#i can’t even bring myself to block the tags because what if some idiot tags something cool they did wrong with it

[markus209]

everytime i see a batfam post that turns out to be batcest i end up wanting to give in to my murderous urges more and more

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

referencing the last reblog so i don’t end up writing a mcfreakin novel in the poor person’s notes:

because god it really sucks holding it all in. my therapist is cool but it’s hard to explain some of these things that bother me to someone who isn’t as “online.” so i resort to posting about the things on my tumblr because it’s the closest i can get to talking about things to someone else without feeling as much of the guilt. idk my mind is an anomaly. speaking of guilt im putting a “read more” here now because this dumb thing’s getting long and now im thinking about the things that have bothered me that idk if i handled right and i don’t want to subject others to seeing it if they don’t want to.

ALSO i think im going to tag my random posts that i make when im having sad bad brain times with “trash rants” so please feel free to block that tag as needed!

the following is essentially about being in a discord server that had both minors (15+) and adults in it and the complications i had in that environment.

one thing that happened a while ago involved a situation within a fandom discord server that idk how tf to even explain the situation to a professional without feeling like an idiot. an adult artist had a character that other people in the server liked. one time that person posted something they drew of that character topless with a message about how boobs shouldn’t be sexual which is absolutely right. but then the others + the artist started making comments about the character’s boobs that i became very confused with how to interpret. my brain was like “are the intent of these comments to be suggestive/sexual in nature or am i being an ignorant asshole for interpreting them as such and it’s because i’m being the problem and seeing boobs themselves as a sexual?” it was even more complicated because the people involved in making these comments were underage. it got even even more complicated because then some of these underage people started drawing the character topless with more comments that i didn’t know how to interpret. one of these people at some point told the original artist that they would privately dm them the more nsfw drawings they were doing. and everyone seemed to be having a good time going “BOOBS 👀👀” and all that and the channel was going crazy. but i was getting so uncomfortable and confused. and i felt like such an asshole. because i like boobs too and society shouldn’t see them as something inherently sexual. but the underage folk being involved made it so complicated for my brain. because if some random person not involved with the server looked in on what was happening, couldn’t it be seen as minors making and sending an adult nsfw art? even though it was very likely NOT the intention of the original artist.

what i ended up doing was bringing my concerns to the server owner, which was responded well to. a rule was put in place about sharing nsfw stuff. but i felt so guilty about it. i felt like i was being a party pooper and ruining people’s fun. i still wasn’t sure if i was even doing the right thing and if it was a problem within me and not with what happened. i was born into a conservative religious background so it was only when i became more independent and was allowed access to the internet that i got to start to unlearn the bad things that were taught to me. that background is something i’m trying so hard to separate myself from, but it’s something that i’m afraid will haunt me. was what happened in the server not actually a problem, and it was because my brain wants to do the bad society thing and interpret boobs as sexual? did i ruin everyone’s fun because i’m just an ignorant asshole who got uncomfy at something i shouldn’t be getting uncomfy about? i still don’t know. anyway, i ended up leaving the server because i just couldn’t enjoy it anymore. once in a while that original artist’s stuff pops up naturally in my feed because we��re still in the same fandom, but i can’t even look at their art or even their name without feeling all the confusion and guilt again. which i feel terrible about because they seemed like a really nice person and they’re a great artist! and i really don’t think they had any bad intentions at all when that situation in the server happened. but i just can’t do it.

that situation was the first moment i truly realized just how scary it is and careful you have to be when you’re in an online environment where adults and minors can freely interact. it’s easy to forget ages when you’re just a profile picture, and how easy it can be to influence someone young, and how dangerous that is, whether your intentions are good or not. it made me realize that i don’t want to be in that type of server where you’re directly interacting with underage people. because i’m a fucking mess and i don’t know what the hell i’m doing 90% of the time. i don’t want to somehow mess up a kid! even if it’s an accident i didn’t want to risk having that accident happen in the first place. it’s one of the reasons why i can’t bring myself to ever draw and post nsfw art anywhere either. i just feel so uncomfortable about it. to me it’s fine if others do it if they’re doing it in a safe way with the necessary precautions, and they shouldn’t feel shame in it! it’s just not something i feel comfortable doing myself.

jfc im so sorry if anyone actually read this far. this whole thing is so stupid. i wish i didnt let it bother me for so long. there are a lot of stupid things that my brain wastes time worrying about. maybe writing all this down will help me explain it to someone on the “outside” who can tell me how to stop it. i don’t know.

[knivesareout]

take on the world - chapter one

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, bad jokes, flirting idiots and Tom doesn’t exist.

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Well, here is the beginning of what is going to be a BEAST of a fic. There will probably be around 8-10 chapters in total and I’m already working on the next one (aka where the smut is). I will warn you all that this is going to deal with some heavy subject matter as we go along but I’ll put up proper warnings when they come. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

INSPO TAG | CHAPTER TWO

___________

There was a special place in hell for people who set their friends up on blind dates.

This wasn’t your first, or even your fifth, blind date in the last year that you’d agreed to go on to appease a happily married friend. This time it was Jessica’s husband’s co-worker who she’d shown you a picture of and you had wearily agreed, nodding as she told you how great he was.

He was in fact, not great, as he was now 30 minutes late and counting despite the numerous texts you’d sent him.

Thankfully the bar you were currently at was only a quick 10 minute walk from your apartment, a small miracle you were glad for. Surely you could stumble back the couple of blocks to your place if you decided to drown your sorrows in shots of tequila, a couple beers, and maybe a fruity drink or two if you were feeling spendy or particularly sad.

The bar was loud and, of course, overly crowded. It was a Saturday night after all.

Most tvs around the room were playing various baseball games at top volume with the season having only started a couple weeks prior. It wasn’t your favorite sport but you knew enough to keep up, eyes fixated on the Red Sox game just to the left of you.

“Need a refill?”

A cough sounds in your ear and you turn, realizing the question was meant for you. The man who’s taken up residence on the bar stool next to you is waiting for an answer, a distressed ball cap tugged low over his face and you wish you could see him better.

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, glancing down at the empty pint glass and back up again. When did you finish that? “Yeah, I mean. I need one.”

The man just nods, motioning the bartender over and he wordlessly clears your glass and sets a new one in front of you as well as one in front of the man next to you.

Muttering a quiet thanks to the bartender, you turn to the man in the cap and smile. “Thanks. Didn’t even realize I’d gone through it so fast.”

The man nods with a shrug of his shoulders, a slight smile on his face. “No worries. You looked like you were sucked into the game and figured I could help. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

Giving him your name, you reach a hand for him to shake- which he does. Rough, calloused hands envelope yours in a tight squeeze before he drops them with a cough.

You realize he must’ve been watching you before, if he knew you were with an empty cup.

Normally that was something you would find creepy because you were clearly alone, or at the very least weird but for some reason it’s endearing on this guy. Frankie. Out of the corner of your eye, you try to take in his features without being obvious, his attention now turned to the same game you’d been watching only moments before.

Dark hair curls outside of his baseball cap, a dimple embedded into his cheek on the right as he smiles. Patchy facial hair covers his jawline, bits of grey catching the light as he tilts his head back to take a swig of his beer and you wonder how old he is. At first you would’ve pegged him around your age, but now getting a somewhat better look he might have several years on you.

“Were you waiting on someone?” He asks, turning to you with his voice raised. A group of men are shouting in the back of the bar near the pool table and you wince.

You nod, downing half of your beer and swiping at your mouth. “Yeah. Blind date. I should know better but I can’t tell people no and he was cute.”

Frankie just laughs at your honesty, “So he just didn’t show?”

“Yep. Never had one that just didn’t show up. Figured I might as well get drunk to commemorate the occasion. Or commiserate. Either one.” You bring your glass up to his and cheers, shaking your head incredulously.

“His loss.”

You turn to Frankie with a raised brow, lowering your glass to watch him slowly check you out. You feel hot all over and clear your throat, teeth tugging on your bottom lip.

“What about you then? Here alone or did you ditch someone?”

Frankie presses a hand to his heart, fake wounded at your jab. “You already think so little of me? I was here with friends but they bailed on me,” he explains. “Saw you by yourself and thought we could both use the company.”

His answer puts you more at ease and you finish off your second beer of the night.

“So, figure I gotta ask. How old are you?” It really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things but if things are heading in the direction you hope they are, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable if you’re too young.

He seems startled by your question, like it’d never occurred to him to ask and he falters before answering. Did it make him uncomfortable?

“You know,” Frankie starts with a chuckle. “Normally, I’d be offended but I’m not. ‘M 42.”

Nodding, you blow out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d be holding. “Newly 30,” you tell him, bringing your refilled drink up to click against his own.

The age reveal doesn’t seem to bother him, at least from what you can tell. You’d never cursed your age before until now, hoping it hadn’t put him off.

You turn on the barstool to face Frankie, hoping to break the tension.

“So I have just one question for you, Frankie.”

He nods, turning to face you and waiting for you to continue.

You hold up a finger and place it on his jaw near his mouth, the one spot not filled up by wiry grey and black hair. His eyes are wide at your touch and he’s tense.

It was something you’d noticed right away when he sat next to you, your attention drawn to it for whatever reason. His terribly patchy facial hair was endearing.

“Why is this the perfect place for a kiss?”

The way Frankie looks when he laughs makes your heart ache in the best way. He tosses his head back, mouth wide as he tries to contain his laughter. His dark eyes crinkle, nose scrunched up at your blunt question and you retract your hand, satisfied with his response.

“How much have you had to drink?” He manages to get out between wheezing while he catches his breath.

“Couple shots of tequila while I stupidly waited. Two beers now, thanks to you,” you nod at the empty glass. “I might be drunk? It’s hard to tell, honestly. I think I’m fine.”

“So you’re just normally like this?” Frankie laughs, tilting his head. His fingers drum on the side of his almost empty pint glass, something you wonder is a nervous tick.

You push your empty glass away, hoping it’ll get the bartender’s attention and it does. Ordering Frankie another beer and a vodka cranberry for you, you turn back to him. “Guess so. If it’s too much though, I can pretend you never came over here and finish the game by myself.”

“Not what I meant,” he’s quick to tell you. “Just wanted to know what I’m getting myself into is all.”

Silently your lips tick up in a smirk and you start on your drink, turning your attention back to the game.

Over the next hour, you get to know Frankie and vice versa. He’s ex-Army; out for the last couple of years and he’s slowly getting back into the real world. Explains how he doesn’t have any family in North Carolina but all of his buddies live here, so he moved.

Frankie’s a helicopter pilot, giving city flyover tours to people coming in from out of town. He doesn’t love it but he loves flying so it’s enough for him, he tells you. You can see it in his eyes how passionate he is about flying and it makes you grin.

In turn, he asks about you. Normally you wouldn’t give up so much information about yourself to someone you don’t know all that well but Frankie has slowly started to feel like anything but and you feel guilty letting him give you so much only to get nothing in return- so you tell him. Maybe too much. About how your job working at a law firm is the most boring thing, especially when you had no interest in law. Which in turn sparks up his question- what do you want to do? That ends up setting you off on a tangent about your love of photography but how hard the industry is to break into to do it professionally or at the least get paid for it.

“Here, hang on.” You tell him, sliding your phone out of your back pocket and pulling up your Instagram. Social media was, normally, the bane of your existence but you used the app for your photos and nothing else, you tell him. He nods like he understands, telling you he isn’t much better technology wise.

Frankie’s quiet as he scrolls through your feed. He’s slow about it too, clicking on a few to see them bigger, and you bite your lip in anticipation at what he might be thinking. It’s nerve wracking to show anyone your passion and you manage to finish off your drink while he’s still scrolling, waving off the bartender as he asks if you want another.

“You’re fucking talented as shit, you know that?”

His response catches you off guard and you can instantly feel yourself getting warm at his compliment. It feels different, coming from him. A stranger who’s slowly becoming something more.

“You’ll have to let me take your picture some day,” you shoot back, kicking your dangling foot against his.

“You don’t have pictures of people on there though,” he’s quick to point out, handing you back your phone.

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. It’s hard convincing people to hike with me is all.” Nature photography was your niche but you could already envision photographing a portrait of Frankie on a mountain with the sun illuminated behind him.

Frankie finishes off his beer and sighs loudly, turning to you with his brows raised. “Well, we’ll have to plan something then won’t we?”

You’d known that was coming and still, your stomach fills with butterflies as he all but asks you out. To see you again beyond this dark, crowded bar that smells like smoke and sweat.

“Definitely.”

Frankie asks if he can walk you home once the bar tab has been paid an hour later- he’s even covered yours too, in apology of your ruined date and unintentionally crashing your plan to wallow in self-pity afterwards.

“I’m just a couple blocks down,” you tell him, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders to combat the cool, spring breeze.

“No worries. Can’t complain about getting to spend a little more time with you,” he says cooly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

The line is smooth and cheesy but it still puts a smile on your face, which you’re sure was its intended effect.

You chuckle, turning to him so he can see the roll of your eyes. “Smooth, Casanova.”

Frankie puts his hands out in front of him in defense, scoffing at your jab.

“Cut me some slack, alright. Haven’t even dated a woman in years, let alone spent hours interrupted and talking with one,” he explains, knocking his shoulder with yours.

The little touch is something weirdly intimate and you cough, looking at him with a skeptical eye.

“I find that hard to believe, Frankie,” you chuckle, “You’re a good looking guy. Can even hold a decent conversation. No dates? Really?”

He shakes his head, shrugging. “Wasn’t in the right headspace for it. And now that I am, I just so happen to meet you and who knows. Was it fate?”

You spot the teasing tone of his voice immediately and you shove him lightly as you start to approach your apartment building. “You’re an ass,” you tell him, giggling as you try and pull your keys from your pocket, fingers fumbling and they drop to the ground with a clang.

You both reach down at the same time, heads knocking together and you can’t stop yourself from laughing. Laughing so much your chest aches with it and you can’t breathe, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and you glance over and Frankie’s no better, clutching his stomach as you both sit on the ground around your fallen keys.

“We’re a fucking mess,” you manage to get out between left over laughter and catching your breath.

Frankie lets out a loud breath, trying to calm himself and he nods in agreement. Picking up the keys, he hands them to you and stands, offering you a hand that you gladly take and try to steady yourself once you’re safely back on your feet.

“You alright?” He asks, running his hands over your hair and brushing at the crown of your head. As if he’s inspecting you for any injuries and you hold your breath.

The best you can manage is a nod, eyes flicking to meet his and you search them for any sign that he’s feeling exactly what you are.

He is. Expressive brown eyes that tell you everything you need to know.

Frankie sighs, pulling his hands back from your face and groans. Kicking at the pavement and mumbling quietly to himself.

Has the moment passed? Did you not react how he was expecting?

Turning back to you, he gives you a self-deprecating smile. “We’re drunk,” he explains. His tone is apologetic and you wonder why he’s saying the words if he feels bad about them in the first place.

“Maybe a little,” you agree. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t had, what I’m sure is, a much better date than I would’ve if that guy had shown up.”

You can tell your words mean something to him. It’s like he’s got this loose energy that he doesn’t know what to do with. Like he wants to shout and scream and run down the street. It makes you want to know more about him- what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling.

Bouncing on his toes, Frankie hurriedly pulls out his phone from his front pocket and hands it to you. “I wanna see you again. Put your number in there?”

The phone is old. Flip-phone old and you laugh as you figure out how to program your number in there, adding your name along with a smiley face at the end before handing it back over to him.

“I had a really great time tonight, Frankie,” you promise him, fiddling with your keys. “Thank you for saving me from what was probably going to be a terrible night.”

“Me too,” he agrees, pursing his lips.

It’s like he’s deciding his next move and it catches you off guard when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek.

Once there’s a fair amount of distance between you, Frankie heads down the sidewalk and waves. “I’ll call you,” he tells you, calling over his shoulder.

“You better,” you yell back.

Your grin is huge and you’re sure he can see it, even as he continues to walk backwards, watching you, and he disappears into the night.

---

Frankie calls the next day.

Phone numbers that weren’t saved in your address book were usually sent straight to voicemail but there was a nagging feeling deep in your gut to just answer it so you move to the edge of the sidewalk and out of the crowd and pick up.

“Hello?”

You catch a sigh and Frankie’s voice sounds over the speaker, bringing a smile to your face instantly. “Hey, it’s uh. Frankie. From the bar last night?”

Laughing a little, you nod to yourself. “Yeah. I remember you. Almost knocked me out when we bumped heads trying to pick up my keys.”

“Oh good,” he sounds relieved and you glance around as you wait for him to speak again, hoping the conversation was more than just chit-chat. “I know we just saw each other yesterday but I was wondering if I could see you again. Tonight maybe? If you don’t have plans. It’s fine if you do, I just thought I’d ask.”

He’s rushing through his words and you can tell instantly that he’s had to psych himself up to call you from his nervous tone through the receiver.

You don’t have plans and you’re more than eager to see Frankie again. Wondering if last night was a fluke and hoping that it wasn’t. Relationships weren’t your forte but maybe this was the exceptiontion. He was the exception.

“Yeah, I’d really like that Frankie. Just wanna meet me outside of my building around 7?” You chew on your lip nervously.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “That- that would be great. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you chuckle. “Bye Frankie.”

“Bye.”

Suddenly thankful that you were done running your errands for the day, you headed back home with a grin on your face that didn’t seem like it wanted to leave. Cheeks aching, you wondered what and if he had anything planned.

It had been too long since you’d gone on any sort of date. A real date; something planned and thought out unlike the blind dates you were used to. Frankie didn’t seem the type for a typical dinner and a movie, and something about that idea had you even more excited to see him. Everything about the situation with him was unpredictable: the chance meeting at the bar, to the walk home where you laughed harder than you could remember. There was clearly something there between the two of you and it was exhilarating.

The rest of your day was spent cleaning and daydreaming about the night you might have with Frankie. You wondered if this was how it was supposed to feel when you liked someone. The concept was foreign to you, your relationship history basically nonexistent. Was it possible that he was just as nervous as you were?

As 7pm rolled around, a text sounded over your phone and you leaned over on the counter to see Frankie telling you he was outside. Grabbing a light coat on your way out, you took a deep breath and locked the door behind you. No turning back now.

Frankie was dressed similarly to last night. Jeans, a t-shirt and a tan jacket that looked like it’d seen better days. His hat was missing and his hair looked soft, the ends curling around his ears. You greeted him with a smile as you walked out of your building and he nodded, rocking back on his feet.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” He asks, nodding his head as you both started to walk left down the sidewalk. “The fact that we met last night and we’re seeing each other again?”

You chuckled, “It’s weird in the sense that I’ve never done this before. Any of it. But no, to answer your question. I wanted to see you again and I am, so.” Shrugging, you turn to listen to him as you both continue to walk, keeping to the side.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I’ve met people in bars. Women. But it’s usually a one night kind of thing-,” Frankie stops himself and groans, running a hand down his face in embarrassment. “That sounds bad. Fuck.”

“Ain’t no shame in the game, Frankie. I’m not here to judge you,” you promise, pausing as you wait for the crosswalk sign to turn white so you can cross the street. “Where are we going, by the way?”

Frankie waits to answer until you’re both safely across the street and heading further into downtown, the crowds getting thicker and you push yourself against his side so as not to lose him. His arm finds its way across your shoulders to keep you close and he answers, leaning his head down closer to your ear. “There’s this bar and arcade thing down a couple more blocks that I figured we could spend some time at. Maybe head to the park after that and walk around. See where the night takes us?”

It’s easy to tell he hasn’t quite planned this out and something about that makes your heart race. He really had just wanted to see you, planning this as he goes only so you can spend more time together.

“The park can get a little murder-like late at night,” you point out with a laugh,

“That’s true. Well, we can always just see where the night takes us after we play a couple of games then if that’s alright?”

“That’s the part where you’re supposed to tell me you’ll protect me,” you poke a finger into his side and laugh. “But yeah of course, Frankie. Whatever you wanna do,” you reassure him. “I’m just along for the ride.”

