating Tom. And she has this very important event and wants Tom there, but he couldn't make it (idk maybe he was busy with the movies or something like that), and she gets sad because she wanted to see him (they haven't see each other personally in a while bc the reader goes to university). And Tom tries to apologize doing something cute and the end is like very fluffy? Btw, sorry this is so long and I tried to explained the best I could. Thanks.❤️

Requested by @marifer-ea

a/n: I feel like shit about this. It took me like 3 hours to write and it’s still TRASH! So i hope you like trash <3 (seriously though i hope you guys like it even tho i don’t feel too good about it)

masterlist

Standing on the stage, you squinted against the bright lights hindering your sight into the audience and adjusted your red blazer with clammy hands. Today was finally the day of your debate team’s finals, and to say you were nervous would be the understatement of the year. You attempted once again to scan the bustling crowd as people made their way into your university’s auditorium, keeping an eye out for the only familiar face that you wanted to be there, your boyfriend Tom Holland.

Since landing such an important Marvel role, Tom had been a bit busier than usual and you hadn’t seen him in a long time. To be fair, you were in your freshman year of university and you were fairly busy as well, but you were beginning to feel fed up that Tom didn’t seem to be quite as committed to making time for you as you were for him. You loved him deeply but you were disappointed in the lack of contact between the two of you.

After about 5 minutes, everyone seemed to be settled into their seats and it was time for you and the rest of your team to take your seats as well. Continuing to scan the crowd, a deep feeling of disappointment flooded your system as you couldn’t spot Tom anywhere.

An hour later, you and the rest of your team ran excitedly off the stage, holding the first place trophy in tight grips. You looked around joyfully at your teammates, watching as the team you had just defeated trudged by you with disappointed looks on their faces. You turned back to your team and peeled off your blazer. Everyone was chattering excitedly and you almost completely forgot about Tom. Almost.

As you walked to your car, an intense feeling of sadness washed over you as it hit you how long it had actually been since you had seen him. You slid into the driver’s seat as tears stung in your eyes and threatened to fall. You rested your head on the steering wheel and took a deep breath, trying not to allow yourself to cry. You should be feeling happy, but this was important to you and Tom had bailed with no notice after swearing up and down that he would be there tonight. You were counting on him and needed his support, and he had let you down for the last time.

You drove home in silence, trying to let the cool wind coming in from your open windows calm you down. You wondered if you should call him and tell him how you felt, but you didn’t want to start a fight. For the entire length of your relationship with Tom you had never argued with him or tried to keep him away from his work. You had always respected the things he needed to do and tried to accommodate to keep your relationship strong.

You walked into your small apartment building and up the two flights of stairs as your phone began to buzz in your pocket. You pulled it out and, lo and behold, it was Tom. You sighed wearily and slid to answer the call, holding it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Tom said quickly. Rolling your eyes, you stepped into your apartment.

“Tom-“

“Please. You don’t understand-“

“No, Tom, I do understand. You blew me off, yet again, on one of the important nights of my year. It’s like you don't care at all! But I shouldn't have expected you to show up.”

“Y/N, don't say that. You know it isn't true.”

“Actually, I don’t know anymore Tom.”

“What? Y/N-“

Angrily, you hung up the phone, kicking your shoes off in the process. You put your phone down on your kitchen counter in order to not have to endure any other calls and texts from Tom.

After getting ready for bed quickly, you continued to ignore your phone and lock your door before climbing into your bed to finally go to sleep.

The next day, you awoke to what sounded like pots and pans banging together. You sat up in bed abruptly, your heart race quickening. Did someone break in? You got up slowly from your bed, grabbing a lamp from your bedside table in a panic. Creeping forwards, you slowly opened your bedroom door and listened for more noises. You could hear faint music and someone humming along, leaving you even more confused. You gripped the lamp even hard and began making your way slowly to the kitchen.

Hopping around the corner and holding out the lamp, you screamed in hopes of startling the intruder. You dropped the lamp on the ground and barely heard the lightbulb smash as you stared at Tom standing in front of you in surprise. Fuck. He has a key. There was 6 different dirty pots and pans in the sink, and you made a confused face as you didn't even own more than 2 pans. Tom had made more food than you had ever seen in your entire life, and there was a vase full of sunflowers sitting on the middle of your small kitchen table. He had one of those silly aprons on with a woman’s body in a bikini on it, and you raised your eyebrows.

“I brought… I got sunflowers. And I made you breakfast. Well, lunch. It’s already 1:00. I- you didn't answer my calls. So I got scared. But you shouldn't have answered! I fucked up, so… I just… I’m sorry, Y/N.” Tom stumbled over almost every word, watching you nervously and shuffling his feet.

“Sunflowers are-“

“Your favourite. I know. I remember.” He said apologetically. You watched him as he walked slowly towards you and took both of your hands in his. “I hope you know how sorry I am. I am never going to let you down again. Ever.”

“Tom…”

“Your friend told me you guys won. Congratulations.”

“Thank you…”

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You laughed. “No I don’t. I literally just woke up. Because I thought someone had broken into my house!” “I’m sorry! I assumed you would have known it was me.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “And… I forgive you. For last night.”

Tom looked up at you in surprise. “You do?!”

“Yes.” You nodded as he squeezed your hands. “Can we eat now though? This smells amazing and I’m starving.”

Tom laughed, bringing your hands up to his mouth and pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles. “I love you.” he murmured against your skin.

“I love you too,” you smiled.

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

May i have a Nalu, “wtf you’re not my roommate, how did you get in here? oh sHIT you’re really drunk aND NOW YOU’RE CRYING OKay okay it’s okay shhhh, you can stay here i guess??” au. Thanks and have a nice day ^_^

bless you people for having the patience of the gods to deal with me and my slow updates.

I am currently dead inside from having to deal with finals and whatevs but thank god for fanfics to keep me going.

Thanks for the request and whoever you are anon, please enjoy!

Never again.

Never. Fucking. Again.

When next Natsu sees Loke-that stupid pretty bastard-he’s gonna break his nose and strangle him with that furry coat of his.

Natsu knew he shouldn’t have agreed to the party, even in his slightly buzzed thoughts when Loke suggested it, something banged pots and pans screaming at him “NO”, but of course he didn’t listen to the crazy little voice in his head the one time it was saying something smart.

A slice of pain shot through Natsu’s head as his eyes slid open. God he was hungover, in the literal sense and like that movie trilogy with those guys because for one, he couldn’t remember shit from last night.

Two, as he sat up, cracking his back with a satisfied grunt, the place was trashed mercilessly. Like there was cake on the ceiling (who does that? He’s done weird stuff but even then, standards) and something suspiciously like vomit on a spot a few feet from him. Also he was surrounded by empty bottles of Red Stripe.

At least he found his answer to the headache.

And third, like Doug from the first Hangover movie, Loke’s ass was nowhere to be seen. He’d have to check on the roof later to make sure last night really didn’t follow the plot of that movie.

But after his post hangover breakfast. Loke can wait when a cheese omelette and toast is calling.

The journey to the kitchen was longer and harder than he ever imagined, everything was a crutch, holding Natsu up as he hobbled to his goal of a healing meal.

He clutched his chest half way there to catch some breath. His shirt was gone, lost to the events of last night. As was his shoes. And his pants. Natsu was practically naked and he still couldn’t remember a damn thing.

God he hoped none of this made it on the internet.

“OOOOoooooOOOOOoooooooooo”

What the hell was that.

“oooOOOoooOOOOoooooOOOOOOoooooooo………………”

Well either the old fridge was acting up again and decided to start screaming in the early afternoon or someone was here with him, and it didn’t sound like Loke.

Natsu knew what a hungover Loke sounded like and he never sounded this alert.  Well at least whatever it was is in the kitchen. Saves him some energy.

Sparkly red pumps attacked Natsu’s weak eyes, abandoned on the dirty tiles next to bare feet. Bare feet belonging to the woman with her head currently in the sink, groaning and maybe close to throwing up.

“Uh……..” Her head flew up, damp blonde hair sticking in clumps to her forehead. Well it looks like someone thought drowning herself was a good way to get rid of a hangover.

“You’re not Cana.” She said, voice raspy with sleep and alcohol.

“Nope. And you’re not Loke are you?”

“Oh thank god no.”Her raspy voice devolved into a fit of giggles. Cute hiccupy giggles. They sounded a little bit like alcohol.

“So i’m guessing this isn’t my apartment either.”

“Bingo.” “Cana isn’t here?” Mystery girl brushed wet hair from her eyes, propping herself up on the counter.

“I haven’t found anyone else yet so i’m guessing no.”

Natsu shouldn’t have said that. He should not have said that. If he were sober he wouldn’t have said that.

Small tears leaked from her eyes making them even redder and puffier. “You mean she left me? Cana went home without me……?” she choked up a sob and he realizes that maybe she’s a bit drunker than he probably thought.

“No wait! I just woke up!” Natsu exclaimed, trying to ease her distress.He shuffled a bit closer. “I haven’t searched the rest of the apartment, your friend might still be in here! We can go look!”

She hiccuped and let out another sob that had his semi-drunk self feeling so helpless and lost that even a few tears started to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

But Natsu held those back. Two people crying usually ended up in a never ending loop of tears. That happened once with Gajeel and he wasn’t gonna go through that again.

“You wanna maybe sit down?” Natsu suggested, “I think I got some orange juice left, you could have that and just take a breather to calm down or if you want I can get you something else to drink.”

She took a heavy breath through her nose to even out her breathing from crying.It took a few more but the tears stopped and Natsu couldn’t help a tiny sigh of relief.

“You ok now?” He asked cautiously.

“Yeah…..sorry about that, I just got a little…..overwhelmed.”

Natsu nodded. “You the emotional drunk?” “Yeah. You?”

“Calm and dead. Not a lot of stuff phases me.”

She gave a slightly sober chuckle. “Looks like we balance each other out. Must be a drunken twist of fate.”

Sh held out her hand and he grasped it with a weak shake. “I’m Lucy and well, sorry about the crying and for being in your place like this.”