The bar slash arcade was… something. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t what you walked into. The building was packed to the brim; loud noises, slots and different game noises sounding from every corner, and a small bar was tucked in the left corner with a tv playing what looked like The Shining above it.

“Have you been here before?” You raise your voice, balancing yourself on his shoulder to get closer to his ear.

He nods shouting back, “Yeah, once. Came with a couple of buddies of mine. They’ve got some cool retro games in the back that we used to play as a kid. Everyone loves air hockey too, right?”

You can see the air hockey table he’s referring to. The black light makes everything under the table glow and it reminds you of the arcades off of food courts that most malls used to have. The skeptical feeling you had when walking in seems to fade away and suddenly you’re excited, wondering why you hadn’t been here before when it was so close to your apartment to begin with.

“Once the table clears, I wanna play,” you say, tugging Frankie towards the back where you see a racing game that looks familiar.

Frankie exchanges a few bills for tokens while you hold the two racing games and once he’s slid in the appropriate amount, it’s immediately turned into a competition.

As the screen starts to countdown to your race, you turn to him quickly with a proposition. “If I win, you buy me a beer.”

“I was gonna buy you one anyway,” he tells you, shaking his head as if he’d do anything less. “But alright. If I win, you have to give me a kiss right here.”

He annoyingly points to the empty spot on his jaw where his facial hair didn’t seem to grow, that you had drunkenly pointed out the night before, and you can’t help the loud bark of laughter that escapes your lips as you quickly nod. “Deal.”

You’re almost tempted to lose once the race starts, just so you can kiss him there. But deep in your gut you feel like there’ll be plenty of opportunities to kiss him there in the future so you don’t hold back. The routes feel familiar as you and Frankie virtually drive through them and you’re sure you’ve played this game before, years ago.

As you both reach the last lap and the finish line, you just barely win and pump your fists as you cross. The screen declares you the winner in big font, a trophy spinning in circles and you turn to Frankie. “So, about that beer.”

You two end up at the bar for a little over an hour. The barstools surrounding the area are a hot commodity and once you and Frankie are sat down, you’re reluctant to give them up, especially with the bartender keeping your drinks filled without having to ask.

Frankie tells you about his friends. Benny, Will, and Santiago. How they’ve kept him going since returning back to civilian life. He says they’re all one big support group to each other, knowing that even if it feels like there’s no one you could count on, one of them is always around. There’s a tightness to his voice when he talks about them, like he can’t believe his luck that he has such supportive friends. The clear despair on his face has your chest aching, and you squeeze his hand in comfort.

It makes you yearn for a friendship like that. Most of your friends are married and it’s harder to relate to them when you’re single and living in the city while they’re still living in your hometown with a couple of kids. You tell Frankie as much and he sympathizes and points out that you have at least one friend in the city now, shaking off the emotions of such a heavy conversation.

“Looks like the air hockey table is free,” you nod, seeing the table free for the first time that night.

Frankie nods, standing up to grab his wallet. “You grab the table, I’m gonna close out the tab.”

You quickly walk over, grabbing the two handles and knock a few tokens into the machine when the lime green puck pops out. Frankie joins you a few seconds later, grabbing his handle and standing opposite you.

“So, what are we competing for this time?”

You think for a moment, “Well, I don’t think I need another drink. What about if I win, you have to cook me dinner sometime this week? Maybe Wednesday?”

Frankie seems taken aback by your suggestion but readily agrees. “I can do that. And if I win, you have to cook me breakfast Thursday morning.”

His offer isn’t lost on you and you toss the puck onto the table with a smirk as the air starts to push it around. “You’re on.”

The match is filled with trash talk as you two play. You even manage to gather a small crowd of people around you, cheering you both on. It’s close. For every point you get, Frankie’s one step behind you. Your wrist is starting to ache and the countdown starts on the side, signaling the end of your game in the next 30 seconds.

“You’re gonna lose, Frankie,” you taunt, scoring another point and he tosses the puck back on the table and shoots it towards you as you block it, sending it back across the table.

Except you lose. By a point.

There are cheers for Frankie and slaps on the back as another couple takes over the table and you both move to the side to watch.

“I can’t say I’m all that mad that I lost,” you tell him honestly, glancing up and locking your eyes with his own deep, brown ones.

“It was kind of a win-win for both of us either way,” he agrees, nudging his arm with yours. “So, another date Wednesday night?”

You nod quickly, “Sounds perfect.”

--- Frankie walks you home a few hours later.

After the arcade, you both grab slices of pizza from a small place down the block and walk around, grease staining your fingers and tongues burnt from being so hungry.

Most people are tucking themselves back into their beds at the late hour, your watch showing it was coming up on 2am as you both approach your building.

“A successful first date, I think,” you turn to him, arms wrapped around yourself as the wind turns cold around you. You sniff as your nose starts to drip, scrunching it up and Frankie laughs.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against chest in a hug.

You savor the warmth as you press your cheek against him, then turn your head. “I should go inside. And you should head home, it’s so fucking late.”

Untangling yourselves, Frankie shoves his hands into his pockets and knocks his arm against yours. “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

Nodding quickly, Frankie shoots you a smile and turns, jogging across the street to where his truck is parked.

It’s like seeing him walk away pushes something inside you, itching to see him just once more and you call out to him quickly before he can get in his truck, “Frankie! Wait! I forgot something!”

He turns to watch you run across the street as he stands in front of the driver’s side door, looking at you curiously once you’re stood in front of him.

“What did you forget?”

“This.” And you lean over to press a kiss to the bare spot along his jaw, the sparse hair around it tickling your lips and you pull away with a grin.

Turning to glance both ways before crossing the street you call behind you, “Goodnight Frankie!”

NEXT CHAPTER

[odos-bucket]

So I was reading @andillwriteyouatragedy​‘s incredible Brand New Day where Bruce and Clark adopt a young Dick Grayson together, and was thinking about a sort of companion story where they take in Jason together too. Using that story as a rough reference, I’m gonna say they’ve been together for a decade or so here. Dick is somewhere in his late teens. I’m figuring Clark probably offers to tag along on Bruce’s annual trip to crime alley every year. Bruce always politely declines. It’s basically become a part of the day’s bleak tradition. Clark is surprised when for once his offer is accepted. Later on, if pressed, neither of them would be able to pinpoint what was different about that night that made Bruce decide that it might be okay to have some company for once. Clark probably feels weird about it at first. Even though he’d asked Bruce if he wanted company, and Bruce had said yes, which he never would have unless he’d absolutely meant it (and Clark knows that). It still feels a little like he’s intruding on something private, even sacred. Then of course they get there, and there’s nothing going on. Superman’s senses don’t pick up the slightest hint of disruption anywhere in the neighborhood. Maybe they start patrolling around it anyways, maybe they just wander for a couple of blocks. Sooner or later they overhear someone talking about how it’s this night every year that Batman comes calling. Local criminals have picked up on the fact that if they just keep their heads down for this one specific night they can pretty much avoid him. Bruce is all grumbly about it, and immediately goes into ~strategy mode~ like, “Okay, I’ll have to start coming here on different days, on an irregular schedule.” He immediately opens up a dozen different tabs in his brain with calendars, and crime statistics, and is thinking a mile a minute, because that’s what he does. He’s kind of agitated about needing to change something that’s been a ritual for so long (because Batman has OCD, fight me) and he’s annoyed at himself for being bothered by it. Absolutely none of this sudden inner turmoil is detectable in his expression or body language. But Clark knows Bruce, knows how he reacts to things, and that there’s no way he’s not annoyed right now. He says, “Sounds like tonight will be a bust if we stay here,” then when Bruce grunts in response, continues, “We could go back to the manor. Watch a movie.” Then after a pause. “Or we could patrol somewhere else.” A moment passes. When Bruce says, “Okay,” Clark isn’t sure which suggestion he’s agreeing to, but they start back towards the car. It’s not a long walk, but they aren’t moving particularly quickly. By the time they get back to the batmobile it only has one wheel.

Clark frowns as he walks closer, before being stopped in his tracks by a surprising sound. It’s a sound that he recognizes immediately, that he hears all too infrequently. Bruce is laughing. Clark’s mouth quirks into a half smile. He takes a few steps forward, thinking about just picking the whole thing up and flying it back home. Then from a few paces ahead he hears Bruce’s low, gravelly Batman voice say, “Hi there.” Once he’s tuned in to the idea of another presence nearby, it becomes obvious to his advanced senses that someone is lurking behind the car. “Shit,” a small voice says. Bruce takes a few steps closer. “Planning on finishing the job?” He gestures to their remaining wheel. Clark shifts until he can get the kid partially in his sight without the aid of x-ray vision. He’s small, and looks to be somewhere in his pre-teens. “I got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says quickly. “Oh really?” Bruce asks. The boy glares at him. “Nice tire iron,” Bruce continues. “Comes in handy.” “I bet it does.” No sooner than the words are out of Bruce’s mouth, the tool is colliding with his shin. The boy shoots out from behind the car, and down a nearby street. Clark starts toward Bruce, who quickly gestures for him to go after the kid instead. He catches up with him in less than a second. When his hand falls onto the kid’s shoulder he freezes, muscles tightening throughout his body, and heart rate speeding up rapidly. The fear response is so sudden and extreme that Clark finds himself pulling away as if he’s been burned. The anxiety around being feared is something he’s mostly left in his past, but there’s a deep rooted insecurity within him that it still prods at. The kid stumbles when he starts to run again, and by then Bruce has caught up. They hang back, but trail after the boy at a distance, until they reach a condemned building a few blocks away. “Should we go in?” Clark asks. “Probably where my tires are,” Bruce says, before climbing through an uncovered doorway. It isn’t hard to find him again. There aren’t too many heartbeats in the area to distinguish between. When Bruce opens the door to the dilapidated room, the boy’s pulse rate jumps through the roof. Nothing changes externally about him though, and Clark wonders whether or not Bruce can tell that he’s afraid of them. There’s the slightest vibration to his words when he speaks. “Okay, take your stupid tires already. I’m sorry, all right? Just leave me alone!” Bruce isn’t looking at his tires. He’s looking around the room, no doubt noticing the same things that Clark has, mold, water damage, a broken window. The place is freezing. Then in the corner there’s a cardboard box with some pasta and canned goods in it, a small stack of books, and a mattress on the floor. “Do you… live here?” Bruce asks. “Yeah. What of it?” Bruce takes a few more steps into the room. “Where are your parents, son?” Clark asks. “Mom’s dead. I dunno where Dad is; don’t really care, if I’m being honest. Now take your stuff and go already!” He’s holding the iron up again, wielding it in a manner that’s clearly meant to be threatening. Bruce plucks it out of his hands with relative ease, inspects it, then turns it around and hands it back. “Move your thumb up like this, and you’ll have a sturdier grip. And don’t stand with your legs so far apart, it’ll put you off balance.” He sighs. “What’s your name?” “… Jason.” He grabs the tire iron back, shuffling to adjust his grip and footing, keeping his stance defensive. Bruce looks around the place again. “You can’t stay here, Jason.” “Oh yeah? Says who? I can take care of myself! Been doing it for long enough.” Bruce glances up at Clark, who can see the wheels turning in his head, before looking back at Jason. “I’d really like the wheels of my car back,” he says carefully, then hurries to continue before Jason can interject. “Can I make you a deal? We’ll buy you dinner if you reattach the batmobile’s tires?”

There’s a fast food place a couple of blocks away that’s open 24 hours. Jason agrees to accompany them, but walks a few yards behind. The employees at the place aren’t at all phased by the appearance of the two vigilantes. Bruce inspects a suspicious stain on one of the walls, while Jason and Clark look at the menu posted above the counter. They order- Bruce gets two of what Jason asks for- then go outside to eat. Bruce is lost in thought as they exit the restaurant, wondering what it would take to bring free food trucks to the area. Jason’s halfway done with his meal by the time they sit down on the sidewalk. “Do you go to school around here?” Bruce asks, wanting to put together a fuller picture of the boy’s situation. Jason gets a distant look in his eyes in response to the question. He finishes chewing slowly, swallows, then shakes his head, clearing his throat before replying. “No. Not for a long time now.” He shrugs. “I got all I needed to out of it.” “You had some pretty advanced reading material back at your place for someone who didn’t finish middle school.” Bruce recalled seeing The Odyssey amongst his few possessions, as well as a couple of Shakespeare plays. Jason shrugs again. “Reading’s not that hard.” “Some people find it very difficult,” Clark says. “Some people are stupid.” Bruce cuts in before Clark can start on the gentle reprimand he can see him preparing. “Ever think that maybe you’re just smart?” Jason gives him a curious look, like that really wasn’t a possibility that he had considered before, then takes another bite, and stares off thoughtfully. “So, Homer,” Bruce prompts. Jason nods. “It’s a fun story. Odi-seuss is a dick though.” Bruce resists both the compulsion to correct his pronunciation of ‘Odysseus’, and Alfred’s voice in the back of his head urging him to tell the kid not to swear. “What makes you say that?” He asks instead. Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe all the pillaging, and murdering he does throughout the entire book.” “Poem,” Bruce corrects. “What?” “The Odyssey is a poem.” “Wait, really?” Bruce hums an affirmative. “Huh… cool. But the point still stands.” “I’m inclined to agree with you. Have you ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel?” Jason shakes his head. “It’s been a personal favorite for a long time,” says Bruce. Clark shoots him an amused grin. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone throwing out a copy,” Jason says. Bruce frowns. “You have a library around here.” The remark earns him an unamused snort. “It’s a Gotham library; people don’t go there to read books, they go there to buy, sell and/or ingest drugs, and they tend not to be too happy with anybody who’s lingering around while they’re doing it.” Bruce feels a pang, not for the first time that night. “Jason,” he starts, before realizing he isn’t sure what to say. Jason keeps angled to watch him expectantly as he rises to deposit his napkins and bag in a nearby trashcan. “We’d like to help you,” Clark says. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Right. Just how do you plan on doing that? Because I’ve heard that before. I’ve done the whole foster care thing already, and I’m not about to go through it again.” “No,” Bruce is quick to agree. “But there are residential schools in the city. We could help you to get enrolled in one.” Jason seems taken aback by the offer. “…Why?” He asks slowly. “Well for one, because kids should be in school. You’d be provided with room and board for the duration of your time there, which would leave you with less to worry about.” He reaches out to pass Jason the second takeout bag. He’s still lingering at a distance from them. “At least think about it?” “No. I mean, like, why?” Bruce’s eyebrow raises, tugging at the material of his cowl. “What’s in this for you?” Jason continues. “Why do you even care?” “It’s our job,” Clark says. “You’re job is to beat up bad guys.” Clark smiles when Jason mimes punching someone, before saying, “Our job is to help people.” Jason purses his lips. “Don’t boarding schools cost money?” “Most of them offer scholarships,” Bruce says. “I have a few friends who are deans. I could make the necessary introductions to ensure you a place at one of their institutions.“ Jason’s arms are crossed high over his chest, and his expression is set like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want to end up stuck somewhere where someone else is the boss of me.” “How about you at least come with us to check a couple of these places out,” Bruce suggests. “Just see how you feel about them. No commitment.” Jason’s nose scrunches up. “Where exactly are these places?” He asks. “It varies,” Bruce says. “All within the city.” They watch the boy chew on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Just to see,” he says eventually. Bruce nods. “I’m not getting into a car with you,” Jason adds. “We can take the bus,” Clark offers. Jason raises an eyebrow at that, and his mouth quirks almost into a smile. “Batman and Superman are gonna ride on Gotham’s shitty public transit?” “Why not?” Clark asks. “… Okay,” Jason says, still plainly unconvinced. “Let’s meet back here,” Bruce suggests. “Tomorrow?” Jason takes a minute, but eventually starts to nod. “Sure,” he says. “Why not.” They part ways after Clark disposes of his empty bag. The heroes return to their car.

While they’re driving back Clark says, “I know that look.” Bruce pauses to take stock of his own expression, and makes sure to neutralize anything on his face that might be out of the ordinary. Clark continues, unbothered by the lack of response. “It’s your ‘I’m already deeply emotionally invested in this kid’ look.” Bruce hums noncommittally. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Clark adds. Bruce doesn’t either, but that’s par for the course at this point.

Part Two

[suchalonelysunflower]

You’re the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I’m singing (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings X Fem!Reader

Summary: Luke needs help writing a song, luckily you’re there to help him. You just hope your feelings for him won’t interfere in the writing process.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst if you blink. The reader uses she/her pronouns. Language, invasion of privacy, unprotected sex (don’t do it guys) oral female reciving. Maybe some grammatical errors (English it’s not my first language, sorry)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s Note: Hello ✨ I’ve been working with this Luke piece since August and I finally stop procrastinating in order to finish it 🎉 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are always welcome and encouraged! I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻

My materialist // Wanna be on my tag list?

He did it.

After almost two weeks of not getting anything good out of his head Luke finally beat the writer’s block.

He jumped out of his seat in the island kitchen and ran towards his music room with a very excited Petunia walking behind him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Luke grabbed his notebook and started writing as soon as his ass hit the cushions of the little sofa he had there, getting already lost in the sound.

His eyes filled with joy as he wrote down the melody, muttering some words to go along with it and bobbing his head as the rhythm got better and better. He couldn’t feel prouder.

It wasn’t like him to have such a strong writer‘s block, whenever it happened his band mates were there to help him get through it. However, this time they weren’t here, they were still at the studio where he was supposed to be.

It was an unanimous decision, they all new Luke wasn’t at his best, always getting frustrated and closing himself up to others, refusing any help until he could come up with something on his own, so they recommended him to rest at home for a couple days before he totally burns out and, reluctantly, he agreed.

But all of that self pity ended now that he got a melody going on and a few lyrics written down. To say that he was in cloud nine was an understatement.

A few moments later his phone started ringing. He was doing so well that he didn’t think to answer it until he saw your name pop up.

“Leech!” He said with a smile once he picked up.

You scrunch your nose at the old nickname. You have known the man for at least 19 years and he still refuses to let go of the fact that you didn’t want to be his friend at the beginning because someone told you boys had leeches hidden in their pockets.

But, alas, you knew the nickname was not going anywhere so you decided to ignore it just this time “Hello, Hems!”

“I’m so glad you called! Just in time, actually” He said cheerfully.

“Well someone sounds happy for a change” You chuckled “What’s gotten you so amicable today, love?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, you need to come in order to know what it is” Luke teased, not needing to see your face to know that you were rolling your eyes at him.

You chuckled again “Good thing I’m on my way then with some pizza. I’ll be there in approximately one Jonas Brothers’ song”

He laughed “You’re too good to me”

You sighed when he ended the call just a few seconds later “Only if you knew…”

You hated the cliche of falling for your best friend, but in your defense: your best friend was Luke Hemings, how could you not?

Once “Lovebug” ended you found yourself parking in his driveway. You shook your head at the irony of it all as you grabbed the pizza box and headed to the door. You were about to knock when suddenly he opened the door, flashing you one of his signature smiles that made your tummy feel weird.

“Were you waiting by the door?” You asked as you extended your arm to give him a side hug, which he gladly took and hugged you back, bringing you even closer to him. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the loud beatings of your heart.

“By the window, actually” Luke laughed as he took the pizza box from you and walked to the kitchen, placing it on top of the counter “I just can’t wait to show you what I got!”

You could see how excited he was, the gleam in his eyes was everlasting as he talked and his smile reached his eyes with ease, making little wrinkles appear by the sides of them. You smiled back at him and nodded, letting him lead the way.

He quickly took your hand, almost running as he guided you to his mini studio. You sat on his sofa, petting Petunia as he accommodated himself and his guitar.

“I figured it out!” Luke said with pride in his eyes “I conquered the block!”

“Luke that’s amazing!” You knew he was struggling a lot lately, that was one of the main reasons you checked up on him more often this past few weeks “Omg, I can’t wait to hear it!”

Luke nodded and wasted no time in starting playing his new song.

“I thought I had it all, thought I let you go. But truth be told, I’m just a fool in a one man show”

You listened carefully to what he was saying, loving the lyrics already before you started noticing something weird in the melody… there was something familiar in it, but you couldn’t pinpoint what.

“The secrets I held. The lies I told myself. All were worth it cause it meant I get to see your face”

Once the chorus started, you knew where you’ve heard this before.

Luke was staring at you the whole time since he started singing, wanting nothing more than his best friend’s approval, but was met with your concerned face as he continued.

“I never give you away, cause I’ve already made that mistake. If-“ He stopped completely when he saw the way you were looking at him “You hate it.”

“What?” You asked, taken by surprise by his hurt face.

“You can tell me if it’s bad, you know? I won’t get mad or anything but-“

You cut him off, shaking your head as you place your hand on his thigh “No, Luke. It’s not that at all”

“Then what, Y/N?” He said, putting his guitar away from him “Cause you don’t give me that look unless you’re feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I know the lyrics need arrangements and-“

“Luke!” You interrupted his rambling one again, knowing how he gets when he’s flustered “The lyrics are fine! Everything is fine! I really liked that last line you sang. But…”

“But?”

You sighed “Let me show you something”

You took your phone out of your bag and started searching through your songs until you found what you were looking for “Please, don’t be mad” You begged with a sigh as you pressed play on one of Taylor Swift’s songs.

Luke didn’t understand what you were talking about until he heard the first few chords of the song. His eyes winded as plates as he listened to the melody he swore he just invented out of the blue, a deep disappointment came across him at the realization he just repeated a melody that someone else already created.

You paused the song when you noticed his expression change all of the sudden. The gleam in his eyes completely disappeared as a dark gloom clouded his blue irises “Luke?” You asked, but the tall blonde was already getting up and started walking out of the studio “Luke!”

You followed him into the hall, where you could catch a glimpse of him tugging on his curls and cursing to himself. You called his name again with no avail, he wasn’t listening as he drowned in self pity and embarrassment.

“I should’ve known!” He said loudly this time “Fuck! It was too good to be true”

“It’s okay, Lu-“ You tried, but he quickly turned around and cut you off.

“It’s not okay, Y/N!” He yelled, making you take a step back. It wasn’t like him to get so angry to the point of yelling, but you can’t say that you don’t understand his frustration “When is plagiarism ever okay?! I’m such a fucking idiot”

“Hey, no, no, no, no, no” You interrupted, standing on your tiptoes to grab him by his shoulders and make him look at you “You won’t talk about my best friend like that”

Luke looked away, not wanting to meet your eyes at this moment. So you took matters into your own hands, literally, and placed your palms on his cheeks, softly squeezing them together and forcing him to look at you “The song is great” You said “Yes, the melodies are similar but you can work on that. You’re Luke Hemmings for crying out loud!”

He placed his hands over yours and pushed them away in a soft movement, not letting go of you as he did “Well, Luke Hemmings can’t write a song even if his life depended on it” He sighed, more calmed now “I don’t know what to do! I don’t even know if there is something I could do”

You thought for a second “Maybe not,” You said “But there might be something we could do”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows “Huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded “I know I basically know nothing about melodies and composing a song. But I know a lot about poems and writings!” You said with a smile “I also know that you’ve been having a rough time lately and I just want to help in every way I can. I hate to see you like this, Luke. Let me help you?”

He stared at you and immediately knew that he couldn’t say no to your pleasing eyes. The fact that you wanted to help him took him by surprise, but he should’ve known, you have the biggest heart on earth and he knew he could count on you, always. Hell, you even moved to another continent to support him and his friends. You were always there for him, always taking care of him while also making fun of him and just being the best friend there is. And now you wanted to help him get over his writer's block? He could kiss you right now!

“Woah, slow down tiger” You laughed “We need to make a song first”

Did he say that out loud? Oh shit.

“I- just. Um-“ He rambled, trying to hide the pink that colored his cheeks “Thank you”

You just nodded and walked towards the kitchen, part of it because you were still hungry, but in reality it was to hide the way you couldn’t stop smiling.

“C’mon, Hems! Time to write a song”

**

You have seriously underestimated the whole writing and composing process of a song. How could Taylor Swift make it look so easy?!

It’s been almost a week and you have been staying with Luke 24/7 locked inside his little studio as you revise song idea after song idea, going back and towards without really going anywhere and only getting out to walk Petunia, eat and go to the bathroom. Once one of you gets too tired you decide to take a nap in Luke's bedroom like you always do since you were kids. None of this served as much help to calm down your feelings towards the tall Australian. In fact, you are almost sure they grew stronger than before.

You couldn’t help but get lost in him. Every subtle movement he makes; how he licks his lips and bites them every time he is concentrating on something; how his fingers move so smoothly on the guitar or the piano; how he hums to himself in that melodic voice that gives you chills everytime you listen to it… But there is also the way his eyes linger on you for more than a second; how he lays his head on your shoulder and starts playing with your hand; how he cuddles with you at night and always gives you one kiss on the cheek every morning and every night. He’s got you hooked and he doesn’t even know it.

“What do you think of this, little leech?” The oblivious man called, making you break away from your thoughts as he played some notes on the piano.

It was a sweet melody, melancholic but comforting.

“So we are settled that it’s going to be a balad?” You ask once he's done.

He pressed his lips together in a fine line “Not sure, feels like it’s missing something”

“Almost like a breakdown of other instruments, right?” You ask and he smiles.

“It’s almost like you can read my mind, love”

You smiled, hiding your blushed cheeks from his sight as your gaze drifted back to your little notebook of poems. And, almost without noticing, you start humming.

“Mmmh, Hope and I pray, darling that you will stay… butterfly lies..”

“Take them away” Luke finishes for you. He slowly gets up and sits right next to you, placing his head on your shoulders as you close your book “You’re really good with this,” He said, interlocking his fingers with yours “Why won’t you let me see more of your writings?”

He lifted his other hand to try to snatch the book out of your hands, but you were faster and put it out of his reach “Cause! It’s private” You laughed “Don’t want you to laugh at me or something”

“I could never laugh at you,” He said softly.

You turn your head to the side and almost choke on air as you notice his proximity, making you hyper aware of his breath on your lips and the way he was looking into your eyes, almost like if he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words to do it.

“Luke, I-“ You said in a whisper, his eyes fixed on your lips as he hummed “I- I think I’m a little bit hungry…” You lied, not knowing exactly what to do.

Luke just looked at you and nodded, not hiding his disappointment as he separated himself a little bit so you could both head out to the kitchen. Once there, he went to the stereo and connected his phone so you could have a more relaxing atmosphere.

You started making dinner, nothing too elaborate but complicated enough so you could focus on that rather than what just happened between you two. You knew you were just friends to him, so this new change in his demeanor was surprising and confusing to say the least.

Suddenly, your favorite song started playing. It was an old jazz song that reminded you of home and soon enough you found yourself humming along.

Luke stared at you as you prepared the meal, completely awestruck as he heard you sing softly along the lyrics. He smiled to himself and walked up to you, offering you his hand before asking: “Dance with me?”

You chuckled as you took his hand and let him guide you to the living room. He placed his hand on your lower back as he held your palm with the other one. You placed your free hand on his shoulder and let him guide you through the melody, already feeling the beating of your heart go ten times faster than it should.

You softly placed your head on his chest, relaxing as you felt the vibrations of his soft voice singing along as you slowly danced together.

“I like this” He murmured while his hand caressed your back and his chin rested on your head, placing a little kiss to it.

“Me too”

**

You got out of the shower and put on one of Luke’s shirts, ready to get on the bed and let all your thoughts rest for the day as you drift to sleep. You sighed as you looked in the mirror and tried to calm your feelings down, hoping that this time your heart will listen.

You headed to Luke’s room, wanting nothing more than to lay down and relax. But you never expected to see what you saw.

When Luke noticed that you had came into the room he quickly closed your notebook and placed it on your side of the bed, hoping that you didn’t realize what he was doing.

“Luke, what the fuck!?” You asked in an angry tone as you walked to the bed and grabbed your notebook in your hands “I told you this was private! How could you betray my trust like that?!”

Luke looked terrified, he never liked you angry, especially if you were angry at him. He tried to speak, but you quickly turned around and started grabbing all your things and put it in the bag you brought to stay over.

“Wha-What are you doing?” He asked confused.

“I’m going home” You said in a huff, turning around to put on your leggings and shoes.

“What?!” Luke jumped from his side of the bed and almost ran to you “Y/N, please. I’m sorry! I didn’t know it meant that much to you!” You ignored him “Please don’t go! It was a mistake, I’m sorry!”

You glared at him “I asked you not to do it! God, Luke! This is a total invasion of my privacy. Best friends don’t do that to each other!”

You tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your arm and made you stop “Well best friends tell each other everything, don’t you think?!” Now he seemed angry as well.

“What haven’t I told you?!”

Luke rolled his eyes, letting go of your arm “Uh, I don’t know! Maybe the fact that you are in love with someone and you didn’t tell me?!”

You were taken aback by his words, furrowing your brows in confusion. He took your silence as a sign to continue.

“The poems, the writings you have there… They are beautiful and heartbreaking, Y/N” He explained, much more calmed “All those words are impossible to write unless you feel what you are writing. The message is right there, clear as water and you didn’t want me to read it. Why?”

His blue eyes seemed like a storm when he looked at you. You could tell he was hurting from all of this, couldn’t he tell who those writings are for?

“Why do you think? You blabbering idiot?” You asked softly, eyes meeting the floor, hoping he got the message.

Luke’s whole demeanor softened and he took in your words. His heart was beating fast as he took two steps to be completely in front of you.

He cupped your cheeks into his hands and made you look at him, telling you everything you need to know with just one look.

“Luke-“ He didn’t have you time to respond as he captured your lips with his, making you drop your stuff to the ground as you started kissing him back.

You placed your hands on the back of his head, softly caressing his curls as he deepened the kiss, parting your lips so he could explore your mouth as he wished for so many years now and making you let out a soft moan as he did so.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this” He said, kissing you once again “I thought I was being too obvious”

You chuckled “Well, not obvious enough, Hemmings” You pecked his lips one more time.

He smiled into the kiss as he let his hands wander down your back, softly squeezing your ass as he started walking you towards the bed, letting you fall delicately as he hovered over you.

You whimpered as you felt his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and leaving marks wherever he went.

“Luke, what-?” You moaned, tangling your fingers around his curls and pulling him up to meet your gaze “What does this mean for us? What does this make us?”

Without wasting a breath he said confidently “I want to make you mine, love. If you let me, would you be mine? And I’ll be yours”

You looked at him in the eyes and you swore you’d never fallen harder than this.

You nodded “I was always yours, my love”

Luke smiled as he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, bringing your lips together in a kiss filled with love, passion and need. All that you guys ever wanted from each other.

You could feel his other hand wandering around under your/his shirt, softly caressing your breast and making you moan.

“Can I take this off, love?” He asked, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nodded and wasted no time in getting rid of the fabric, throwing it somewhere around the room before his lips started marking his way down your neck again, this time with hunger as he trailed down from your throat to your breast, kissing one of them as his hand massaged the other, switching from time to time so none of them gets neglected for long.

Your soft moans and whimpers were music to his ears as he felt his erection growing harder with every little breath that came over your mouth. You could feel his erection through his pants, making you groan as you moved your hips to get some kind of friction where you needed it the most.

Luke noticed your little desperate movements and smirked as he let his hand travel down your stomach, ghosting over your sensitive bund over your clothes.

“Is this okay?” He asked when his fingers started pulling down the waistband of your leggings and panties.

“Yes,” You whimpered “Yes, Luke. Please”

You lifted your hips to help him take off your clothes completely, leaving you naked under him.

Luke sucked on a breath and moaned once he got a glimpse of your naked body “So perfect” He whispered, kissing your forehead “So beautiful” He kissed your lips, only to continue kissing down on your body till he reached your aching pussy “So wet for me, my love” He moaned before placing a kiss on your clit, making you thrust your hips at the sudden touch.

He grabbed your hips and pin them down as he started fucking into you with his tongue. Sucking and licking at all the right spots in a rhythm that made you see stars.

You grabbed onto his curls and brought him closer to you. Moaning his name over and over again “Luke,” You pant “I need more, Luke. Please”

Luke got the message as he added a finger to his ministrations, pumping in and out of your entrance “Is this good, Y/N?” But his question was answered by a sinful moan of yours “Talk to me, love” He said, adding another finger.

“Fuck! So good, Luke” You moaned, letting your head fall on the soft pillow “So. Fucking. Good”

He continued to pump his fingers into you at a fast pace while his mouth was locked on your clit, sucking and licking it with delight like it was his favorite meal. Groaning as he felt you clench around his digits when he hit one special spot inside you “Are you close, beautiful?”

You whimpered and nodded in return, not being able to form a coherent sentence at this moment of pure ecstasy.

“Cum for me, my love” He said, kissing the inside of your thigh and speeding his pace “Cum all over my fingers” And so you did.

Luke groaned as he felt your juices drip past his fingers and onto the mattress, swearing that he’s never seen such a prettier sight than your face right now.

You whined as he pulled his digits out of you, but the tight knot in your belly grew as you heard him pulling out his pants and sliding back between your legs.

His face was mere inches from yours once he settled back on the bed and on top of you. You smiled.

“Hi” You said, trying to catch your breath after your first orgasm.

“Hey” He smiled, kissing your forehead and pressing his against yours “Are you sure you want this?” He asked “Its okay if you don’t and we can stop whenever you-“

You shut him off with a kiss “I want this” You said in a whisper “I want you”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly he started sliding into you, making you both moan because of the stretch.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping when he saw your face wincing in pain.

You nodded “So big, need a minute” You said. Luke understood and started pepper kissing your face, not leaving any space untouched until you gave him the go-to to keep going.

Luke groaned as he bottom down, giving you a minute to get used to his length. You were moaning his name as you felt him deep inside you, quickly replacing the pain with pleasure.

“Move. Please, Luke” You begged.

He started moving his hips at a slow pace, not wanting to hurt you if he went too hard too fast. It was only when you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer to you that he got the message.

“Faster, fuck. Please, go faster!” You moaned into his ear. Every little sound you made going straight to his cock, quickening the pace as he started fucking you fast and rough.

Your moans became higher pitch as you got closer and closer to your climax. Your nails ran down his back, leaving red trails for you to trace later.

“Fuck, Y/N” Luke groaned “I’m so close, love”

His hips started thrusting relentlessly, chasing his climax as well as yours, making the bed hit the wall with every thrust of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum” You moaned with every move of his hip “I’m gonna cum, Luke. Oh god”

You let out a pornographic moan as you felt your walls clench around his cock, letting go all over him as you tried to catch your breath in all your euphoria.

Soon enough you felt Luke’s thrusts become sloppy and harder, twitching inside you as he painted your walls with his release as he moaned your name over and over again.

He grabbed your cheek and pulled your face closer to him so you could kiss as you ride down your highs, whispering sweet praises to each other as he pulled out of you and cuddled you close.

“That was…”

“I know”

You both laughed softly as Luke kissed your cheek and got up to bring a warm cloth to clean you up and also grabbing a shirt so you could sleep more comfortably. He laid down beside you and pulled you closer to him, kissing the shell of your ear until you both drifted to sleep.

You woke up a couple of hours later, feeling the other side of the bed cold as ice. You looked for Luke around the room but were unable to find him. The wheels in your head started turning as you looked around the room, that’s when you heard the soft sound of the piano playing in the background.

With a shake of your head you got up and started making your way to the grand piano he had in his living room and, sure enough, Luke was sitting there writing the song.

“Inspiration struck?” You asked, making him jump at the sound of your voice.

He visibly relaxed as he saw you walk up to him in nothing but his shirt “Needed to write it down” He said, kissing your lips as you sat next to him.

You looked at the music sheets he got scattered around “You almost finished? How?”

“Turns out I just needed my muse by my side. Admitting my love for her was the only thing I needed to finally get everything right again”

You blushed at his words and pulled him closer for another kiss “Will you sing it to me?” He nodded.

“Lover of mine..”

Tag: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof

[votederpycausemufins]

Welp, this fic i thought i wasn’t even going to continue is now longer at 17 chapters than War in Hermittown which was 26 chapters. And I’m not done here yet! (WiHT ended with 56,719 words. SF was at 55,597 last chapter, and this one is over 3k words, putting it to at least 58k total)

tagging time! @petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel are you guys proud of me?

Xannes and Tommy turned their weapons on Theseus. “How’d you find this place bitch?” The hels copy just rolled his eyes before gesturing over to Dream. “What, you were tracking him?”

“He’s an admin using a console. Find the console, find the admin.” Theseus replied, which confused Tommy. “Right, you wouldn’t know about that, would you.”

Tommy glanced back to Xannes. “Any clue what he’s talking about?”

“Yes. Before command blocks, datapacks, plugins and autofill commands, a lot of admins would default to consoles. These days most people tend to ignore them, but there are some benefits. Though the negatives usually make it seem like the worst option.”

“Why’s that?”

“Admins have better control over everything else. A console is more powerful and capable of much more, but it’s disconnected from the admin. It tends to be stationary in the world and needs to be hidden, and while there are ways to make them moveable, it’s usually not worth the hassle.”

Theseus smiled. “Oh look who’s not as much of an idiot as they seem. Another question then. Why are you still getting in the way? You want those scraps of metal? Take them. He’s the one I’m after.” And he pointed at Dream.

“You haven’t fucking told us why though.” Tommy crossed his arms.

“You didn’t really need to know.” Theseus said before sighing and taking off his mask. “But if that’s the only thing that’ll make you let me through, fine. Nightmare’s dead in my world. I killed him myself. Used up his three lives.”

“You guys still have the three lives system? I thought everything in hels was… y’know, worse?” Tommy asked.

“Oh it is. Exactly why I want Nightmare back.”

There was silence save for the continued sound of weapons banging off each other. “You… you want to what?”

Theseus shrugged. “The bitch never really got what was coming to him. Sure it’s the NSMP, and it’s technically named after him, but his name is based on a concept. He’s not the one in charge, he just made a place where nightmares can become reality. He just never got that chance because he’s dead. And with how hels works, he can’t come back. That is… unless I can bring Dream back with me.”

“That seems like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” Xannes spoke up. “There’s no guarantee how that will work, especially since he was an admin. You’re setting yourself up for a disaster for both your world and this one.”

“And so what? I die? If I can’t do this right, why bother sticking around.”

“Then I might die too bitch!” Tommy yelled at his copy. “And I definitely don’t want to go out just like that.”

“Plus there are other people linked here.” Xannes spoke, pulling up commands. “Now, you’re going to want to stop, or I’m going to have to attack.”

“Oh please, what can you do?”

“My brother is known as the best admin of all time. Which meant I needed to be the best hacker.” Xannes smiled behind his mask. “And with Prof and NPG around, I haven’t gotten to try anything out in a while, so I’m going to really enjoy this.”

Tommy could almost feel the danger that was Xannes before he moved. He swung his sword once, and even though Theseus was more than ten blocks away, it was like the blade had hit him. He then pulled out a crossbow along with his sword, managing to duel wield the weapons. And then even though the second weapon kept being fired, it seemed to always be filled with ammo, not giving Theseus any rest from attacks, not to mention the fact that it was also multishot.

Tommy used that as a chance to run over to the bots. “Alright you two, I don’t care what the fuck’s been going on with you two, you need to fucking stop before you kill each other.”

“He deserves to die!” Jrum shouted, not looking away from his brother. 

“Jrum, I’ve told you about the guy that kinda isolated and manipulated me? The one Big G compared to Sam?”

“Yeah, and Grum’s just as bad!” Jrum said before attempting to attack again, instead just getting pulled back by Tommy.

“No! No he isn’t! That guy Grum’s been stuck with? That green bitch right there? That’s the fucker who was messing with me! And now he’s been doing it to Grum.”

“Yeah right.” Jrum crossed his arms, and Tommy slapped the back of his head, wincing as pain coursed through his body from damaging the vines. It caused the teen to flinch back, making the bottles in his inventory clank together.

Hearing the bottles made Tommy remember what he had on him. He had no clue how well the water worked, but right now it was better than nothing. He pulled them out and smashed them on top of Jrum’s head like a water balloon, the water covering Jrum and getting into his mechanics. It caused a short circuit and it seemed to fry the vines from within, but also Jrum. As the circuitry within him sparked, it damaged the vines, causing even more damage to Jrum, until it killed him.