He grinned. “No problem, you’re not the first hungover person i’ve dealt with. Had to knock out the first guy though. You want breakfast before we look for your friend?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” “It ain’t, plus you can tell me about last night ‘cause i can’t remember jack shit. You like cheese omelettes?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Oh god.

That’s not what she think it is written on his chest in her handwriting, in her bright blue lipstick that she got herself on valentines.

“Hey is there something on me? You keep staring.” Natsu eyed her curiously as he shoveled the last of his meal in his mouth.

Yeah…NO! No, no no,no. You’re fine! Everything’s just fine!” Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down

“Really? ‘Cause with how you were looking at me you’d think that there was something…….Did someone draw a dick on me?”

His gaze lowered to roam over his naked chest. He looked.

And no doubt he could read the word ‘MINE’ boldly written on him and see the smeared lipstick mark a little bit further down, close to inappropriateness.

“No way….” His eyes shot back up to meet Lucy’s and, dear lord, she must’ve had some still on her lips because his face twisted into something sinister.

“Did you do this?” He asked playfully,cackling at her reddened features.

“We were both really drunk and nothing happened!”

“You sure? Because this looks a bit out -” “Yes I’m sure! Just, stop talking! Our drunk selves are different people who we don’t know and must never speak of!”

Alright, alright.” The argument was dropped but that evil smirk was still plastered on his face. He motioned for her to hand over her empty plate and glass as he moved to the sink.

Water gushed from the faucet as Natsu cleaned up, and of course he just had to close off the issue properly.

“Just for the record Lucy,” he called, “You should probably take someone out to dinner first before calling dibs on them.”

She buried her face in her hands. No way in hell was she gonna tell him about the ‘JUICY’ cheekily peering at her, partially hidden by the band of his boxers.

[ruthellisneda]

Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”??

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know I recently went on an intense four day backpacking trip in the Adirondack mountains, and that I am neither into cardio/endurance sports, nor an outdoorsy kind of person… so this was extremely far outside my comfort zone.

The trip was a success, despite plenty of adversity, which began the first night when a bear invaded our campsite.

Yep. A fucking bear.

After a tough seven mile hike the first day, we had gotten into camp a little later than expected, and quickly began setting up and making dinner. Just after we’d eaten, and only a few minutes after darkness had just settled, my brother went to grab something out of the bear canister.

For those of you who don’t know what a “bear canister” is, it’s the “bearproof” container you have to keep all of your food in when hiking in the Adirondacks. The thing is, it’s only bearproof when it’s locked, and ours had accidentally been left open and unattended for a few minutes. Whoops.

So anyway, it was dark, and my brother Jason went to grab something from the bear canister when he realized a huge ass black bear was gleefully pulling out all of our carefully packaged and dehydrated food and eating it.

Here’s the part I find interesting: since I was about 20 feet away at the time and didn’t see it all go down: Jason, who is a seasoned camper and backpacker, made a very weirdsound. It was kind of like a muffled, high pitch whine. It start out pretty weak, and then got a bit louder, like an incoherent “….ehheehhhhehEEEHHHH…”

When he came down to where my mom and I were sitting, his hands were oddly stuck up in the air, he had a weird smile on his face, and he said in a tight sing-songy voice:

“So… there’s a bear…?”

We didn’t believe him at first, because he was kind of smiling and because Jason is always joking around. Eventually it landed, and we ran to watch helplessly as the bear munched his way through half our trip’s worth of food.

The next few hours were spent screaming and banging pots and pans and throwing things at the bear while we scrambled to move all foodstuffs far away from camp. Pepper spray got deployed (covering all our stuff and skin and lungs), we thought we might have to abandon the whole trip, and we went to sleep still able to see the bear’s glinting eyes nearby.

But I’m not here to talk about bear safety. (Pro tip though: Don’t leave food unattended after dark in the Adirondacks.)

I’m here to talk about the way my brother, who had never encountered a bear before, acted completely fucking WEIRD.

My favorite part of the bear story is now the part where I do an impression of the whiney noises my brother made when he first saw the bear. I’ve never in twenty six years seen him behave that way, and in retrospect it was fucking hilarious.

My mom’s husband, a boy scout leader and bear safety enthusiast, was baffled by this behavior. He was like… WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST YELL “BEAR!”??

But Jason couldn’t yell “bear.”

He was a few feet away from a bear for the first time, he froze, and he started wracking his brain to remember the “rules” for this kind of bear situation. (There are different rules for different kinds of bears; some you’re supposed to hold perfectly still, and others you’re supposed to get big and make a lot of noise.)

Once he decided to make noise, he had to overcome the physiological freeze response, and still wasn’t thinking clearly or confidently. So instead of shouting “THERE’S A BEAR IN CAMP!” he just made those strange whining noises. That said, I guarantee you that having discussed and practiced yelling “bear!” over the next few days– if Jason ever encounters a black bear again he will respond quickly, confidently, and appropriately.

This story struck me as a fascinating analogy (given the current political climate) to what a lot of women experience regarding sexual harassment, assault, and rape.

When a woman is faced with sudden and unexpected danger, she freezes. She racks her brain to figure out what kind of “bear” she’s dealing with, and which rules apply.