“NO! JRUM!” Tommy yelled, freaking out about having just killed someone in his family. Beside him, Grum just stared at the place where Jrum had been standing a minute ago, the body having dissolved into smoke. 

Life Counter active. Entity Check Jrumbot. Death: canon. Life counter: 1 life remaining. Commence respawn. Respawn complete.

Teleport Requested. Assessing. Assessing. Allowing Teleport. Entity Jrumbot Teleported to Deathpoint coordinates.

Just like that, Jrumbot reappeared. He wasn’t completely covered with the vines, but he still retained the single vine around his antenna and his screen was still a red color. “Oh thank goodness, I thought you might have had a single life left.”

“Well now I do, no thanks to you!”

When Tommy had yelled, Xannes looked away from his fight. Theseus was able to finally close the distance and attack Xannes without the helsmit protecting himself, but he didn’t need to, the hacks keeping him from taking damage. “He’s using a console…”

Theseus tried attacking Xannes again. “Yeah, we covered that already. Why’s it soooo surprising now?”

“Because the console is Grum.”

That made Theseus scoff. “Wasn’t it obvious? It’s a computer that’s always near Dream. It’s essentially a console with fewer drawbacks. Even more powerful than a regular console too.”

When Theseus said that, Tommy turned his anger on Dream. “Ohhh, I can’t fucking believe you. I mean, that is an absolute child. At least with me, I was older, practically an adult, but he hasn’t even had a birthday and you decided to mess with him! As if you didn’t have a death wish already! I mean, guess that’s why you got everyone blocked. What if I just asked Grum to unblock everyone, what then?”

“And what? Just let Phil and Techno back in? What would that help with?”

“Oh please, you know their dad would be the first one in. Doesn’t that scare you?” Tommy asked with a smirk, though it fell in a few moments. “Wait do you actually not know who their dad is?”

“Just because he’s supposed to be another one of your brothers doesn’t mean anything. They’re hardly something I can’t deal with.”

“Can’t deal wi- Dream! Their dad is Grian! You know, the guy who literally has the name Dreamslayer? Like that’s part of his legal name at this point.” Tommy could tell when it got through to Dream, because he pressed back in his invisible prison just a bit and started looking for some possible way out.

He ended up snapping his fingers at Grum. “Hey, get me out of here.” And then Grum processed the information and teleported Dream a couple blocks to his left, freeing him from the barrier blocks.

“Oh shit. Xannes! He got o-” Was all Tommy was able to say before he was pressed against a wall, feet no longer touching the ground and him left struggling for air.

“You know, I could kill you right here. It would be easy. But for all I know, you come back as a ghost. So I’ve got a better idea. Just to make sure that if you do come back, it hurts even more. Grumbot?” He looked over at the robot, who immediately made its way over to Dream’s side. He handed it a netherite axe with the word ‘Nightmare’ etched into the metal. 

“No, c-come on Grum. You c-can’t do th-this.” Tommy did his best to get the words out. “Pl-Please… c-can you l-let everyone in a-at least.”

“Oh come on. He’s loyal to me. Why would you think-”

“That command is protected and requires a password to access.”

For a moment, Tommy lost all hope, but in a moment of clarity, he realized that Dream didn’t know Grum would say anything. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be a password. Yeah, Tommy could be wrong, but there was still a chance. “M-Mumbo for Mayor…” He choked out, and immediately Grumbot started processing the password, then accepted it.

“Blacklist disabled.”

“Kill Tommy!” Dream yelled in anger. And then Tommy was hit by the axe. Once. Twice. And then a third and final time.

Life Counter active. Entity Check TommyInnit. Death: canon. Life counter: no lives remaining. No respawn applicable.

No. 

Commencing Respawn. Respawn complete.

Teleport Requested. Assessing. Assessing. Allowing Teleport. Entity Tommy Teleported to Coordinates X-3, Y-3, Z-3. Returning inventory contents.

Tommy was holding his chest, panting to catch his breath. He was so sure he was dead. But no. Here he was, away from Dream and still with all his gear. That had probably been Xannes saving him, and healing him as well based on his current level of health.

For a moment, Tommy wanted to rush back in there, but then he remembered. The blacklist had been disabled. People could get in. He pulled out the communicator and sent a message to Grian, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. Then he put it away and tried to go back over to the bots, but his legs were shaky, and in just trying to take one step, he fell to the floor.

Even though he wasn’t close to death, he could still feel himself fading while at the same time it felt like everything was happening at once. Every sound seemed louder, what little breeze there was felt like pins and needles. And he just felt tired. As his vision went in and out, he saw Jrum rush off. Then Theseus stopped fighting and went after Dream. Then the three of them were gone. Then he was up in the air, something picking him up.

Finally, he felt the buzz of his communicator, and everything went dark.

The moment Grian got the message from Tommy, Grian made a Watcher portal straight to the SMP. The others nearby were slightly surprised that it was to let them follow along, but they weren’t arguing. Tubbo was the first to go through, Phil and Techno following behind. Grian was about to be right behind them, but was stopped by a hand. “You’re not keeping me from going Mumbo.”

“I know that. I wasn’t going to.” The redstoner spoke before taking Grian’s hand. “You’re the one always jumping into things, and that’s mostly a good thing. But this is something I don’t want to be left out of, so whether you like it or not, I’m coming with.”

“What? Did you think I was going to leave you behind? I wasn’t going to close the portal behind me. I was hoping you would come too, I was just letting you decide.”

“Good. ...So, do we want to…?” Mumbo started to say before he was yanked towards the portal as Grian ran through it, dragging him along.

When they arrived on the other side, Phil was the only one nearby, sitting down next to the portal. “Hey. Before you ask, I volunteered to wait while the other two went off in their own directions. That was only a few minutes ago. Haven’t heard anything back from them.”

Grian nodded. “I’m going to try contacting Tommy. Mumbo, those coordinates Tommy forwarded to me before? Can you check them out?”

“Definitely.” Mumbo nodded, pulling out his own communicator and checking the coordinates and which was to go to reach them.

“I’ll see if I can find anyone who could give us information.” Phil offered before immediately leaving, leaving Grian alone.

Alright, if I were one of the kids or Tommy… where would I be?” Grian asked himself, looking around before spotting something red in the distance. “Oh hello there. What’s that?” He quickly got into the air, flying over instead of trying to cross the rough terrain. “Tommy did send something about Jrum and red plants, didn’t he?” Grian bent down to try and touch the stuff, but was surprised when it seemed to move away. 

A voice spoke and then Grian was left looking around, trying to spot who had spoken. “What do you mean don’t touch it? I’m trying to find my kid and the best lead I have right now are these things.” Then he was left looking around again. “Oh, if that’s the case, then why not ditch the invisibility potion and meet me face to face?” Another short bout of silence and then Grian growled slightly, clenching his fists. “Then maybe I will.” And he started following the moving plants, the vines moving to almost create a path as they parted near him.

They snaked into an underground room and then down a thin tunnel. Grian had a little trouble getting through with his wings, not wanting to shift them away in case he ended up needing them suddenly. When he finally reached the end, he was greeted by what was obviously two teams of people fighting. One group was all in purples meanwhile the other group had a mix of colors, but there were a lot of reds and whites.

When it didn’t look like anyone noticed him, Grian moved forward a bit, cleared his throat, and then shouted. “HEY!” Immediately everyone froze and looked over at him. “Excuse me, I’m sure you’re having a lovely war and all, but I’m looking for my kids. The two of them are about… these heights and are adorable little robots.”

“Are you saying you’re one of Jrum’s parents?” Someone in a black and white cloak said, and Grian nodded at them.

“Yeah. Is he here? Or do you at least know where he is?” Grian asked, before the person attempted to attack him. Immediately his wings moved to act as a quick shield. “I’m guessing that’s a yes, but you don’t want me around.” Grian pulled out his sword. “Eh, I was expecting an ambush anyway.”

But before another attack could happen, the voice from before spoke, seemingly to the cloaked person. “So what?! He abandoned his kid! If that were true he would have shown up!”

“Hey, I tried getting in. Your admin just found a way to keep me out until now. Now, are you going to listen to your friend and tell me where Jrum is, or are you going to fight?”

The incoming sword worked as the answer to Grian’s question and he blocked it with a shield before attacking back. The person tried moving behind some vines hanging from the ceiling, but Grian just sliced them to the ground, clearing the area. “Wait, how are you doing that?!” The person asked before Grian flew up to bash their head with the end of his shield and knock them to the ground. 

“Nooo! What are you doing!” A voice yelled out and Grian turned around to see a familiar robot running over.

“Jrum!” Grian landed, arms open for a hug, but he just pushed past his dad to run to the person now on the ground. “Wh-what?”

“Are you okay?”

“Nggh… yeah. Wait, now where have you been?”

“I got kidnapped and Grum was there and he attacked me! But now I’m fine!”

Grian looked between his son and the person he had been attacking. He had no clue why this was happening, so he looked over as some of the other people nearby, who weren’t sure how to answer him. “Oh come on, no one had any idea?” And then the invisible person spoke. “I mean I guess? He was built before the turf war, but he didn’t really take part in it. Why? Look, I just want to get my kid and leave. My resistance days are pretty much over.”

There was quiet before Grian sighed and his wings shifted away. “Fine, I’ll play along, but you better hold up your end.” And when he opened his eyes, they weren’t their normal color, nor even just bright purple from using his watcher powers. Instead, his iris and pupils seemed to be missing, replaced by grayish-purple sclera.

“Well at the very least it was a house.” Xannes grumbled as he attempted to brush off the layer of dust on the bed sitting in the corner for him to then put Tommy on. It was tough with him having to carry the unconscious teen and only really about to use a leg as a duster, which was just spreading the dust around. “Can this be any harder?!”

A door opening behind him made the helsmit groan. “That’s wasn’t a fucking request! What the fuck do you-” He turned around and saw someone familiar and thankfully wearing a red tie. “Fine. This works. You take the kid.”

Mumbo was handed Tommy and Xannes finally was able to just pick the covers up off the bed and shake them off. It left Mumbo coughing and Xannes instantly regretting it as an alert on his screen warned him about his filters, but he put the blankets back down. The redstoner set Tommy down on the bed while Xannes worked on cleaning out the dust that was now in his helmet. “What happened to him?”

“He got killed, but respawn brought him back. It didn’t seem to be the best respawn because it hit hard. From what I can tell, he wasn’t supposed to. Is this a hardcore world?”

Mumbo shook his head. “Tommy said something about them having three lives, but they only counted if they were important.”

“So he essentially just got revived instead of normally respawning. That would explain it. You should have seen the three that got revived this season.”

“That’s right, you permakill someone if they don’t return for a season, don’t you.”

“Yeah. Of course they can still exist elsewhere, but it's a type of ban in a way.”

Mumbo nodded before finally looking away from Tommy and over to Xannes. “H-Have you seen either of the boys?”

“Yes, though they’re not doing so well. You know what a console is, right?”

“Yeah.” Mumbo nodded again. “I had to use one when I was first starting out so I didn’t break everything when working with redstone. Came in handy a few times, but I’m glad not using one anymore. Is there one being used here?”

“Yeah. The admin here decided to have fun with one since he found a way to make it mobile thanks to your redstone.”

“My red- wait!” Mumbo jumped up from kneeling on the floor next to the bed. “Are you telling me he’s using one of the boys?!”

“Yeah, Grumbot. He’s extremely out of it, but Tommy was able to get him to remove the blacklist and I’m pretty sure he’s the one who revived him, so it’s not a completely lost cause. Meanwhile the other one got infected with something like crimson nylium. I’m not sure how bad your land war went, but ours got out of hard fast.”

“We had a bit of trouble near the end, but the minigame battle near the end kept things from getting too far.”

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t end up like helscraft. Most of us ended up possessed by the different nyliums for a good portion of the war. And looks like Jrum is in the same situation.”

Alright, I’ll let the others know and hope Grian notices the message.”

“How many came along with the two of you?”

“Same group that we visited with. They came from here in the first place anyway, so they’ve got a better chance finding what we need.”

“Hello? Ranboo? Are you in here?” Tubbo asked, carefully stepping into the house. They had been planning to set up the second floor for Michael when he disappeared, so hopefully Ranboo would still be living there at least a little, unless he had taken the ziglin elsewhere. 

The place was dark, all the windows closed and no torches or lanterns there to light the place up. It left Tubbo fumbling around, trying to feel his way around and wishing he had brought something for light. He tripped on something and fell to the ground, rubbing his head and hoping he hadn’t damaged anything. Then suddenly, something lit up, and Tubbo froze.

He had looked behind him to try and see if he could tell what had tripped him. He could barely make out the outline of a foot. Following up, it led up to a glowing screen with a smiley face plastered on it. Just behind that, Tubbo could also see two glowing magenta eyes from an enderman standing behind the robot. 

Before Tubbo could ask any questions, a voice came from elsewhere in the dark room. “You know. As far as everyone knows, you're dead. How about we keep it that way?”

[thegreatobsesso]

A longer bit feat.: Callie and Simon angst. :)

Talking with @drippingmoon got me thinking of some cornerstone scenes in the enemies-to-friends slow-burn I do with these two idiots and this one, I think, stands out as the dead-center point, so I’m gonna not second-guess myself and just post it. 🥴

Tagging @thelaughingstag too! (I remembered!)

Context: Callie broke into Delaney to steal an ancient magical artifact and, believing she meant nothing but harm, Simon stopped her. But while waiting for the cops to come and drag her back to prison, Simon asks her to just tell him the truth, once and for all. Callie agrees to let him read her mind all the way back to the beginning, thinking she’s got nothing left to live for. Simon gets hit with a truckload of tragic backstory he wasn’t prepared for and is asked to follow them back to Downing Bay, the prison she’s being held in.

They’re still mentally connected, even after Simon has let go. He can hear her, and she can hear him too, which definitely isn’t normal.

Word count: 3,200

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failure. failure. failure

She wasn’t even doing this on purpose and it wasn’t just the word reverberating through his skull.

More like a full-bodied feeling flooding his consciousness as he left Delaney, a steady stream of self-hatred punctuated only by expletives.

Stop, he begged her.

i can’t, you stop listening

I can’t.

She laughed, out loud in her cell. He heard it and felt it, over the miles that separated them, the ocean and metal and glass.

He’d overextended; that’s what caused this. It took him awhile to put it together because he’d been so upset - maybe even been in a mild state of shock, in retrospect - and he spent a lifetime being so careful with his powers that he’d never done it before to know what it was like.

And so that was bad, yes, but come on. How much longer could it last?

He was stepping onto the boat to Downing Bay when the pain started - hers, and not the torrent of existential agony he was struggling to adjust to but pain, physical and substantial.

What’s happening? he tried to ask, but it got lost - she could barely think, suddenly, let alone focus on sending him mental telegrams.

The cluster of metal buildings hovered threateningly on the horizon, and as they got closer, minds inside got louder, almost drowning Callie out. He wanted to tell them to turn around and take him away; the claustrophobia was overwhelming, the collective sense of being trapped.

The boat brought them underneath the smallest building; a scorched sign read Diagnostics in block letters with an arrow pointing up. What might’ve once been a loading dock was sectioned off with caution tape and hanging sadly down into the water, barely still attached to the rest of the infrastructure. They laid a make-shift bridge between the boat and platform to walk across.

Once inside, they asked him to empty his pockets and leave all his belongings in a small box.

“This stays with me,” he said, holding his Headmaster’s key, bronze and solid, in the palm of his hand.

“No, sir,” said the tired corrections officer, unaware of who he was. “All belongings.” She shook the plastic container for emphasis, rattling the rest of his stuff around.

“I’m the headmaster of Delaney of School for Magicians,” he said. “This is a master key and it doesn’t leave my neck. If you need to call your superiors about it, please do it, but I won’t leave it here.”

A few minutes later, he put the chain back around his neck, dropped the key down inside his shirt, and was escorted inside.

“No one’s suppressed me yet,” he said to one of prison officers. He waited until the last second; surely they knew their own duties better than he did. He didn’t wanna insult anyone, but they hadn’t done it and they were bringing him though thick, reinforced doors to the warden’s office and if not now, when?

“We’ve not been asked to, sir. This way.”

The warden smiled when Simon entered his office, waved everyone else away. He introduced himself as Warden Prescott and extended his hand - it was thin and cold when Simon shook it, despite the muggy warmth.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said. “How fares your school?”

“It’s seen worse. It looks like she hit this place harder, to be honest.”

The warden smiled, and Simon caught an image of a collection, varying people with differing characteristics on display in tiny boxes, one of them out of place. “Yes, she put on quite a show on her way out. Destroyed all our boats and did a significant amount of superficial damage, but nothing structural, thankfully.”

Of course not - living her memories alongside her showed him she made sure she didn’t hurt anyone, only crippled their ability to pursue her.

It was too warm in here and he wondered how the warden could be so buttoned up in thick polyester when he had to unbutton his own light jacket.

“A hearing will take place tomorrow morning and your presence will be required,” he began. “I suspect I know at least  part of the reason why. News reached my ears that you behaved quite badly.” He made a tsk-tsk sound and shook his head at Simon like he was a naughty child.

“I did what I did,” he said flatly. “I shouldn’t have read her mind, and I accept the consequences for it, whatever they’ll be.”

“Oh, I meant absolutely no disrespect,” the warden said. “The opposite, in fact. I daresay if I had your powers, I’d like nothing more than to take a stroll through that mind of hers. She’s an interesting one. The fact that you did so might work to our advantage, in fact. You see, we’re in a bit of a bind with all this. May I speak plainly?”

“I wish you would,” he said. The warden was carrying his collection of dolls in his mind, all unique and valuable and distinctly dehumanized, and Callie’s thoughts were still flowing like a steady IV drip, making him feel irritable and short.

“Well, Mister Bennett, the facts are as such: we’ve got a limited testimony from you that the authorities will need expanded upon, that says you’ve seen the original crime in the first person, and your account differs wildly from the one she’s given. There are additional crimes stacked up past that - her escape from prison and attempted theft of an undisclosed item from your school. And the world wants to know how an infamous killer managed to become the first person in history to escape Downing Bay.”

“It’s a valid question for them to ask.”

“With an undesirable answer. But I think you’re in pain, Mister Bennett. Do you need a doctor?”

He was, but it wasn’t his own injuries that made wince.

“It’s her,” he groaned. “You’re hurting her, what are you doing?”

The warden sighed. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

He took Simon down the hall, into a sterile room filled with recording equipment and a solid wall of glass. On the other side of the it, Callie. She sat a bare table in prison scrubs, hands cuffed to its surface. IVs were inserted in both her arms, the needles taped down, liquid flowing from bags hanging behind her. The metal collar around her neck flashed blips of red, yellow and green, reminding him absurdly of a Christmas tree.

She bit her lip and shuffled restlessly, an involuntary response to the pain she was trying to ignore.

“You’ve got to stop this,” he said.

“To be fair, this isn’t what diagnostics usually looks like,” the warden said while he swallowed down a wave of sickness. “Typically, we focus on finding a long-term suppressive solution that both nullifies abilities and has minimal side effects for the prisoner. We are, unfortunately, in disaster minimization mode rather than long-term maintenance with your friend here.”

This was the strain being put on her body - the combination of every drug known to medicine that could hold back the expression of magic for any amount of time at all. “She’s not my friend,” he muttered. “Isn’t this unethical?”

“Should we allow all her power to rush back in so she can kill my people and escape again?”

“She’s not killing anyone,” Simon said with certainty.

“That’s not what she said a few hours ago,” the warden recalled. “We had no less than five guards trying to process her and she threatened their lives.”

Dammit. “What we you doing to her?”

“Attempting to place her segregation.”

He resisted the urge to groan in frustration, to punch the glass in front of him. “She didn’t mean it,” he muttered, not relishing the job of being her translator. “She’s terrified of solitary confinement, she just didn’t wanna go.”

“That’s unfortunate, given that we can’t very well place her back into general population. This is all that’s left, a quarantine unit, meant for contagious disease.”