Is this a bear who would be scared off if she screamed “no,” or would he try to kill her? Is this a bear who would ruin her career if she pisses him off? If it safer to play dead? To make an excuse and flee? To pretend you’re into it and get it over with quickly?

We make the best decision we can during (and after) harassment and assault, but often our stories come off as… strange.

When another trainer grabbed my ass in the gym once, I laughed. Hours later I was so bothered by my own behavior. Why did I laugh? Why didn’t I tell that creep off, and make a scene?

These moments of strangeness often make us feel too ashamed and embarrassed to report, because we know people will hear our story and ask us “why didn’t you just do such-and-such?”

And we won’t have an answer.

But survival mode makes us do strange things. It overrides logic, and locks up our voices, and plasters frozen smiles on our faces.

We must make room for people to tell their stories of feeling threatened without questioning their behavior. We must recognize that being afraid makes us do strange things, act in ways that are out of character, and make decisions that seem objectively poor from the outside.

Just because we didn’t scream “NO, GET OFF ME!” and immediately report it doesn’t mean we were complicit, lying, or wrong about what we experienced. It just means we were scared, frozen, surprised, and reduced to a gut-level survival mode.

We need the world to recognize what fear does to a person’s brain, and what trauma does to a person’s brain (including totally fucking with their memory in ways that are unfathomable to someone who hasn’t experienced it).

But I won’t hold my breath. Our culture isn’t changing fast enough, and in a world full of bears, women need to learn how to protect themselves.

Think about how many women take self-defense and krav maga classes in order to learn and practice responding to an attack. This has become a common response to living in fear, and an appropriate one.

But it’s also a bit misguided.

After all, the mass majority of sexual harassment and violence is done by someone we know, like, and trust, under non-violent circumstances. Shouldn’t we learn and practice responding to the actual dangers that most (if not all) women will face at some point?

How are we supposed to speak up when we’ve spent a lifetime avoiding conflict and not hurting anyone’s feelings? How are we expected to find our voices when our bodies are frozen? Just like in self-defense classes, we need to have practiced if we expect to stand up for ourselves when the time comes.

And rest assured, the time will come.

Whether it’s speaking up when a co-worker makes an inappropriate sexual comment, or knowing what to do when someone gropes you on the subway, self-assertiveness under pressure is a learnable skill, and it baffles me that it’s not a required part of female education.

We need to have practiced the skills of asserting our boundaries in a safe environment, multiple times, and loudly, just like some women practice responding to attack with a knee to the groin and a palm to the nose. We need these skills to be so well-practiced and in our bones, that when we are afraid, uncomfortable, drunk, or surprised, we can still assert our boundaries with clarity and power.

So let’s start practicing.

Seriously. Grab a partner or a few friends, and role play asserting your boundaries in every scenario you can think of. Speak loudly, clearly, and confidently. Reflect your boundaries in your body language. Make bold eye contact. Say it without smiling. Notice how uncomfortable that is, and then do it again.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Here are a few phrases to try practicing:

Leave me alone.

This is sexual harassment, and you need to stop.

I don’t like this.

I want to stop.

I changed my mind.

STOP.

NO.

That’s inappropriate.

That’s not funny to me.

You’re making me uncomfortable.

I’m not interested.

Challenge each other to deal with classic responses from “lighten up, I’m just joking,” to “come on, you know you want it.” Do it until it feels easy, and start practicing every chance you get in everyday life.

We can’t “out-logic” the weirdness of the freeze response. But we can sure as hell prepare for it and minimize it with practice. So let’s do that.

And if you’ve ever acted like a complete weirdo when afraid or surprised, and felt ashamed or embarrassed by your own behavior, please let my brother’s story be the beginning of self-compassion and forgiveness.

It’s not your fault, and your behavior doesn’t make your story less valid.

<3 Jessi

The post Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”?? appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

https://ift.tt/2OLWz1m

[almajonesnjna]

Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”??

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know I recently went on an intense four day backpacking trip in the Adirondack mountains, and that I am neither into cardio/endurance sports, nor an outdoorsy kind of person… so this was extremely far outside my comfort zone.

The trip was a success, despite plenty of adversity, which began the first night when a bear invaded our campsite.

Yep. A fucking bear.

After a tough seven mile hike the first day, we had gotten into camp a little later than expected, and quickly began setting up and making dinner. Just after we’d eaten, and only a few minutes after darkness had just settled, my brother went to grab something out of the bear canister.

For those of you who don’t know what a “bear canister” is, it’s the “bearproof” container you have to keep all of your food in when hiking in the Adirondacks. The thing is, it’s only bearproof when it’s locked, and ours had accidentally been left open and unattended for a few minutes. Whoops.

So anyway, it was dark, and my brother Jason went to grab something from the bear canister when he realized a huge ass black bear was gleefully pulling out all of our carefully packaged and dehydrated food and eating it.

Here’s the part I find interesting: since I was about 20 feet away at the time and didn’t see it all go down: Jason, who is a seasoned camper and backpacker, made a very weirdsound. It was kind of like a muffled, high pitch whine. It start out pretty weak, and then got a bit louder, like an incoherent “….ehheehhhhehEEEHHHH…”

When he came down to where my mom and I were sitting, his hands were oddly stuck up in the air, he had a weird smile on his face, and he said in a tight sing-songy voice:

“So… there’s a bear…?”

We didn’t believe him at first, because he was kind of smiling and because Jason is always joking around. Eventually it landed, and we ran to watch helplessly as the bear munched his way through half our trip’s worth of food.

The next few hours were spent screaming and banging pots and pans and throwing things at the bear while we scrambled to move all foodstuffs far away from camp. Pepper spray got deployed (covering all our stuff and skin and lungs), we thought we might have to abandon the whole trip, and we went to sleep still able to see the bear’s glinting eyes nearby.

But I’m not here to talk about bear safety. (Pro tip though: Don’t leave food unattended after dark in the Adirondacks.)

I’m here to talk about the way my brother, who had never encountered a bear before, acted completely fucking WEIRD.

My favorite part of the bear story is now the part where I do an impression of the whiney noises my brother made when he first saw the bear. I’ve never in twenty six years seen him behave that way, and in retrospect it was fucking hilarious.

My mom’s husband, a boy scout leader and bear safety enthusiast, was baffled by this behavior. He was like… WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST YELL “BEAR!”??

But Jason couldn’t yell “bear.”

He was a few feet away from a bear for the first time, he froze, and he started wracking his brain to remember the “rules” for this kind of bear situation. (There are different rules for different kinds of bears; some you’re supposed to hold perfectly still, and others you’re supposed to get big and make a lot of noise.)

Once he decided to make noise, he had to overcome the physiological freeze response, and still wasn’t thinking clearly or confidently. So instead of shouting “THERE’S A BEAR IN CAMP!” he just made those strange whining noises. That said, I guarantee you that having discussed and practiced yelling “bear!” over the next few days– if Jason ever encounters a black bear again he will respond quickly, confidently, and appropriately.

This story struck me as a fascinating analogy (given the current political climate) to what a lot of women experience regarding sexual harassment, assault, and rape.

When a woman is faced with sudden and unexpected danger, she freezes. She racks her brain to figure out what kind of “bear” she’s dealing with, and which rules apply.

Is this a bear who would be scared off if she screamed “no,” or would he try to kill her? Is this a bear who would ruin her career if she pisses him off? If it safer to play dead? To make an excuse and flee? To pretend you’re into it and get it over with quickly?

We make the best decision we can during (and after) harassment and assault, but often our stories come off as… strange.

When another trainer grabbed my ass in the gym once, I laughed. Hours later I was so bothered by my own behavior. Why did I laugh? Why didn’t I tell that creep off, and make a scene?

These moments of strangeness often make us feel too ashamed and embarrassed to report, because we know people will hear our story and ask us “why didn’t you just do such-and-such?”

And we won’t have an answer.

But survival mode makes us do strange things. It overrides logic, and locks up our voices, and plasters frozen smiles on our faces.

We must make room for people to tell their stories of feeling threatened without questioning their behavior. We must recognize that being afraid makes us do strange things, act in ways that are out of character, and make decisions that seem objectively poor from the outside.

Just because we didn’t scream “NO, GET OFF ME!” and immediately report it doesn’t mean we were complicit, lying, or wrong about what we experienced. It just means we were scared, frozen, surprised, and reduced to a gut-level survival mode.

We need the world to recognize what fear does to a person’s brain, and what trauma does to a person’s brain (including totally fucking with their memory in ways that are unfathomable to someone who hasn’t experienced it).

But I won’t hold my breath. Our culture isn’t changing fast enough, and in a world full of bears, women need to learn how to protect themselves.

Think about how many women take self-defense and krav maga classes in order to learn and practice responding to an attack. This has become a common response to living in fear, and an appropriate one.

But it’s also a bit misguided.

After all, the mass majority of sexual harassment and violence is done by someone we know, like, and trust, under non-violent circumstances. Shouldn’t we learn and practice responding to the actual dangers that most (if not all) women will face at some point?

How are we supposed to speak up when we’ve spent a lifetime avoiding conflict and not hurting anyone’s feelings? How are we expected to find our voices when our bodies are frozen? Just like in self-defense classes, we need to have practiced if we expect to stand up for ourselves when the time comes.

And rest assured, the time will come.

Whether it’s speaking up when a co-worker makes an inappropriate sexual comment, or knowing what to do when someone gropes you on the subway, self-assertiveness under pressure is a learnable skill, and it baffles me that it’s not a required part of female education.

We need to have practiced the skills of asserting our boundaries in a safe environment, multiple times, and loudly, just like some women practice responding to attack with a knee to the groin and a palm to the nose. We need these skills to be so well-practiced and in our bones, that when we are afraid, uncomfortable, drunk, or surprised, we can still assert our boundaries with clarity and power.

So let’s start practicing.

Seriously. Grab a partner or a few friends, and role play asserting your boundaries in every scenario you can think of. Speak loudly, clearly, and confidently. Reflect your boundaries in your body language. Make bold eye contact. Say it without smiling. Notice how uncomfortable that is, and then do it again.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Here are a few phrases to try practicing:

Leave me alone.

This is sexual harassment, and you need to stop.