On the other side of the glass, Callie squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head. A fresh wave of pain ran over him too.

how much longer, how much more?

“How long can you keep this up, these stop-gap measures? Surely they won’t work forever.”

Warden Prescott raised his eyebrows. “These measures aren’t even working very well, Mister Bennett. I daresay if she wanted to, she could be gone before nightfall. I’m afraid she’s only here at her pleasure.”

Pleasure? He looked back at her in the next room, her face contorted. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” Warden Prescott said, with a small smile. “We’re in the dark here, fumbling through uncharted territory without a map. She’s got my best techs feeling like children when they try to interpret the results of all this treatment. She’s a thing that isn’t supposed to exist: a hybrid. Focused magic and Eclectic, all at once.”

The implications of the warden’s words began to stack up in his already overtaxed mind and part of him thought, ridiculously, of a vacation. Of sitting on a beach with a book getting a suntan, drinking something with a slice of pineapple on the rim, smoking a cigarette or two or fifty - of not having a care in the world, for just a little while.

A hybrid, then. Focused and Eclectic.

He’d walked through her life with her and even she didn’t understand that, not really, not in such terms. She, and everyone else who knew what she’d done to Peter, had thought of it like an acquisition of new powers; not a fundamental genetic change.

Did Riley know this? Riley, who gathered Callie’s DNA and did extensive testing on it, who still had it?

“Has anybody been in touch with the family?” he asked, unwilling to explain why he was asking.

“I know someone’s reached out,” the warden said. “I don’t believe there was any reply.”

No, he supposed not. Riley would want nothing to do with any of this. Still, she had to be sweating, didn’t she? How could she know Callie still held up her end of their deal?

“I wonder,” Warden Prescott drawled, “if your trip through her mind was quite so extensive that if she were back inside your school, right now, you’d trust her not to hurt anyone.”

“It was,” he said. “And I would.”

He couldn’t imagine this would be easy for anyone else to swallow. He certainly wouldn’t believe it himself without first-hand insight. “I want to talk to her.”

The warden nodded his assent at the guards lining the wall.

“As I said, everyone wants to know how she managed to escape,” he said, walking Simon around to the entrance of the adjacent room that held Callie. “The thing I’m most curious about it why she even waited so long to do it. Is that something you know, from your jaunt through her mind?”

“Yes.”

“Are you inclined to share?”

He decided earlier, definitively, that he didn’t like the warden: the way he looked at his inmates like specimens, pinned inside a case. “No,” he said.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “Although you might be asked tomorrow, by someone more powerful than me, in a much more formal capacity. We’ll be leaning on your expertise considerably to entangle that mind of hers.” He shook his head in admiration. “The unsuppressable Callie Ray.”

“I wouldn’t toss that around,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

The guard undid a stack of locks on the quarantine room door. “I don’t want her hearing it,” he said as they pushed the door open. “She’ll like it too much.”

—

Little black cameras dotted the corners of the room; he knew the warden would be listening on the other side of the glass where’d they’d just come from, and he was certain they were being recorded too.

She lifted her head, smirked at the sight of him. “I’d say hello,” she said, her voice scratchy. “But it’s like I never left you, isn’t it?”

She looked awful. Her red-rimmed eyes matched her hair; one was still swollen, decorated in bruises. “I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this.” He gestured between his head and hers.

he just says it, just like that

“Did you get a good spanking for it? I’m sure nobody expected that from their golden boy.”

Her words were hollow to him now; they washed over him uselessly and left him thoroughly unimpressed. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite her at the steel table, mirroring her position with his hands folded in front of him, except for the absence of cuffs, obviously.

We could talk like this, he said, if you don’t want them to listen.

A jumbled negative reply came across their connection. He nodded.

“There’s a whole team of people on the other side of the door, trying to figure out the best ways to keep your magic suppressed on a minute-to-minute basis,” he said.

“Can you believe it?” She tried for a smile, but it was poorly constructed. “All this for little old me.”

“Well, you’ve convinced the world you’re a dangerous monster and now you’re being treated like one. You did this to yourself.”

“Did you hear me complaining?”

Another wave of gnawing pain; she was sweating, her jumpsuit damp in the armpits. It hit him too, surely just a fraction of what it felt like for her, and he’d already had enough.

“Just tell them,” he said. “Tell them what I know, that it was an accident from the start and you don’t wanna hurt anyone else, and they might let up.”

“I don’t want them to,” she said, voice strained, hanging onto composure by a thread. “I like the pain.”

if I’m in pain I’m getting what I deserve I don’t have to feel guilty

He’d never felt a mind twisted up into knots like this, how did it get this way?

“Is that why you’re still here?” he asked. He looked toward the glass where he knew Warden Prescott was still standing, watching and listening. “They know you’re letting this happen. That if you wanted to, you could stop it.”

She blinked; a powerful emptiness surged up inside her. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question - she was interested in an answer if he had one, but he didn’t. He lived her life alongside her in a compressed whirlwind of tightly-packed failures and she had no family to take her in, Delaney certainly wouldn’t have her, there were no relationships, no friends…

He pulled back; it hurt to be near.

“Just because you say you’re not gonna try to escape again…” He fumbled, trying to lay out the mess. “They still can’t hold you on your word, Callie. You’ve got the public frightened that Downing Bay can’t hold you and the authorities are scared you’re gonna prove it.”

She nodded and winced; something crossed her mind too quickly for him to get a good look. “What are they gonna do to me?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think they do either.”

“Why don’t they just kill me?”

The way she said these things - it was infuriating. “They can’t just execute someone because they don’t know what else to do with them.” He narrowed his eyes like it might help him see her clearer. “Is that what you want? To die?”

She rolled it around in her head. “Not really,” she shrugged. “But I don’t really wanna live either.”

Hopelessness emanated from her; he felt her future the way she saw it, a vast, meaningless chasm of nothing. It made him want to scream.

“Don’t,” she snarled, her awareness of their connection snapping to life. “Don’t you feel sorry for me, you jackass. I don’t want your pity, I’d rather you spit in my eye.”

“I can’t help it,” he groaned. “You sit there acting like this while… it’s, it’s like two different radio stations blasting into each of my ears, I can’t think.”

She swallowed thickly, like she was nauseous. “Do you wanna know exactly how much sympathy I have for you right now?”

“No.”

“Zero,” she said anyway. “Nobody made you drill yourself your own personal pipeline into my brain.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“Oh, so sad,” she pouted, turning her bottom lip out. “You made your first mistake. Feels like shit, doesn’t it?”

he’ll tell everybody, then everyone will know how stupid, how useless, how embarrassing, and he’s listening to you RIGHT NOW, he knows it all, i wish i WAS dead so i didn’t have to, would be easier than this-

“You let me think you did it on purpose,” he bit out, too overwhelmed to hold it back. “You let me think the absolute worst of you.”

“The worst of me is the truth, the shit you know now.”

“No, it’s not. What you are is not worse than a cold-blooded killer, a, a liar, somebody I could spend the rest of my life feeling like a fool for letting in, how do you justify doing that to me?”

She shrugged, blinked slowly, helplessly, like she couldn’t believe she had to put words to something so simple. “I… the damage was done.”

He scoffed - he couldn’t help it. “It wasn’t. There was a lot more damage left to do, and you did it. You did it all.”

Anger, fresh and bitter, burned through their connection.

i was trying to fix it if you would’ve just walked away none of this would be happening i could have made it go away-

“At what cost?” he asked. It would sound like a non sequitur to everyone listening but he didn’t care. “Even if the orblex could do what you were planning, you can’t possibly predict how it would’ve worked. Did you think it would just drop you off on Christmas twelve years ago and let you start again? No one knows how Time magic works and you wanted to just unleash it. For all you know you could have ripped the world apart.”

Disbelief. how could he say something like that?

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked. A crack in her voice - a tear springing from her eye that hadn’t been there a moment before, rolling down her cheek. “You wouldn’t take that risk, Bennett? To bring him back?”

He wanted to say no, but it got stuck in his throat. She still grieved for him, as hard as he ever did, and it annihilated the space between them, blurred the final lines.

He pushed his chair back and got up - he needed a second. Not to be looking at her, not to be sharing feelings.

“Where are you going?”

are you leaving? don’t leave

He clasped his hands behind his head, breathed in and out, shut his eyes.

say something say something say something say something-

“There’s gonna be a hearing tomorrow,” he said, cutting off the flood of her thoughts she couldn’t control. “Or, not a hearing. A discussion, I guess.”

He turned to face her again; she was listening with rapt attention. She hadn’t been told yet.

“They’re gonna talk about whether there’s any kind of precedent they can fall back on for this, anything at all. I don’t know if they want me there as a witness or a human lie detector, but they asked me to stay for it and I’m staying. After that, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see you again, maybe I won’t. I have to think this-”

He gestured to the space between their heads again, at a loss for what to call it. “This’ll fade with time and distance. It’ll have to. It can’t stay forever.”

It couldn’t, could it?

[mrsparknamjoon]

07. a double-edged sword | reliability • kth

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pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 4.738 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: cursing au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: over the course of a month, tae is forced to face his feelings in order to fix things with Y/N. but will he be able to? she has some news.

A/N: a double-edged sword: a situation or course of action having both positive and negative effects. in this particular chapter i wanted to show that even when you have the best intentions at heart, things might take an inexpected turn and get you back to square one

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≡ 24 hours later ≡

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Saturday. 11pm. I was trying so hard to fell asleep but my stupid and stubborn brain only knew how to repeat Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, over and over and over and over again — it was driving me nuts.

Yoon Gi helped. He truly did. I felt so much better after talking to him but to be completely honest he stirred some shit inside me too and I wasn't sure how productive the next few days were going to be. If I can't sleep, how am I supposed to focus on work? Y/N may have quit but I was still CEO and had a lot of people depending on me.

In the dark, the light beams that came in through the bedroom window made shadows with interesting shapes and I stared at the ceiling as if it was going to give me the answers I needed.

I took a deep breath.

They say there are 5 stages to grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I already went through 3 but out of order. Does that count?

At first, I tried to bargain with Y/N. No success there. Then I went to straight denial as Yoon Gi casually pointed out how dumb and blind I have been. Now I'm getting depressed because I don't really see a way out of this. Y/N is gone.

Another deep breath.

Maybe I should go make ramen.

In the kitchen, while setting everything up, I went over different conversations I had with Y/N over the years, looking for any hint that my subconscious could have given me that I genuinely liked her. It was still weird to talk about it so openly, even in my own head. Bringing to consciousness something that was asleep, for whatever reason, was uncomfortable.

I'm not sure why I made a point of burying the possibility inside me. Maybe because I believed she hated me (but if she hated you so much, why did she go to work for you?), maybe because I thought she didn't have time for a relationship (she didn't have time because you loaded her with work, idiot) or it was because I was simply afraid (this seems like the most logical option, congratulations). The dialogue with myself went on for a while until the ramen was just the way I like it and I ate out of the pan sitting at the dinner table.

What do I really feel for her?

Is it attraction? Admiration? Lust?

What do I like about her?

If I text Yoon Gi right now will he block me? Probably.

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≡ 1 week later ≡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “You have been quiet since you got here, honey. Did something happen?” my mom asked as she calmly sliced her steak. Joining us at the table were my father, my brother, and his fiancee Hyun Jae.

“Don't tell me you lost the exclusivity deal with that Australian company” my dad sipped some of his wine while my mom gave an elusive nudge with her elbow making him almost spit his drink.

“No dad, I renewed the deal” I replied.

“So what happened?” my mom insisted, more concerned now, even making Ye Jun lookup.

“Nothing, nothing” I reaffirmed with a (fake) smile making her smile too. “Tell me about the wedding, Jun. Have you guys set the date yet?” I pointed the knife at my brother and my future sister-in-law.

“September 15th” Hyun Jae nodded sheepishly.

“Excellent! I will ask Eun Ae to block my schedule"

“Thank you, Tae” Ye Jun smiled.

“It will be here in Seoul, a classic but intimate ceremony. We are not going to invite many people, just the dearest ones” Hyun Jae explained. “Are you bringing someone?”

I think she must have asked the question that everyone there wanted to ask because the three heads immediately turned to me. My mom because she was curious, my father because he was surprised, and my brother because of Hyun Jae's boldness. Now it was his turn to nudge her with his elbow.

“You can bring someone, or not, it’s fine, we don't care” she laughed embarrassed. “I mean, we do care, you are very important, we are family…” she immediately corrected herself.

“Baby, I think he got it” Ye Jun put his hand on top of Hyun Jae's, making her stop and breathe. It was actually funny the way she blushed. My brother, poor guy, head over heels for her, admired every tiny detail on her face. They deserve each other.

“You should bring Y/N” my mom commented with a smirk as if she had said the most brilliant thing ever.

My dad looked at her a little surprised, “She's a good girl, but wouldn't she give the wrong impression?”

I didn't even have time to say anything, because my mom already intervened as if Y/N was her own daughter, “What do you mean wrong?”

“No, not like that” said my father, “She works at Vante, she is not Tae Hyung's girlfriend. People gossip, you know Soo Jin?”

“And what do you know about gossip, anyway?” my mom narrowed her eyes.

“I'm right here, guys” I remarked, “Doesn't my opinion count?”

“Right” my dad rolled his eyes at my mom and turned to me, “What do you think? Would she accept the invitation even though she only has a professional relationship with you?”

“Maybe, I'll have to ask her” I took another bite of my food. With my mouth full I can't spill out that Y/N no longer works at Vante. My father would kill me.

* * * *⠀

As I'm walking to the front door to grab my jacket and car keys after I said goodbye to my family, I hear footsteps approaching behind me. To no surprise at all, it was my mother.

“You used to stay longer, you know?” she stood beside me, snuggling to her beautiful peach cardigan. Her cheekbones had a light shade of pink and her hair was up in a ponytail. She looked so young.

“I'm sorry mom, I really have to go”

“But it's Sunday” she pouted, hugging my right arm and stopping me from putting the other side of the jacket on.

My mom had this adorable side that came out every once in a while, whenever she needed some attention. Didn't happen much, but at the same time, it made my heart grow bigger. It also made me a little bit sad too since I knew it was because she was feeling either sad or lonely.

“Yeah, I know, I wish I could but there's a lot to be done at the company and I have to prepare for a big meeting tomorrow” I (white) lied since I'm embarrassed about the actual reason why. A part of that statement was true though.

“I know that excuse all too well” my mom side-eyed me, letting go of my arm, “Your dad used to say it quite a lot”

More and more I see traits of my dad in me and I hate it. I swore from the beginning that I was going to be different. Better. Look at me treating my mom the same way he did for so many years. I'm pathetic.

“Can't you ask Y/N to help you or handle the meeting? Just this once” she pleaded, watching me put the car keys in the jacket’s front pocket, “Your brother's wedding it's in 6 weeks and I need to discuss some things with you before"

“Uh…” I paused for a second. I should have seen this question coming. “Y/N is very busy too” I shrugged nonchalantly.

My mom furrowed her eyebrows.

“Let me check my schedule” I quickly intervened, holding her by the shoulders, trying to change the subject, “I think I can come to dinner next Friday and we’ll talk about the wedding”

“Fine” she sighed in defeat.

I gave her a big box smile and a kiss on the forehead, “Okay, I gotta go now, mom”

As I was reaching for the doorknob she said, “Wait, just one more thing”

“Yeah?” I turned around.

She looked me dead in the eyes, cute attitude long gone. “Apologize to Y/N”

“W-what?” I stammered in shock.

“I don't know what you did, but just apologize” she pointed her finger at me as if I was five years old and just did something naughty.

“How did you…” I avoided her stare, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Whenever we asked about her you gave evasive answers” she said just before poking me in the chest, “And I know you"

This was my problem and I didn’t want my mom worrying about it. She had a tendency to want to solve everything for everyone and I suspect she would also like me to date Y/N. To this day, I don't know what her real intention was in insisting on hiring Y/N, but something tells me that it was love at first sight for my mother — unlike me, which was not even on the 8790th sight. If my mother could have chosen to have a daughter, I’m sure she would describe Y/N head to toe, flaws and all.

“Thanks mom but I'll find a way to fix it” I replied with a faint smile, barely holding it together. If she only knew how I was feeling inside.

“Oh, I know that, you always do” she gave me a wink, “Just remember to speak from the heart” and rubbed my chest.

“I did that. Didn't work"

“Are you sure?” she squinted her eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course!” I pulled away.

“Tae Hyung, you have a terrible way to communicate your feelings” she looked back at the living room making sure no one was close by to listen to the next part as she whispered, “and that's on me and your dad" I laughed and she returned to normal volume, “So I highly doubt you knew what you were doing”

“I asked her to stay, that I needed her there”

“Wait, why?” she grabbed my arm again and led me towards the door.

“She quit” I whispered as we crossed the threshold.

“What?” my mom shouted.

“Shh!!” I said while closing the door behind us and pulling her close to me as we walked to the driveway, “Yes, I fucked up really bad mom, but I know that if I can just talk to her one more time I'll convince her to change her mind”

“Where is she now?” my mom asked, lowering the hand that was over her mouth.

There’s no more hiding, I guess. I need to come clean.

“I don't know"

“Good God, Tae Hyung” she slapped my arm, “How in the world did you manage to lose your most devoted and talented employee?”

“By being an asshole” I confessed.

She rolled her eyes, “Lovely”

The moment we approach my car I suddenly turn around, desperation fully displayed on my face, “Can you just please keep this a secret? I'll figure something out, just don't tell dad yet”

My mom pondered for a few seconds. Not if she was going to tell my dad or not, because I knew she wouldn't do it, but what to say to me next. I could see in her eyes how worried she was and how badly she wanted to offer me some kind of solution (the family's problem solver, remember?). Instead, she just used the old-fashioned threat, “You better!”

“Now I really have to go” I gave her a hug. “I love you”

“I love you too” she squeezed me a bit tighter before taking a step back and cupping my face, “And remember: be honest. With her, and with yourself”

“I will…” I nodded, promising myself that as difficult as it was, I would try. My mom was right and that was good advice.

“And stop being an asshole” she moved her hands from my cheeks and rested them on my shoulders.

That was also another good piece of advice, although more difficult to execute, so I just laughed, “I will”

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≡ 1 month later ≡

 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Right after I got out of the shower, while still drying my hair, I noticed my phone light up and vibrate over the sink. It took me a few seconds to register the name that appeared in large letters at the top: Y/N. I threw the towel away and picked up the device as fast as I could, almost dropping it on the floor. Desperate was an understatement.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Are you at home?” she asked, which I immediately replied with a grunt which made her continue, “Can I come in? We need to talk”

The tone in Y/N's voice was serious but didn’t show anger as I thought it would; not like that day on the emergency staircase, at least. I ran over to the intercom and saw her on the camera. The request was surprising, the time even more so. It wasn't like her to show up here at my house, so whatever she had to talk about it must be urgent. Okay, Y/N was the topic of conversation, but something stirred inside me and I started to feel restless.

“Sure” I replied, pressing the button that opened the gate and ending the call right away.

She caught me so off guard and I didn't even have time to put clothes on! I was still in my bathrobe. Damn, this doesn't seem appropriate. As soon as I heard the front door open, I ran into the bedroom and put on the first outfit I saw, a set of black sweats.

Back in the living room, Y/N was sitting on the couch with her elbows resting on her thighs and her chin in her hands, swinging back and forth. Was she nervous or just bored?

“Ah, hello!” I coughed first to announce my presence, “Sorry, I just got out of the shower”

“That’s okay” she straightened up and smiled, watching me walk around the couch and sit, “I should have given you a heads up before coming and not simply show up at your doorstep”

“You are always welcome” I adjusted the glasses on the bridge of my nose, still unsure of what to say next and somewhat afraid of what she had to tell me, “Did something happen?”

Y/N took a deep breath.

Oh-oh, that doesn't sound good.

“Over the past few weeks, I thought a lot about what happened, about the things I said and, especially about the things I didn't say” she looked away, now staring at the tv on the wall in front of us. “Do you remember that acquisition in Hong Kong?”