I don’t like this.

I want to stop.

I changed my mind.

STOP.

NO.

That’s inappropriate.

That’s not funny to me.

You’re making me uncomfortable.

I’m not interested.

Challenge each other to deal with classic responses from “lighten up, I’m just joking,” to “come on, you know you want it.” Do it until it feels easy, and start practicing every chance you get in everyday life.

We can’t “out-logic” the weirdness of the freeze response. But we can sure as hell prepare for it and minimize it with practice. So let’s do that.

And if you’ve ever acted like a complete weirdo when afraid or surprised, and felt ashamed or embarrassed by your own behavior, please let my brother’s story be the beginning of self-compassion and forgiveness.

It’s not your fault, and your behavior doesn’t make your story less valid.

<3 Jessi

The post Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”?? appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

https://ift.tt/2OLWz1m

[neilmillerne]

Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”??

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know I recently went on an intense four day backpacking trip in the Adirondack mountains, and that I am neither into cardio/endurance sports, nor an outdoorsy kind of person… so this was extremely far outside my comfort zone.

The trip was a success, despite plenty of adversity, which began the first night when a bear invaded our campsite.

Yep. A fucking bear.

After a tough seven mile hike the first day, we had gotten into camp a little later than expected, and quickly began setting up and making dinner. Just after we’d eaten, and only a few minutes after darkness had just settled, my brother went to grab something out of the bear canister.

For those of you who don’t know what a “bear canister” is, it’s the “bearproof” container you have to keep all of your food in when hiking in the Adirondacks. The thing is, it’s only bearproof when it’s locked, and ours had accidentally been left open and unattended for a few minutes. Whoops.

So anyway, it was dark, and my brother Jason went to grab something from the bear canister when he realized a huge ass black bear was gleefully pulling out all of our carefully packaged and dehydrated food and eating it.

Here’s the part I find interesting: since I was about 20 feet away at the time and didn’t see it all go down: Jason, who is a seasoned camper and backpacker, made a very weirdsound. It was kind of like a muffled, high pitch whine. It start out pretty weak, and then got a bit louder, like an incoherent “….ehheehhhhehEEEHHHH…”

When he came down to where my mom and I were sitting, his hands were oddly stuck up in the air, he had a weird smile on his face, and he said in a tight sing-songy voice:

“So… there’s a bear…?”

We didn’t believe him at first, because he was kind of smiling and because Jason is always joking around. Eventually it landed, and we ran to watch helplessly as the bear munched his way through half our trip’s worth of food.

The next few hours were spent screaming and banging pots and pans and throwing things at the bear while we scrambled to move all foodstuffs far away from camp. Pepper spray got deployed (covering all our stuff and skin and lungs), we thought we might have to abandon the whole trip, and we went to sleep still able to see the bear’s glinting eyes nearby.

But I’m not here to talk about bear safety. (Pro tip though: Don’t leave food unattended after dark in the Adirondacks.)

I’m here to talk about the way my brother, who had never encountered a bear before, acted completely fucking WEIRD.

My favorite part of the bear story is now the part where I do an impression of the whiney noises my brother made when he first saw the bear. I’ve never in twenty six years seen him behave that way, and in retrospect it was fucking hilarious.

My mom’s husband, a boy scout leader and bear safety enthusiast, was baffled by this behavior. He was like… WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST YELL “BEAR!”??

But Jason couldn’t yell “bear.”

He was a few feet away from a bear for the first time, he froze, and he started wracking his brain to remember the “rules” for this kind of bear situation. (There are different rules for different kinds of bears; some you’re supposed to hold perfectly still, and others you’re supposed to get big and make a lot of noise.)

Once he decided to make noise, he had to overcome the physiological freeze response, and still wasn’t thinking clearly or confidently. So instead of shouting “THERE’S A BEAR IN CAMP!” he just made those strange whining noises. That said, I guarantee you that having discussed and practiced yelling “bear!” over the next few days– if Jason ever encounters a black bear again he will respond quickly, confidently, and appropriately.

This story struck me as a fascinating analogy (given the current political climate) to what a lot of women experience regarding sexual harassment, assault, and rape.

When a woman is faced with sudden and unexpected danger, she freezes. She racks her brain to figure out what kind of “bear” she’s dealing with, and which rules apply.

Is this a bear who would be scared off if she screamed “no,” or would he try to kill her? Is this a bear who would ruin her career if she pisses him off? If it safer to play dead? To make an excuse and flee? To pretend you’re into it and get it over with quickly?

We make the best decision we can during (and after) harassment and assault, but often our stories come off as… strange.

When another trainer grabbed my ass in the gym once, I laughed. Hours later I was so bothered by my own behavior. Why did I laugh? Why didn’t I tell that creep off, and make a scene?

These moments of strangeness often make us feel too ashamed and embarrassed to report, because we know people will hear our story and ask us “why didn’t you just do such-and-such?”

And we won’t have an answer.

But survival mode makes us do strange things. It overrides logic, and locks up our voices, and plasters frozen smiles on our faces.

We must make room for people to tell their stories of feeling threatened without questioning their behavior. We must recognize that being afraid makes us do strange things, act in ways that are out of character, and make decisions that seem objectively poor from the outside.