It took me a few seconds to pinpoint the memory but I smiled when I did, “Sure, it was your first international purchase”

That day Y/N was so happy and I remember thinking ‘It's just another purchase, why is she smiling so much?’, without even considering how meaningful it must have been for her.

“Yes, but what I remember most vividly about that day was the way you treated me” her gaze now returned to me, nostalgic and a kind of sad, “I felt invincible because you believed that I could be invincible” she smiled without showing her teeth as if the memory itself was a little painful to talk about.

“I thought you knew” I replied frowning, “You always acted like you were” I chuckled and Y/N blushed.

“Apparently, we never properly recognized how alike we are and how we have influenced each other over the years, have we?” she asked.

I thought about it for a moment, “Yeah, I guess you’re right”

“Everything has always been so implicit” she nodded, “At least for me…”

“Of course, for me too. I was never big on words, you know that” I agreed.

“Maybe that was our mistake too” she observed, suddenly making me understand exactly what this conversation was about. Watching my reaction closely, she continued, “You know what I'm talking about, don't you?”

I knew, of course I did, but it is so difficult to say it out loud.

“My inability to say thank you?” I teased, trying to be funny, too much of a coward to keep going. Why am I like this? Why do I have to make things more complicated? It's so simple. She is so simple.

“I was talking about how we both took each other's trust for granted and ended up abusing certain situations, thinking it would be okay and just brushing them off when in fact the chance of us getting hurt and feeling betrayed was pretty big” Y/N shrugged, “but sure, you can be really ungrateful”

Shit.

I must have spent a lot of time staring at my feet, searching for the right words, because she took advantage of my silence to keep talking.

“Precisely because I knew you trusted me so much, it didn't even cross my mind to consult you on such a small acquisition and, at that time, very insignificant and disconnected of Min Industries, because I had done it before” she paused and glanced back at me just to make sure that I was following along. “You, on the other hand, thought that I would stay, even after I was humiliated and hurt because that wasn’t the first time that we disagreed on something and you put on a little show”

Yup, she called me on my bullshit. I really took our relationship for granted. When I think of the selfish way in which I made certain decisions or how I treated her, it almost seems like an out-of-body experience. It is as if I look at myself and couldn’t recognize the person in front of me.

“My mistake was to assume that you knew and respected me enough not to use me as a pawn in a pathetic power scheme” Y/N continued, now with a little more urgency in her voice, “And yours was that I was going to tolerate this behavior forever and quietly; a bit submissively too”

She got up and started pacing around the room, “I should have told you that your attitude bothered me but I was busy and naively waiting for that Hong Kong Tae Hyung to appear. The one who was kind, empathetic, and also funny” she seemed lost in thought but not for long. She then regained focus and asked me with bitterness in her voice, “I wanted to be your friend, wasn’t it obvious?”

“No, quite the opposite” I snapped.

“Since college”

“What?” I widened my eyes, “You ignored me in college"

“Because in the few interactions we had, you always found a way to criticize me”

“Wait, you criticized me” I said, getting up and pointing a finger at Y/N.

She watched me do this and pointed her finger back, stammering a little bit, “I-I did it because you did it first”

“I'm so confused…” I massaged my temples as I walked towards the kitchen. Water, I need water.

Y/N was right behind me. She stopped in front of the island and watched me open the fridge. “You really have no idea what's going on around you, do you? Always oblivious”

“I don’t do it on purpose, Y/N” I justified, slamming the door and opening the bottle of water. My voice came out a little harsh because of the mocking tone she had used before — I couldn't help it, this is how we communicate. She noticed.

“But it doesn't hurt any less because of it” she whispered, lowering her head and staring at the counter.

Even after I realized my reaction was exaggerated and being completely aware that this was the whole point of the conversation, I couldn't hold back the following words and kind of shouted, “Is that what you wanted to tell me? At this hour of the night? That I’m a bad person? Thanks, I got the memo”

Y/N took a deep breath, “I'll let this one slide”

Does she want to lay all the cards on the table? Great, let’s do it.

“You know what?” I started, taking a quick sip of water and closing the bottle, “I've been waiting to hear from you for over a month. I was desperate thinking that something had happened. Now you show up here, late at night, with what I thought would be an explanation or at least a productive conversation, but no” I faced Y/N, my hands resting on the cold marble, fingertips gripping the edge tightly. “What do you want?”

“To tell you straight up I’m tired” she replied without any emotion in her voice, “I'm tired of your games, trying to understand your obsession with rules, sympathizing with your family problems, giving my blood sweat, and tears for Vante, acting like your work wife, giving up quality time with my family or any possibility of personal life” she shifted the weight from one leg to the other and tilted her head a little to the side, “I just wanted you to see me as worthy”

“Worthy?” I asked.

“Worthy of your time, of your friendship, and who knows, maybe something more” Y/N ended with a humorless laugh, the kind you give after hearing something absurd or a bad joke.

“Something more?” I blinked trying to assimilate the information.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Don't try to be funny now”

“Promise I’m not” I raised both hands.

“Tae Hyung, for God's sake, the tension between us is palpable, it always has been. Can you honestly tell me you didn't feel it?” she leaned over the island and grabbed the water bottle in front of me and drank right away.

“Well, yes... I did” I scratched my head, “but you are so hard to read…”

“That's because you never bothered to get to know me. Not really” she capped the bottle and tossed it back to me, “Back in college you made sure to put up a wall between us. I don't even know you”

“What are you talking about?” I grabbed the bottle with one hand in a quick reflex, “You’re the person who knows me the best, Y/N” I pointed the bottle back at her.

“You only get that impression because we spent hours on end together, but when was the last time you told me anything personal?”

Wait, that was a valid question. When was the last time? I'm sure it wasn't that long ago. Hold on, I'll remember. It was that day... no, it was that time...

“See?” she crossed her arms, taking advantage of my inner monologue.

“We’re digressing” I walked around the kitchen, returning to the couch, “What is this worthy thing all about? Do you…” I paused as I sat down, biting my bottom lip “Do you like me?” I asked.

Y/N, still in the kitchen, laughed to herself before slapping the island's surface, “Out of everything I said, is this the part you’re focusing on?”

“Oh I'm sorry if I'm a little shocked by the ton of information you just dumped on me” I said in a sarcastic tone, getting up from the couch feeling the adrenaline running through my body, it was impossible to stay still. “It’s obvious that I had no idea that you felt so bad working at Vante, if I had known I would have done something about it. I never wanted or expected you to give up your life for me or the company, now I feel bad”

“It is what it is” she put her hands in the front pockets of the plaid maxi blazer and walked towards me.

“No, it doesn't work like that” I shook my head “It’s like you don't know the basics”

Then that's it. We reached the point of no return. With each new information Y/N revealed, more urgent was my need to make everything clear. I was scared as hell, but we had no choice. Either we talked about how we really felt or we would end our relationship for good.

“You can't come to my house and say everything you want to say and hope that I don't say anything back. The last month was a fucking nightmare for me, I replayed that night over and over in my head, dissecting all my answers and finding three new ones, because I knew I made the biggest mistake of my life” I felt like my heart was going to come out of my mouth, blood pumping in my ear, my hands were starting to sweat, “If I could go back in time, I would, but I can’t. And where were you for me to properly apologize?”

“I needed some time” she muttered.

“Yes, I understand, I don’t blame you. But now you’re here. Let's talk!”

Y/N was still standing behind the couch, her facial expression impassive, just waiting for what I was going to say next. I, on the other hand, had already taken off my glasses and moved to the front of the tv, walking back and forth in an attempt to calm down a little and choose the right set of words.

“I know I already said it, but I’m gonna say it again, I shouldn't have humiliated you in front of the shareholders, let alone questioned your trust or loyalty to me and Vante. For that and also for being an absolute jerk most of the time, I sincerely apologize”

Y/N nodded.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, drive you away, or disrespect you. You are the person I admire the most within the company. That day I saw the perfect opportunity and went for it. I thought that if I showed the shareholders that even the “boss’s favorite” didn’t have privileges, of course, they wouldn’t” I said calmly and slowly so that she had time to absorb everything.

“I am obsessed with rules because they help me find order amid chaos” I continued, “I’m terrible with surprises. I hate the feeling of helplessness that comes attached to error. My perfectionist nature limits me more than it helps and if I could change something about myself it would be that”

I walk towards Y/N, the only thing between us is the couch.

“Believe me, I didn’t make a conscious choice to use them as an obstacle to anything, including a relationship. I'm sorry for that too” I rubbed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“About telling you things about my personal life, I honestly thought you didn't care at all” I looked up to meet her eyes, “Even before Vante, you never seemed to care about me that way” I put my hands in my sweatshirt pocket, “You mentioned the wall I put up, but you must have helped me build it because I also know very little about your life. Have you noticed that?”

Y/N was speechless. From her reaction, I could see I struck a nerve. She was too focused on pointing out my defects and forgot to recognize her own.

“Huh…” she said, narrowing her eyes after thinking for a while, “I think you’re right. Better late than never then”

“What?”

“Eric proposed to me” Y/N stated.

I shake my head, suddenly dizzy by what I just heard. Torn between confusion, despair, and a nervous breakdown, I feel like screaming and laughing at the same time because if I heard her correctly it is ridiculous. 

“Are you serious?”

Was Y/N testing me? I thought she liked me. Up until three minutes ago, that was what she made me believe. I’m not crazy, she said 'something more’, didn't she? So how could she be marrying another guy? And that stupid englishman of all people? It must be a joke.

“Didn’t you want me to tell you about my personal life? This is personal” Y/N crossed her arms, “Eric proposed to me”

“Okay, you are serious” I said to myself, “What did you say?” I turned my face to her, a pleading look on my face. At that moment it was impossible to read her expression and the silence was killing me, “Did you accept, Y/N?”

“Yes”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

[namixart]

So. Sorry for vagueposting but rant under read more because I'm livid.

So. You may have seen my awesome new tattoo. It's great, I love it and it makes me super happy. If you haven't seen it, it's a tattoo of Cloud's Buster Sword covered in Aerith's flowers. The reasoning behind it, as I mentioned in my original post, is that 2020 wasn't really a fun year for anyone. Me? I got through it relatively unscathed, and a lot of it I credit to FFVIIR coming out and working on Wildflowers. I genuinely love it and I'm always excited to share more and more with you guys! I also spent most of the year gushing about the game and the characters to anyone who'd listen, and I don't feel like it's a stretch to say that if not for FFVIIR and Wildflowers I'd be in a much worse place right now, mental health wise. More specifically than just FFVII, it's been thanks to Cloud and Aerith. They're my favourite characters in the game (together AND separately) and honestly probably my favourite characters ever. Period. They're both absolutely comfort characters for me and I break out in a huge smile whenever they're so much as brought up. So, I decided to get a tattoo representing them. Because I wouldn't be doing as well as I am now if not for them. Again, both together and separately. As I mentioned in the caption of the photo I posted of my tattoo.

Now, tonight I got a notification: "[username] reblogged your post!" So, obviously, I went to check it out! Everyone has been absolutely lovely on that post--a lot of compliments and excitement RE: the tattoo--and I wanted to see if there was more of that. There was not. No, what I found in the reblog was [username] very smugly asking me what I would tell people "when C/T end up together again in remake" and I look like an idiot for getting a C/A tattoo. Would I tell them the remake retconned canon? Or would I lie and say it's a Z/A tattoo?

So, they obviously got blocked faster than the speed of light and they deserve none of my or anyone else's attention, but I just kinda need to rant, because hey, none of this is okay! First of all, there was nothing in that post or the tags talking about C/T or just T (don't want this showing up in their tags, I'm not an animal). The tattoo has nothing to do with C/T (or Z/A for that matter), and I did not feel the need to be snippy or talk about the LTD at all. For that matter, even if I did tag it as C/A, it's not really even just a shipping tattoo. First and foremost, it's about Cloud and Aerith in their capacity as my favourite FFVII characters, my comfort characters and the fact that they helped me get through 2020 and the first half of 2021. Do I ship C/A? Yes, obviously. But I'm not yet so deranged that that would be enough to get a tattoo. No, this was about the game and the characters. At any rate, the fact that I didn't tag it as C/T and that they still found the post means that they went snooping through the C/A tag to find it, presumably to get mad and be mean at strangers on the internet just trying to exist in peace. Which is bad enough. [username], if you're out there (and you're not, because blocked), please do all of us a favour and get a life.

Secondly, and most importantly, [username] missed something that's very obvious to somebody with basic reading comprehension skills (I know this is Tumblr but come on). The mental health thing. Now, I don't know where I would be if FFVIIR and Wildflowers hadn't happened at the time that they did, but I'd be in much worse shape. This story and these characters were consistently a huge comfort and escape for me for over a year and a half, and that's the reason I got a tattoo. So, [username] looked at a post of me being happy about my tattoo because it brings me joy and represents characters who bring me joy and got me through a goddamn global pandemic and went "That's nice," and proceeded to spit out whatever verbal garbage came to mind. This is the part that infuriates me. I'm not hurt, I'm not heartbroken, I don't care. But this sort of behaviour is disgusting. I'd be equally livid if I saw it happen to somebody else. Guess what you don't get to do? Shit on people's happiness and intrude like this. For all they know, I could've been in a much worse state than I was--did they ever think about that? That's the part that gets me. Like, who are you to come onto my post, take it way too seriously and be mean about something that represents my coping mechanism? Disgusting. I hope they know that every single character they mentioned, especially their beloved T, would be disgusted with them.

And even if none of this was the case, even if I did go off the deep end and get a tattoo because ooohh cute ship, even if I didn't have any mental health issues associated with it--even if all of that. They still thought it was appropriate to take a post of someone just trying to share a tattoo that they loved and be rude and mean-spirited and smug on it. While specifically looking through the C/A tags too, let's not forget that sad cherry on this pathetic sundae. What kind of person do you have to be, to act like this and think you're in the right? This is the most sincere "Get a life" I've ever said, Jesus Christ. Guess what? Shipping isn't that big of a deal! I know, radical. You know what is a big deal? Assholes like this trying to make everyone else's lives worse for... reasons? Kicks? I genuinely can't fathom the thought process you'd have to go through to end up at "I'll be mean to this person I've never met who's just having fun and being happy. Serves them right." I just... I'm upset. Not for myself (I truly do not care about one internet troll), but just in general that this kind of people exist. Vile. Get a life, and I'll go show my tattoo to people whose opinion I actually care about.

And, for the record, if FFVIIR does end with canon C/T (which, honestly, I really don't think it will resolve the LTD at all), I'd just still tell people that the tattoo was never meant to be, like, some deranged "I SUPPORT THIS SHIP AND I WANT IT CANON OR I'LL LIGHT MYSELF ON FIRE" thing. It is, and always was, meant to represent two of my favourite characters who helped me through a really rough spot. Simple as that.

Also they got an ask from someone congratulating them on "putting toxic C/As in their places" I'm gonna fucking piss myself. Go eat a bag of dicks, fuckhead, and leave me alone.

[georgescatcafe]

slippin’ into the lava (burnin’ up)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: realistic minecraft au, pining, light angst, fire powers word count: 1,897 summary:  It’s like he’s a kid again, wild and untamed, flames dancing along his fingers at the slightest spike in emotion. He had learnt to curb that, calm himself down, calm the fire inside down, but now he’s back to square one.

“I’m scared I’m going to burn you,” Sapnap says, quiet.

“I’d let you burn me,” George replies.

+ao3

;;

It’s like he’s a kid again, wild and untamed, flames dancing along his fingers at the slightest spike in emotion. He had learnt to curb that, calm himself down, calm the fire inside down, but now he’s back to square one.

George glares at the burnt marshmallow at the end of his stick. Sapnap tries to apologize, but it comes out flat—he’s disappointed. In himself. The night had been going so well, him and his friends out on the beach, not nearly enough wood or materials for a bonfire, leaving Sapnap as their next best thing. So they had been standing in a loose circle, Dream distributing marshmallows before remembering he’s got stuff for s’mores, proper s’mores, back in his house, so he’d gone back, and George had turned to Sapnap then, expectant, marshmallow on the end of a stick, and Sapnap had sighed and allowed the fire to burst from his skin, reaching into the night sky.

It had been fine. George hovered his marshmallow over Sapnap’s hands, and Sapnap tried to give him that perfect golden crisp. But then George leaned in closer, and the flames made his eyes glow amber, and he smelt like petrichor, like home, and Sapnap felt his heart jump, and with that so did the flames in his palm, shooting up into the sky and turning George’s marshmallow into something of a torch.

“I’m really sorry,” Sapnap says, genuine as he can, but George just brushes him off.

“We’ll just try again when Dream gets back.” He stares at the pathetic pile of goop and ash on the sand. “What even happened?”

Sapnap feigns ignorance. Claims that something outside himself might’ve set off the flames. “It happens sometimes.” And it does, really, but not this time.

George accepts it, but a good three feet remain between them until Dream gets back.

;;

The next time it happens, it shouldn’t have even happened at all. They’re on a hunt for lapis now, Dream wanting it for enchanting purposes, and they’ve just found the mouth of a cave, the path down it dark and treacherous. The dark oak forest that surrounds them doesn’t help in the least, the layers of leaves up above blocking out most of the sun. Sapnap leans against the trunk of one of the thick trees, eyes closed, just resting. He’s fine, calm, content to let Dream and George sniff around the entrance, figure out what monsters lay inside.

“So are you coming?” Sapnap’s eyes fly wide open. George’s breath is warm against his lips, and immediately their eyes lock, dark blue on brown.

“Uh,” Sapnap says intelligently.

George moves in even closer, and Sapnap finds himself backing up even more against the tree as his heart begins to pound. “We think this thing goes pretty deep, so Dream says to set up camp here and wait until morning, then head down as far as we can.”

“That’s,” Sapnap says, “smart.” He swallows as George nods.

“Do you want this tree then?” George asks. “It’s probably safest to stay in them instead of down here.”

From somewhere behind Sapnap, a skeleton rattles, proving George’s point.

Sapnap blinks. “Yeah. Unless, uh, you want it.”

George squints at him then, a frown on his face. He lifts a hand to Sapnap’s forehead, touching the skin there with the back of it. Sapnap’s breath catches. “Are you okay? You’re being, like, weirdly awkward.”

“No,” Sapnap immediately says. “You’re awkward.”

George snorts, brow lifting. “Yeah? Well, you’re—oh my God, Sapnap, you’re going to start a fucking forest fire!” Sapnap stares at him in confusion before looking down at where his palms are pressed flat to the tree. George is right. From between his fingers, little flames lick away at the tree. They turn to each other right as the smell of burning bark hits their noses.

“Shit,” Sapnap says.

“Can’t you cut it out?” George glances behind to look for Dream, who of course is nowhere in sight. “Oh my God.”

Sapnap lifts his palms from the wood, but the fire remains bright on his hands. “Uh.” He curls his fingers into his palms, turning his hands to fists, but then the fire only grows more aggressive, flames now curling up and over his arms. When he splays his hands out in front of him, the fire stretches out into the air, and he finds himself shouting a warning to George, who scampers away, fear flashing in his eyes. Vaguely, Sapnap remembers a river, and he finds himself rushing back the way they came to look for it. When he reaches it, he immediately shoves his hands under the water and tries not to hate himself.

;;

It happens with Dream too.

“You like George,” Dream says to him one day, and Sapnap finds himself fighting both the red in his cheeks and the flames in his hands. “How long has that been going on?” Dream asks, and Sapnap gives a sigh.

“When we were staying out by the beach,” he replies honestly. The next words that come out of his mouth are stuttered, reluctant: “I’ve liked him for longer.”

“So I’m guessing we’re a little bit past like?” Dream concludes, and Sapnap frowns. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s going to be weird being third wheel, but I can take it.”

Sapnap glances over at him as he takes a seat on the log next to him. “You’re not going to be third wheel,” he says. “George doesn’t like me back. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Dream places a consoling hand on his back. Sapnap wants to shrug it off. If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve. “He likes you plenty. Don’t be so negative.”

“As a friend, maybe,” Sapnap agrees.

Dream gives him a dry look. “I think as more, but you’re free to have your wrong opinion.”