Just because we didn’t scream “NO, GET OFF ME!” and immediately report it doesn’t mean we were complicit, lying, or wrong about what we experienced. It just means we were scared, frozen, surprised, and reduced to a gut-level survival mode.

We need the world to recognize what fear does to a person’s brain, and what trauma does to a person’s brain (including totally fucking with their memory in ways that are unfathomable to someone who hasn’t experienced it).

But I won’t hold my breath. Our culture isn’t changing fast enough, and in a world full of bears, women need to learn how to protect themselves.

Think about how many women take self-defense and krav maga classes in order to learn and practice responding to an attack. This has become a common response to living in fear, and an appropriate one.

But it’s also a bit misguided.

After all, the mass majority of sexual harassment and violence is done by someone we know, like, and trust, under non-violent circumstances. Shouldn’t we learn and practice responding to the actual dangers that most (if not all) women will face at some point?

How are we supposed to speak up when we’ve spent a lifetime avoiding conflict and not hurting anyone’s feelings? How are we expected to find our voices when our bodies are frozen? Just like in self-defense classes, we need to have practiced if we expect to stand up for ourselves when the time comes.

And rest assured, the time will come.

Whether it’s speaking up when a co-worker makes an inappropriate sexual comment, or knowing what to do when someone gropes you on the subway, self-assertiveness under pressure is a learnable skill, and it baffles me that it’s not a required part of female education.

We need to have practiced the skills of asserting our boundaries in a safe environment, multiple times, and loudly, just like some women practice responding to attack with a knee to the groin and a palm to the nose. We need these skills to be so well-practiced and in our bones, that when we are afraid, uncomfortable, drunk, or surprised, we can still assert our boundaries with clarity and power.

So let’s start practicing.

Seriously. Grab a partner or a few friends, and role play asserting your boundaries in every scenario you can think of. Speak loudly, clearly, and confidently. Reflect your boundaries in your body language. Make bold eye contact. Say it without smiling. Notice how uncomfortable that is, and then do it again.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Here are a few phrases to try practicing:

Leave me alone.

This is sexual harassment, and you need to stop.

I don’t like this.

I want to stop.

I changed my mind.

STOP.

NO.

That’s inappropriate.

That’s not funny to me.

You’re making me uncomfortable.

I’m not interested.

Challenge each other to deal with classic responses from “lighten up, I’m just joking,” to “come on, you know you want it.” Do it until it feels easy, and start practicing every chance you get in everyday life.

We can’t “out-logic” the weirdness of the freeze response. But we can sure as hell prepare for it and minimize it with practice. So let’s do that.

And if you’ve ever acted like a complete weirdo when afraid or surprised, and felt ashamed or embarrassed by your own behavior, please let my brother’s story be the beginning of self-compassion and forgiveness.

It’s not your fault, and your behavior doesn’t make your story less valid.

<3 Jessi

The post Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”?? appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

https://ift.tt/2OLWz1m

[albertcaldwellne]

Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”??

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know I recently went on an intense four day backpacking trip in the Adirondack mountains, and that I am neither into cardio/endurance sports, nor an outdoorsy kind of person… so this was extremely far outside my comfort zone.

The trip was a success, despite plenty of adversity, which began the first night when a bear invaded our campsite.

Yep. A fucking bear.

After a tough seven mile hike the first day, we had gotten into camp a little later than expected, and quickly began setting up and making dinner. Just after we’d eaten, and only a few minutes after darkness had just settled, my brother went to grab something out of the bear canister.

For those of you who don’t know what a “bear canister” is, it’s the “bearproof” container you have to keep all of your food in when hiking in the Adirondacks. The thing is, it’s only bearproof when it’s locked, and ours had accidentally been left open and unattended for a few minutes. Whoops.

So anyway, it was dark, and my brother Jason went to grab something from the bear canister when he realized a huge ass black bear was gleefully pulling out all of our carefully packaged and dehydrated food and eating it.

Here’s the part I find interesting: since I was about 20 feet away at the time and didn’t see it all go down: Jason, who is a seasoned camper and backpacker, made a very weirdsound. It was kind of like a muffled, high pitch whine. It start out pretty weak, and then got a bit louder, like an incoherent “….ehheehhhhehEEEHHHH…”

When he came down to where my mom and I were sitting, his hands were oddly stuck up in the air, he had a weird smile on his face, and he said in a tight sing-songy voice:

“So… there’s a bear…?”

We didn’t believe him at first, because he was kind of smiling and because Jason is always joking around. Eventually it landed, and we ran to watch helplessly as the bear munched his way through half our trip’s worth of food.

The next few hours were spent screaming and banging pots and pans and throwing things at the bear while we scrambled to move all foodstuffs far away from camp. Pepper spray got deployed (covering all our stuff and skin and lungs), we thought we might have to abandon the whole trip, and we went to sleep still able to see the bear’s glinting eyes nearby.

But I’m not here to talk about bear safety. (Pro tip though: Don’t leave food unattended after dark in the Adirondacks.)

I’m here to talk about the way my brother, who had never encountered a bear before, acted completely fucking WEIRD.