At that, a small laugh works its way past Sapnap’s lips. Dream’s own tug into a smile. Soon, though, the laugh falls flat. “Doesn’t matter if he likes me. Every time he gets near I find myself, well,” he puts his palms in front of him, where tiny flames still flicker, “kind of hard to be affectionate.”

When Dream reaches over, taking Sapnap’s hand in his own, the fire dies right before they touch, and Sapnap knows that wouldn’t happen with George. He’d be the other’s destruction.

“You’ll figure it out,” Dream says. “It’s what you always do.”

Sapnap wants to believe him.

;;

There’s always a moment of clarity that comes before declaring something a lost cause. You look at the carnage all around and know there is nothing that could have prevented it, could prevent it. That moment, for Sapnap, occurs when he and George are on the roof, the starry sky endless and open above them, George’s small cottage warm and cozy beneath them. George is laughing at something Sapnap said, something clever, something smooth, head tossed back, mouth open wide in a bellyaching laugh, and Sapnap thinks he’s so beautiful, that this night can’t get any better, but then George calms down, and he looks over, a glint in his eyes, and he rests his head on Sapnap’s shoulder.

In no universe would Sapnap ever set George’s house on fire. In this one, he accidentally does.

It’s just the roof, and normally that’d mean it’s salvageable, but when Sapnap goes to grab the bucket he always carries with him, he remembers it’s empty—he used it on a dare from Dream the night before, idiot—and George lost his bucket two days ago. So now George’s house is on fire with no way to save it and it’s entirely his fault.

No apologies could fix this. The river is way too far. The trek there, at night, way too dangerous. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry, George, I am so fucking sorry,” isn’t—could never be—enough.

He leaves, and he hopes that the other at least acknowledges him after this.

When he passes by Dream’s house, the other’s lights are still on, so he is quick to bang on the door. Dream opens it. “I set George’s house on fire. I don’t have water. George doesn’t have a bucket. Help.” Silently, Dream sets off down the path. He leaves Sapnap standing alone in the doorway. Sapnap goes inside, locking the door behind himself, and decides he’s done enough damage already. Going back would only do more. He plants himself firmly on Dream’s couch.

At some point he must’ve fallen asleep because he wakes to water flicked onto his face. He opens his eyes to see George leaning over him, brows furrowed, frown on his face. “You’re an idiot,” George tells him.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap replies.

George grabs his wrists, holds them so that Sapnap’s hands are far from him, then kisses him. Heat floods Sapnap all the way through. George pulls back, sees the fire spreading across Sapnap’s palms, and immediately dunks his hands into a fresh bucket of water. “This isn’t really efficient,” George says. “Kind of dumb, actually. But it’s the best we can do until you’re back to normal.”

“What, are you seeing this as some kind of affliction?” Sapnap asks.

George gives him a look and Sapnap closes his mouth, sheepish. George glances down to Sapnap’s hands. Pulls them out of the water. “I’m doing this for you,” George says. “Dream told me about… yeah, your affliction.” He meets Sapnap’s eyes. “You really have a crush on me?” he asks. “That’s so embarrassing.” But his own cheeks are flushed.

Sapnap smiles, but it’s weak because… “I still can’t really do anything.”

“Could we start small?” George asks. He still has his fingers around Sapnap’s wrists, and he holds up one, Sapnap’s hand flopping over pathetically. George smiles before running his fingers up Sapnap’s arm and intertwining them with his own. So now they’re holding hands. Sapnap can hear the blood rush in his head as George meets his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“I’m scared I’m going to burn you,” Sapnap says, quiet. George brings their other hands together, palms pressed flat in a kiss, before his fingers slot between Sapnap’s.

“I’d let you burn me,” George replies, equally soft.

Sapnap lets out a breath.

“We’ll take our time,” George continues. “I’m scared too. I just don’t have the powers you have.” He laughs, and it’s a delicate sound. Sapnap takes it in. “I’m not affectionate. You know that, but… I don’t want you to be afraid of touching me, Sapnap. Of just being near me.”

He lets go of Sapnap’s hand to move the bucket, puts it on the floor. Takes their still-connected hands and puts them to his chest. Sapnap can feel his heartbeat. It’s rapid fire. “If I had your powers,” George whispers, “this whole world would be burnt down.”

“I love you,” Sapnap tells him.

“I know,” George replies. He squeezes Sapnap’s hand. “Nothing here has caught fire yet. You’re doing great already.”

Sapnap leans forward, brings their lips together, kisses him.

“Nothing here has caught fire yet.”

Sapnap lifts his free hand, curls it around the back of George’s neck, pulls him closer. George isn’t burnt. The bucket gets kicked over; Sapnap hears it hit the floor. The water spills out across wood. It’s fine. George’s hand comes up to cup Sapnap’s cheek. They don’t need it anyway.

[jebazzled]

it ain’t your muse! (shut up & write, ft. rihanna)

You nerds are always talking about your muse. My muse this, my muse that, I have no muse, my muse went the way of the dinosaurs, if my muse comes out of its burrow and sees its shadow I won’t be able to write for six weeks.

Shut up about your fucking muse!

It is true that you might go through periods where it is hard to find time and energy to write, or negative experiences in a writing community might leave you with anxiety surrounding writing. But by and large, writers block is something you can overcome! 

Please, for the love of god, let me help you. 

Writing is a muscle, and you’ve got to exercise it if you don’t want it to atrophy. 

This tutorial is a bit of tough love about y’all and y’all’s diddly-darn muses, and some advice for snapping yourself out of it!

So here’s the thing about writing, my loves. You have to actually do it. 

TERRIBLY inconvenient, I know.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your work-life balance or how to manage your time. If you’re not writing much because you straight up don’t have time to write much, my advice is simple: pare down on your characters, focus on the plots that matter most to you, and spend some mental health juice on reminding yourself that there isn’t an RP Prom Queen, and even if there were, it’s better not to live or die by that bizarro crown. 

But if you’re having trouble writing because of Your Muse... I’m cracking my knuckles. 

We’ve all written with folks before - or been that folk before - who need a very specific set of circumstances if they’re going to write: they need time to Pinterest, need to listen to a specific playlist, need to get in the mindset, need the thread to scratch a very specific itch and need all of it to come together before the moon passes out of a waxing gibbous. As a fellow dev ho, I understand the appeal of writing to suit a mood, of vibing to a playlist, of prioritizing the stuff you’re going fucking feral for, of having the stars align while you do the thing. But if you’re like this when you’re writing for other people - 

well, you’re making things difficult for both you and your writing partners! We can’t control the external constraints on our time, e.g. work and school, and we can’t always control the nonsense our psychology spins to keep us from writing. But some things are within our control, and by god, if there is any control to be had in the year of Mother Sappho 2021, don’t you want it? 

At least some of your writers block is probably dumb as hell. So let’s beat the shit out of that part.

Anyway, if you’re yakking on and on about how your muse demands a bottle of red wine and a scented candle and fairy lights and soft socks and the blood of the servant, willfully given in order to spit out 200 words, or whatever... 

it’s not that fucking deep.

Writing is a muscle. It’s like any other muscle: you need to exercise it. 

If you’re training for a 5k, you don’t sit on your couch listening to “Eye of the Tiger” until race day. You get your ass off the cushion and pound the pavement. You probably start by alternating walks with short bursts of running. You probably don’t work your way up to actually running 5k at a time for a few weeks. And once you’ve run that first 5k, you don’t go sit on your couch to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” until the next race. You keep running to stay in shape for the next race.

Writing is like that. 

What you write does not have to be perfect. 

You can work on the post for six weeks and there will still be things you could change. You know what change your writing partner would have appreciated most? If you’d posted it for them three weeks ago. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good. 

Cut yourself the same slack you cut for your writing partners. Do you yearn to keelhaul them if their reply isn’t worth a National Book Award? No, because you’re not an asshole. They’re also not an asshole. Everyone is reasonable here. Write something that responds to what they gave you and that gives them something to work with. Not every single post has to be capital-I Inspired. ✨

What you write does not have to be a vibe ready for the Goop newsletter. 

I was a creative writing major in college, and I was always having to turn stuff in for class that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to work on: a short story set in another country when I just wanted to write a play with puppets, an essay about food when I would rather write one about a weekend drive, etc. 

Sometimes, you write what you write when you write it not because it’s getting you hot and bothered but because you’ve owed a reply for A While and you feel bad about keeping someone waiting. It will still be fun, because you chose to do that thread with your character and someone else’s character for a reason, and that reason stands, even if your monkey brain is yearning to play with that slime that makes fart noises when you put it away. 

(Pro tip, here: don’t do threads you don’t actually have any interest in writing! It is less awkward to tell someone, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn” than to waste their time with 10 posts of it before telling them, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn.”) 

The more you write, the easier it is. 

Let’s talk about running again. A couple of years ago, I went on a bit of a kick with the running. I ran at least three times a week. I would bring my running shit with me to work so I could run in the park near my office. I would make running dates with friends. I would reward myself with a bagel from my favorite cafe if I did a run. And you know what? Once I got myself past the hurdle of pulling on my running clothes and lacing up my shoes, I enjoyed myself. When I ran 5k without slowing to a walk, I was proud of myself. When I told myself, “let’s do another loop at the park!” and stopped to take a photo of the sunset, I enjoyed myself. I would not have enjoyed myself if I hadn’t hit the goddamn pavement.

Put your ass in your fucking chair. I don’t care if you don’t have the right scented candle. Write 50 words. Right fucking now. I’ll wait.

Write another 50.

Now write another 100.

How long did that take you? Some days, it might take you 90 minutes to write 200 words. But that’s 200 more words than you would have written in 90 minutes of browsing Pinterest waiting for an angel to come down from heaven and write this post for you. 

All that bullshit you do to Feed Your Muse? It’s stalling, you idiot. 

The more you make yourself write instead of just thinking about writing, the easier it will be to actually fucking write. 

I used to sit and stare at posts for hours and hours and hours before submitting them, so worried about the post being good enough. When I moved to a neighborhood with an aboveground train line, I was able to write on my morning commute, and writing every morning - even if only the 200 words I could crank out on mobile in 30 minutes before work - got me out of my weird writers block crutches and security blankets. It didn’t take as much effort to write, anymore. I wrote over 200,000 words in 2019, and over 300,000 words in 2020, when I had barely any commute at all to use on writing. I didn’t magically have endless hours of free time. I just wasn’t wasting my free time pretending that being on Tumblr counted as writing. 

Tough love: doled out. And now:

TIPS & TRICKS FOR BEATING “””Writers Block”””

Stop acting like Writers Block is real. It’s not that it’s not real, but by telling yourself that you have Writers Block, you’re making it worse for yourself. You’re making excuses for yourself. I used Writers Block to stall writing my Topics in Creative Writing: Folktales portfolio for 3 months, and you know what happened? I still had to turn in the fucking portfolio, because the person I was writing for didn’t fucking care about my fucking Writers Block. And you know who had to sit her ass in a chair and write 30 pages of folktales in a 24 hour period? Me. It’s almost like my Writers Block was just PROCRASTINATION. 

Set a timer. If you’re looking at your list of replies owed and you’re feeling like it might be easier to “do character dev” and “build a playlist” than to write your posts, break the task into smaller pieces. If your server has a sprint bot, use it. If not, set your own timer.  Organize your list of threads with the ones you’ve owed replies on the longest at the top. Set your timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write for the oldest post you owe. Not done? Set the timer for another 20 minutes. Keep setting that timer until that post is done and you can drop it in the tags channel. Now do the same for the second oldest.  CRANK! THEM! OUT! If you find that it’s depleting your creative energy, that’s not unusual! When I get to this point in my own posting habits, my oldest replies owed are usually for Albus Dumbledore, a character I write specifically because I hate him. It is often easier to knock out all his posts in one chunk rather than shift voice, so this ends up working out nicely. 

Don’t indulge your stupid stalling tactics. Do you typically get sidetracked by Pinterest? Put your phone away and close that tab. Do you get absorbed in lining up the perfect music for writing a post? Write in silence, asshole. Do you need to be in your favorite chair with the right lighting? Go sit on a park bench and write on mobile.  It’s nice to write in idealized environments. I rented a treehouse last summer to write 10k on a novel! I get it! But you absolutely can write in other environments, if you have to. And if you can get yourself to write on a dark skin on your iPad at an airport in the Midwest while waiting for a flight - well, shit, think of how much you’ll be able to write on a laptop when your diva ass demands are properly met!

Don’t take on shit you don’t want to write. I fully admit that these tactics feel a bit like homework/chores/a to-do list for what is of course a fun hobby. You know how they say “love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life?” If you don’t take on plots, characters, and threads that don’t have a lick of interest or excitement for you, this shit won’t feel like a hassle. 

Hope this whips all you little miscreants (myself included) into shape! Now quit your yapping and start writing. 

[samingtonwilson]

Apartment 8C - Chapter 1

Telling the Kids About Your Separation

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe. 

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language

A/N: SHE’S BACK, LADIES. the only tag list i’m using is the permanent one, nothing specifically for this series sorry!

“You guys said it wouldn’t last…” 

Natasha looks between the two of you. Steve’s beer is at his lips but he doesn’t take a sip. Wanda’s fingers pause in the bowl of popcorn she’s placed in her lap. Only Sam has a visibly emotional reaction. 

He’s on the verge of bursting— maybe in frustration as the two of you are blocking the television, maybe in laughter. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve hidden your hands behind your back. Nor does it help that you and Bucky are both grinning like giddy idiots while you stare at your friends who now sit with pin-straight postures on the sectional in your living room.

“And you were right!” you shout once several awkward beats have passed. 

There is a loud POP! when you bring your hands forward to twist the bottom of a party popper, iridescent confetti falling over the coffee table and tangling itself in Natasha’s hair, and a triple air horn sound effect cuts through the silence when Bucky opens the app on his phone. 

The two of you are laughing and high-fiving one another, but the four before you continue staring. 

That is, until longsuffering Sam— fingers pressed into his temples— speaks. “You called us over here to tell us you broke up?” 

Bucky shrugs and takes the empty party popper from you. He turns it over and shakes it, disappointed when more confetti doesn’t fall out. After all, he’d purchased the ones from Target just for the extra confetti. “We have consciously uncoupled.”

“That term refers to divorce,” Wanda says as she picks the confetti out of the popcorn and lets it fall to the floor. When she looks up, her expression is equal parts exasperation and amusement. “And, as far as I know, you two were never married.” 

Natasha, fingers combing through her hair, frowns. “I actually forgot you were even dating.”

“Yeah, so did she,” Bucky says as he jabs his elbow into your ribs with a snort. “We didn’t want you guys finding out from somewhere else.” 

“Like where?” Sam asks. He scoots over to let you sit beside him, eyes narrowed at Bucky who falls into his usual spot— the worn barcalounger you’d begged him not to bring when he moved in. “You think they’d send out a campus-wide alert that you two broke up? Or that E! News would be reporting it after they talk about whichever Kardashian is having another baby?” 

That steals Wanda’s attention from the popcorn bowl. “Speaking of, how is one of them always pregnant?” 

There’s a fair amount of indistinct chatter to answer Wanda’s question, but it is all loudly interrupted with a simple: “Does this mean Bucky is moving out?” 

It seems that everyone turns to look at Steve simultaneously. Squeaks of leather as you all shift around, the click of a bowl being placed on the wooden table. 

He understands the question in all of your gazes, and shrugs with a sigh of defeat. “They’re probably just genetically very fertile— Kris has had, like, eighteen children herself. Now, does Bucky have to find a place?” 

Then all eyes slide to you. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose wrinkles. The absolute picture of disbelief. It has Bucky fighting a smile. “Why would he need to do that?” 

“Living with an ex is hard,” Sam replies. He sets his hand on yours and gives your fingers a light squeeze. It’s meant to be comforting, but it isn’t necessary. “It’d make sense if you couldn’t—”

“Bucky moved in a while before we started dating,” you tell them, each word said in an imploring tone. “He still has his bedroom, I still have mine. Besides, we didn’t break-up because we can’t stand being around each other.” 

“Then why did you break-up?” 

The inquiry is directed at Bucky, who everyone shifts to face. The piercing attention draws a light blush over the bridge of his nose and at the highpoints of his cheeks. You hold back a soft laugh. “We’re just better as friends. The romantic compatibility wasn’t there.” 

“Romantic compatibility, conscious uncoupling,” Natasha repeats with a surprised laugh. “Does this man have a Goop membership, or something?” 

Despite your own laughter, you nod at Bucky. “He’s right, though. It just— Something was missing.” 

As inarticulate as it is, it’s the truth. There was nothing wrong with your relationship, at least at first glance. You kissed each other hello— when you remembered— and you kissed each other goodbye— when you remembered. 

But you often forgot— you usually forgot. Which might be explanation enough as to why the two of you didn’t last. 

— 

“Was the sex bad?” 

You nearly choke on the sip of wine you’d taken. Glancing at the boys in the living room to confirm they were blissfully unaware of Wanda in the kitchen, you set your glass onto the counter and narrow your eyes at her. “You should increase your volume the next time you ask something like that.” 

“It couldn’t have been too bad,” Natasha says from the barstool beside Wanda’s, still frowning. She’d managed to remove every piece of confetti from her hair and it now sits in a small pile next to her glass. “You two weren’t exactly virgins when you met.” 

Your answering smile is sarcastic. “Hilarious. The sex wasn’t bad. He’s— He’s good at it.” 

“Yeah, that was convincing,” Natasha snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “For his sake, I hope none of us let it slip that Barnes’ dick is trash.” 

“It isn’t trash! Okay.” You wiggle a finger at Wanda. “You. Imagine having sex with Steve.”

Her nose immediately wrinkles, her scowl instantaneous. “Understood. But then why date in the first place?” 

“Remember the night my ‘friends’ from high school were in the city?” 

The smile Natasha wore due to your finger quotes gives way to a deep grimace. “The night that girl with the bad bleach job pranced around here showing her ring off? I wish I could forget.” 

You nod. “All night, she kept telling me someone might be out there for me. That I probably won’t be too late, that some people end up alone and it’s okay. Like I’m tofu and she’s apple pie.” 

“You lost me with that one.”

“Like I’m an acquired taste and she’s universally appealing.” 

You smile when they laugh to themselves, but shake your head seconds later. “I don’t care if I end up alone. I’ll be fine either way. It’s just the insinuation that I’ll fail if I try to find someone. Like it’s prom all over again.” 

“D’you punch her teeth in? Can I punch her teeth in?”

You roll your eyes at Natasha. “I drank my weight in whatever bullshit wine she’s stupid enough to pay for, texted Bucky to pick me up, and fucked him on the couch to make myself feel better.” 

Her features twist in disgust. “The couch we all sit on?”

— 

While Sam yells at the television as if the New York Giants can hear his admonishments and advice, Steve sits back against the sofa cushions. His sigh is heavy and pointed, meant to draw attention, but it fails. 

So he places his feet on the coffee table. He crosses his legs at the ankle. And he glares. 

An unsuccessful moment later, he speaks. “I’m not gonna let you crash on my couch.” 

Unable to stop himself, Bucky smiles but otherwise focuses on the game. “That’s a fun psychic premonition. Do you read palms, too?” 

Steve attempts to look more threatening and narrows his eyes to slits. The blue is icy, menacing. 

However the elephant cushion he’s clutching to his chest? Not helping his cause. “So she dumped you because you’re a pain in the ass? Is that it?”

“She dumped me because I’m too good in bed and it was starting to become too much for her.” 

Sam pauses the game just to join Steve in looking at Bucky skeptically. 

He just rolls his eyes. “No one dumped anyone. We both decided we’re better as friends.” 

“S’usually a lie when people say that,” Steve remarks. He sticks his tongue out when Bucky narrows his eyes in offense. 

“It isn’t this time.” 

Sam, wearing a sly smile as he turns his attention back to the game, asks the next question: “Were there tears?” 

“She was stone cold.” Grinning as he holds his bottle of beer to his lips, he adds jokingly, “I cried like a baby, though.” 

Sam hums. “Not surprised. You fuckin’ sobbed at Inside Out.”