My favorite part of the bear story is now the part where I do an impression of the whiney noises my brother made when he first saw the bear. I’ve never in twenty six years seen him behave that way, and in retrospect it was fucking hilarious.

My mom’s husband, a boy scout leader and bear safety enthusiast, was baffled by this behavior. He was like… WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST YELL “BEAR!”??

But Jason couldn’t yell “bear.”

He was a few feet away from a bear for the first time, he froze, and he started wracking his brain to remember the “rules” for this kind of bear situation. (There are different rules for different kinds of bears; some you’re supposed to hold perfectly still, and others you’re supposed to get big and make a lot of noise.)

Once he decided to make noise, he had to overcome the physiological freeze response, and still wasn’t thinking clearly or confidently. So instead of shouting “THERE’S A BEAR IN CAMP!” he just made those strange whining noises. That said, I guarantee you that having discussed and practiced yelling “bear!” over the next few days– if Jason ever encounters a black bear again he will respond quickly, confidently, and appropriately.

This story struck me as a fascinating analogy (given the current political climate) to what a lot of women experience regarding sexual harassment, assault, and rape.

When a woman is faced with sudden and unexpected danger, she freezes. She racks her brain to figure out what kind of “bear” she’s dealing with, and which rules apply.

Is this a bear who would be scared off if she screamed “no,” or would he try to kill her? Is this a bear who would ruin her career if she pisses him off? If it safer to play dead? To make an excuse and flee? To pretend you’re into it and get it over with quickly?

We make the best decision we can during (and after) harassment and assault, but often our stories come off as… strange.

When another trainer grabbed my ass in the gym once, I laughed. Hours later I was so bothered by my own behavior. Why did I laugh? Why didn’t I tell that creep off, and make a scene?

These moments of strangeness often make us feel too ashamed and embarrassed to report, because we know people will hear our story and ask us “why didn’t you just do such-and-such?”

And we won’t have an answer.

But survival mode makes us do strange things. It overrides logic, and locks up our voices, and plasters frozen smiles on our faces.

We must make room for people to tell their stories of feeling threatened without questioning their behavior. We must recognize that being afraid makes us do strange things, act in ways that are out of character, and make decisions that seem objectively poor from the outside.

Just because we didn’t scream “NO, GET OFF ME!” and immediately report it doesn’t mean we were complicit, lying, or wrong about what we experienced. It just means we were scared, frozen, surprised, and reduced to a gut-level survival mode.

We need the world to recognize what fear does to a person’s brain, and what trauma does to a person’s brain (including totally fucking with their memory in ways that are unfathomable to someone who hasn’t experienced it).

But I won’t hold my breath. Our culture isn’t changing fast enough, and in a world full of bears, women need to learn how to protect themselves.

Think about how many women take self-defense and krav maga classes in order to learn and practice responding to an attack. This has become a common response to living in fear, and an appropriate one.

But it’s also a bit misguided.

After all, the mass majority of sexual harassment and violence is done by someone we know, like, and trust, under non-violent circumstances. Shouldn’t we learn and practice responding to the actual dangers that most (if not all) women will face at some point?

How are we supposed to speak up when we’ve spent a lifetime avoiding conflict and not hurting anyone’s feelings? How are we expected to find our voices when our bodies are frozen? Just like in self-defense classes, we need to have practiced if we expect to stand up for ourselves when the time comes.

And rest assured, the time will come.

Whether it’s speaking up when a co-worker makes an inappropriate sexual comment, or knowing what to do when someone gropes you on the subway, self-assertiveness under pressure is a learnable skill, and it baffles me that it’s not a required part of female education.

We need to have practiced the skills of asserting our boundaries in a safe environment, multiple times, and loudly, just like some women practice responding to attack with a knee to the groin and a palm to the nose. We need these skills to be so well-practiced and in our bones, that when we are afraid, uncomfortable, drunk, or surprised, we can still assert our boundaries with clarity and power.

So let’s start practicing.

Seriously. Grab a partner or a few friends, and role play asserting your boundaries in every scenario you can think of. Speak loudly, clearly, and confidently. Reflect your boundaries in your body language. Make bold eye contact. Say it without smiling. Notice how uncomfortable that is, and then do it again.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Here are a few phrases to try practicing:

Leave me alone.

This is sexual harassment, and you need to stop.

I don’t like this.

I want to stop.

I changed my mind.

STOP.

NO.

That’s inappropriate.

That’s not funny to me.

You’re making me uncomfortable.

I’m not interested.

Challenge each other to deal with classic responses from “lighten up, I’m just joking,” to “come on, you know you want it.” Do it until it feels easy, and start practicing every chance you get in everyday life.

We can’t “out-logic” the weirdness of the freeze response. But we can sure as hell prepare for it and minimize it with practice. So let’s do that.

And if you’ve ever acted like a complete weirdo when afraid or surprised, and felt ashamed or embarrassed by your own behavior, please let my brother’s story be the beginning of self-compassion and forgiveness.

It’s not your fault, and your behavior doesn’t make your story less valid.

<3 Jessi

The post Why Didn’t You Just Yell “BEAR!”?? appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

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