“Oh, so you didn’t cry when Bing Bong said ‘Take her to the moon for me’?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow. “What, are you a fuckin’ monster, Wilson?” 

The grinding of Steve’s teeth is almost audible, his irritation painfully evident when he tosses the cushion aside. 

Yet he still straightens it to make sure the elephant is sitting up straight, trunk pointed to the ceiling. 

“I’m being serious, Buck. Living with an ex... It’s touchy and awkward. How are you gonna feel when she’s got some guy over?” 

“The same way she’ll feel when I’ve got some girl over,” the answer is said with ease. “Hell, I’ll give her a condom if she needs one.” 

“And your feelings just turned themselves off?” 

His shrug is a bit reluctant, the smile he offers Steve hesitant. “Hers did.”

—

Hours pass before it’s just you and Bucky in the apartment. 

Natasha and Wanda leave first to get enough sleep before their eight-AM class, and Steve only manages to coax Sam off the couch once he has watched the game highlights and coverage twice over. You think you might scream if you ever hear the SportsCenter theme again.

Leaning against the door after it shuts behind Steve and Sam, you offer Bucky a sleepy smile as he rummages through the refrigerator. Judging by his sour expression, there’s nothing good to eat. “That was easier than I thought.” 

“Yeah, I’m real glad I read that ‘Telling the Children about the Divorce’ article for it.” He slams the fridge shut. There is desperation in his voice when he asks, “Are you hungry, too?” 

Dish rag tossed in his direction, you flip the faucet on to wet each glass. “When am I not hungry, Bucky?” 

“Are you more willing to pay for pizza or Thai?” 

“S’too late for Thai.” You set a washed glass atop the counter and get started on soaping up the next one. “We’ll get Thai when it’s your turn to pay.”

Three glasses sit on the counter before Bucky sets his phone down and begins drying them. He peers over at you with attempted tact.

But, to his dismay, you smile and meet his blue eyes with a playful glare. “What?” 

“Steve’s dead-set on me moving out.” 

Your frown is immediate. You stop scrubbing the popcorn bowl for a moment. “Do you want to move out?” 

His reply is instant. He stops drying a glass for a moment. “No. Do you want me to move out?” 

“No.” You resume scrubbing. “I can’t live here with anyone else.” 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek to avoid a grin, Bucky nods. He decides to change the subject and bumps his hip against yours. “Sam thought we were gonna tell everyone we got engaged.”

Startled laughter and you hand Bucky the washed bowl, switching the tap off and leaning your hip against the counter’s edge. “After, like, four months of dating? No wonder he looked so terrified.” 

“Should’ve played it off that way just to see what they’d say,” he muses as you help him put the dishes away. “Tasha would’ve hosted an intervention for you.” 

You hum in agreement. “Steve would’ve definitely called your mother.” 

“Would Wanda faint or is that too dramatic?” 

“She was ready to faint when I told her we had sex on the couch.” 

Eyebrows raised, he watches as you walk to the living room and fall into that exact couch with exaggerated relief. “You told her that?” 

Another hum. “Nat almost threw up.” 

“At the thought of us having sex in our own home?” he snorts, adding in a deadpan tone, “Oh, the horror.” 

Bucky collapses onto the couch beside you and smiles when you drop your head onto his shoulder. He toys with the stray pieces of confetti littered over the cushions. “Went all the way to Target for the more expensive poppers and they had even less confetti than the Party City ones.”

“Just because something costs more doesn’t mean it’s better.” 

He gasps playfully. “We have a genius in our midst. Someone please embroider everything she says onto pillows.” 

“Yeah and I’ll use those pillows to smother you in your sleep.” You lift your head and set your chin on his shoulder instead. You try to glare, but his smile is contagious. “I know where you live, Barnes.” 

“You won’t for long if Steve has it his way.” 

“If the world operated according to Steve’s wishes, we’d all be required, by law, to eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast and wear shirts two sizes too small.” 

--

CHAPTER 2: FINDING YOUR INDEPENDENCE 

[ijustwant2write]

An Unforeseen Future-Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader (Part 6/?)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

Prompts List

Tags: @littlemessyjessi @hains-j @cliffdidanelvis @satsuma-livewasp-nightmares @miss-artemis-wild @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @millie67 @absolutelynoregretsonlychoices @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @mysticalfairytales @snowblazeblack @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @thatchampagnebitch @thiahilmarsdottir @mzliterarydreamer @newlifeforus@x-valhalla @jazzycasino @blonddnamedhandz @enchantedbones @severewobblerlightdragon @sad-letter @pieces-by-me @squids-for-knees

Summary: (Y/N) is stuck as Hvitserk stalks after Bo, and she is sure that he is intent on killing him. It seems that there is no possible way out, there is nothing that she can do to save him.

Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader, Harald Finehair x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of blood, killing, death, false imprisonment, swearing, drugging, manipulation, threats

                                  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hvitserk!” I screeched, hurting my throat as I continued screaming at the top of my lungs.

My wrists were red raw from struggling against the rope, and I felt like I had pulled the muscles in my shoulders after thrashing around so much. With nothing near me to cut the ropes, I was truly trapped, with no way of getting to Bo. Even if I stepped foot outside, Hvitserk surely had his guards on strict orders to lock me up again. I had never seen Bo fight, I had no idea how good he was; even if he won against Hvitserk, his men would go straight after Bo for killing the prince.

I heard the front door open, but it couldn't be Hvitserk and Ivar, they wouldn't be back so soon. Falling silent, I heard footsteps approaching, tensing up when a guard entered the room.

"Stop screeching. You're pissing us all off." he snapped.

"Go retrieve Prince Hvitserk, he's about to do something incredibly stupid!" I urged.

"Like I would listen to you."

"I-I'm still the princess!"

“Oh, so now you want to class yourself as royalty? Well, your highness, would you please shut up?” He mockingly bowed.

I groaned.“Why can’t you see that Hvitserk is about to kill an innocent man because he is jealous? It’s ridiculous!”

“Many men kill each other to keep their women.”

“He’s not keeping me.”

“You seem to be kept here.” he gestured to the rope.

Looking up at my hands, I had an idea.“Look, I’ll shut up if you untie the ropes. Please, I’m not going after him.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“No, because I’ll never make it past any of you. Have you seen my wrists? The skin is cut, I’m bleeding. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore.”

He stepped closer, looking sympathetic as he glanced at my wrists (where blood was trickling down my arm). Now stood beside me, he leaned down, looking as if he was reaching for his sword. Yes, he was foolish just as I had planned, the idiot was going to let me go!

“If you stop moving about, it wouldn’t hurt so much.” he smirked.

I frowned at him.“Fuck you.”

The man said nothing as he left, but from the way he walked, I could see that he was pleased with himself. Slamming the front door shut to make a statement, I felt a horrible overwhelming feeling build up, a lump form in my throat before I started crying. My shoulders ached as they shook, tears running down my neck as I couldn’t wipe them away. Bo was going to die, I couldn’t do anything to help him. I was useless! 

Hours had passed since Hvitserk left, and the exhaustion from crying, struggling against my binds and fighting with Hvitserk had made me fall asleep. No sweet dreams visited me. I was sluggish as I woke, hating the painful feeling in my arms; however, the sight before me was what I truly loathed at that moment. Hvitserk was sat on the edge of the bed, hand on my thigh as he quietly called my name, he was the one to wake me.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), wake up.”

I jerked away from him, wincing as I unintentionally moved my arms.

“Try not to move, you’re going to be sore.”

“Please Hvitserk, I am in so much pain.” I cried again, my throat hoarse.

“Sh, here,” he reached over for a cup on a small table beside us, bringing it to my lips,“you must be thirsty.”

Moving my head away from him, I kept my lips closed, not wanting to take anything from him, despite desperately needing a drink. He had a smile on his face, even as he grabbed my cheeks with one hand.

“Come now darling, you must be parched. I just want to look after you.”

Having had enough of me, he pinched my nose blocking off any air to my lungs. Trying hard not to gasp, my eyes watered as I held on, though I knew I would have to take a gulp of air at some point, and so did he. With my lungs hurting, I attempted to subtly take in a breath of air, but of course that didn’t work. I choked and coughed as he poured the drink down my throat, spitting some out.

“What did you give me?”

“It’s alright, it’ll help you.” he stood, leaning over me as he began untying the rope. His hands were stained red, making my eyes widen.

“Y-you’ve killed him...you killed Bo!” I snapped. 

“Hush now, you’ll lose your voice.”

As the ropes loosened, my arms slowly fell down, the muscles stiff from being in the same position for hours. Despite the pain, I attempted to lunge for him, but somehow I wasn’t in control of my limbs, making me fall off the bed. Hvitserk chuckled as he caught me, lying me down on his lap, cradling my head.

“What...” my words were slurring.“What did you give me? Hvit...Hvitserk...help.”

“It’s to help you sleep. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

I wanted to ask about tomorrow, but could only moan, words unable to form. Although my mind was screaming at me to fight, my body had shut down. He drugged me, he had a plan for me that he needed me to be asleep for, and I was petrified what was going to happen. As my body shut down again, eyelids heavily closing, I felt him stroke back my hair, flashes of his red hands being the last thing I saw.

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“She’s waking up.” 

The sentence was muffled, I couldn’t figure out who it was. My eyelids struggled to open, I rubbed my eyes, ignoring the ache in my muscles. With my vision still blurry, I went to speak, but my throat was too dry. Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat, finally able to make out my surroundings. Two thralls stood at the end of the bed I was lying on. We weren’t in the cabin given to us when I first arrived, this one was different, more grand.

“Where am I?” I mumbled, trying to sit up when I felt a tightness in my chest. Glancing down, I realised I was in a dress.

“Please do not rush princess, you need to take things slow.” one of them said, hesitantly approaching me.

"Why am I in a dress? Who put me in a dress?"

"We did, we were ordered to by Prince Hvitserk."

My eyes widened."Why?"

They glanced at each other."F-for the feast."

"What feast? I'm sick of asking questions!" I winced, my head hurting as I raised my voice.

"The raid is set to take place in a few days. And it's also a celebration of your reunion with Hvitserk, everyone was worried about you."

I sneered at them, they understood they needed to elaborate.

"Prince Hvitserk set out to rescue you, after your kidnapping."

I groaned, rolling my eyes at the story. Of course he was telling lies, he had to make up a story to make him look like the hero. I was in a deep blue dress which had embellishment around the off shoulder neckline; it also had long sleeves, he knew he had to cover up my cuts.

"You're currently in King Harald's home, his room. The feast will take place here too."

I sighed."And when is this feast?"

"Tonight."

The thralls helped me to my feet, testing out whether I could walk by myself. I was slow, and I felt like I had been through a whole day and night of training. Dismissing them, I looked at myself in the mirror, wishing that I wasn't wearing such a beautiful gown to a miserable event. Thinking about who would be there at the feast, I remembered what I saw before I passed out; Hvitserk's bloodstained hands. Bo wasn't here, not any more. I couldn't fathom the idea of him being dead. Staring at myself in the mirror, I didn't see myself, this was the (Y/N) Hvitserk wanted. The good, little princess of his, his obeying wife.

"Oh, you look beautiful (Y/N)." I heard Harald's voice as he entered the room.

I frowned at him."I can't go in there."

"Come (Y/N), you will have a great time. There are old friends of yours in there, people who can't wait to see you raid-"

"I don't want to fucking raid!" my voice cracked."I don't want to be here Harald. I'm a prisoner."

"Things will get better (Y/N). If you go along with it, it will be as if nothing changed."

"And that's the problem. I can't act like everything is alright. He's killed my friend Harald! He's killed him for no other reason than jealousy! I would have gone along with his fairytale if that meant he would leave Bo alone, but he wouldn't listen. How can you stand back and watch as I, your friend, suffer through all of this? You know he's in the wrong!"

"Take a deep breath (Y/N)," he took a step towards me, reaching out to comfort me but I flinched away. As I did that, he furrowed his brow at me,"what is wrong with your wrists?"

I scoffed."You sound shocked. If you didn't know, I was tied up all night, then drugged and dragged here. And I was also dressed in this whilst unconscious, then told I was apparently kidnapped and that there was a feast being held partly for me tonight. This seems to be my life now."

"I...I do not know what to say."

"Then you are as speechless as I am." the sound of Hvitserk's voice made my skin crawl.

"Hvitserk, you should not sneak around like that." Harald let out a breathy laugh.

"Why? Are you two up to something?" Hvitserk was half joking, but tension rose in the room. Hvitserk looked me up and down, happily sighing,"You always look gorgeous in that colour."

I turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"I'm sure you must be starving. Your favourite foods are out there waiting for you, and the people will arrive soon. Let us celebrate your return." he held his hand out as if I would leap up and take it.

"Hvitserk, perhaps we should let her rest a while longer. I'm sure people will understand that." Harald tried to help me.

"Harald, would you please leave me and my wife? This should be between us."

My pleading eyes didn't work on Harald. He looked guilty as he left, but I heard him happily greeting people as they entered the hall, the noise level rising with the chatter. I was stuck again.

"Why don't you want to see our friends?" Hvitserk quietly asked, sitting beside me. He rested an arm behind me, and I knew he was itching to wrap it around me.

"My friends would see right through this act, so you didn't invite them. Your friends shall be there, as will all your followers."

"I chose this dress for you. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one."

"You knew it was the one to cover up my wounds."

"How are they?" he reached down for my wrists, smiling to himself,"I know what will make them better."

He was about to tenderly kiss them, but I shot up, tearing my hands away; we used to do that all the time for each other's scars (he had much more since I never raided again), it was a beautiful moment between us. A sign that we would always be there to look after each other, as if a kiss would heal all wounds. However, I suddenly went very dizzy, and Hvitserk was there to catch me again.

"Woah, be careful (Y/N)." it was disgusting how tight his arms were around my waist."Let's get you sat down and get some food in you. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

The way he now held my hand wasn't comforting. I knew that if I let go or refused to hold his hand, something else might happen to me. Now was not the time to cause a scene. Hvitserk wanted to put on a show for everyone, he wanted everyone to see how perfect things were now. His smile grew bigger as we made our way to the hall, the music and chatter getting louder. Cheers rang out as we appeared, Hvitserk waving an arm out as we went to take our seats. I managed to look somewhat content.

"Here they are, your prince and princess!" Harald had the audacity to announce, avoiding eye contact with me."Finally, two lovers reunited. This is the kind of uplifting and encouraging story we needed to give ourselves a boost of motivation for this raid! Everything is back to normal, and soon, we shall have even more riches to shower ourselves in! For tonight, we feast!"

The roar from the crowd was extremely loud, hurting my ears. I made sure to look happy, taking a cup with some form of alcohol in one hand as Hvitserk kept grip of the other. I flinched as he squeezed it, pulling me closer to him so that he could whisper in my ear.

"Do not ruin tonight." he warned, looking out into the crowd. No one was watching.

"You're going to tie me up again?" I snarled back.

"No. I know who else was on that ship with you. They can easily be tracked down, just as Bo was."

I pulled away from him, pushing the petrified feeling deep down inside me and remaining calm. Leaning back in my chair, I let out a shaky breath, scanning the room for any of the crew. None of them were here, and I could believe that Hvitserk had guards waiting for orders tonight.

How the fuck was I supposed to get out of this? Hvitserk had all the power. The only people that could help me were under threat if I made a bad move. I was literally trapped, I had no freedom to even think of a way to escape. Bo was dead, and if I didn't tread lightly, I would have more blood on my hands. It seemed that the only way out was me with no life left inside, and that wasn't an option in my eyes. This would be a waiting game, a long one, but I had to bide my time; because I would overcome this, I had to overcome this.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: Our lovers spend one last night together and the next morning have a serious discussion about their future after more new information comes to light about Sy’s upcoming training. Can the new relationship sustain the stress? Are Shane’s feelings justified, or can they overcome what lies before them?

Spoilers suck! Start from the top or wherever you left off HERE!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, smut, angst…well, near angst. As angsty as I get.

Author’s Note: Sorry this has taken so long, my darling dears! I’m currently on vacation and although I was hoping to be inspired by new surroundings, it’s given me WICKED writer’s block! I have a pretty solid plan for more chapters, though, so, buckle up!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@bloodyinspiredfuck

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@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

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@misslaland (apparently deactivated, idk what’s up with that)

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy's last two PT appointments could not have gone better. On paper, anyway. He was at full strength in his injured knee, his range of motion was better than it was in the so-called good knee, and he hadn't complained of pain above a 2/10 in the last five sessions. He'd even been using the treadmill properly the last two weeks, working up to his own goal of running again. Her goals for him were met…they could have probably stopped a session short, but she'd wanted to give him a few more handouts to finalize his HEP…and well, she'd be in major trouble for saying so, but…she couldn't stand the thought of cancelling that last visit. It felt like quitting, even though it would have been justified.

In practice, however, there was a tension between them that had never existed before. Something creating awkward energy that they couldn't seem to shake. They hadn't seen each other much outside of therapy this week, either. Not since the night of their argument. Sy had to do a lot of prep for his trip to Virginia, and Shane's caseload this week had been ridiculous. Dozens of evaluations and updates and calls to various companies on different kinds of splints and orthotics she was hoping to get for a few of her patients. A lot of time spent on the phone meant a lot of after-hours documentation. She needed a break. Even if it meant she'd have to do some work over the weekend. Sy was leaving tomorrow to get settled in Charlottesville before the big training course began. She didn't want them to be apart on his last night home for a month.

"Hey, as a celebration of your discharge from PT and your new career trajectory, how about dinner on me tonight?"

"But…you don't really want me to leave town…or to be done with therapy. Not that I, myself, won't miss you feeling me up in public." he smirked as she took his last set of range of motion measurements, her hands gently holding one arm of her goniometer to the side of his thigh…suddenly too aware of him.

"Not entirely true. I'm glad you're better, I'll just miss seeing you through the day. It breaks up the…" she sighed "the monotony of my daily life. Also, why would I want you to leave town? What would that say about me as your girlfriend?" she explained.

"S'pose you're right."

"In this case, yes. Yes I am." She winked at him.

They finished up and she gave him a few more exercises to keep in his arsenal to maintain strength and range in both knees.

"Okay, now, I won't be around to harass you about these, but keep doing them regularly, and just modify them as I've notated if they get too easy. Try to just do more reps, though. I wouldn't try to bulk it up just yet, and that's what you'll do with more weight added."

"Yes, ma'am." he said for old time's sake. She shook her head and smirked.

"And listen, please. This is your physical therapist talking right now. Be careful and mindful during … your cross country training." she wanted to call it "Survivor-Virginia," but refrained. She knew it would get his hackles up. And she was taking enough of a chance insisting that he be careful. "Nature has perils for the perfectly fit. The already injured are at a disadvantage from the gate. Mind your footing. And try not to run unless you have to. Uneven surfaces are not your friend just yet. You still need to work up to that. If you want, I'll help you with it when you get back. Just…don't undo all this work we've done together."

He seemed to see his woman peeking out from behind the mask of his therapist. Concern coloring the neutral and clinical advice she was giving him.

"I'll do my best, sunshine." he held her by the arms and kissed her forehead. It felt too intimate for the setting, but they had done worse. "I'll see ya tonight then?"

"Yeah, I'll bring some food by your place after work. What do you want?"

"Hmmm…I'll let you know." he kissed her cheek and left.

The next hour was her lunch, so she had time to contemplate what seeing him walk out for the last time had made her feel. She sighed, and started to well up, getting out her lunch bag to begin eating and documenting when a knock came at the door frame.

It was Sy, looking forlorn and manic and altogether a mess. Very unlike himself.

"I got out to the truck and something just felt wrong about the way I left today. As if it was any other day. Not our last session. You were trying to get that to land…I'm a little slow. But I finally got it." he walked to her, grabbing her up from her chair in a hug that mended all of the broken parts of her. Squeezed her back together when she'd been damn near falling apart. "Shane, you…you did more than just make me better. You've…made me better. Happier. Whole. I'll never be able to thank you properly for all of this, but…I intend to try for as long as you'll let me."

He held her while her tears fell softly onto his Def Leppard shirt. This was what she needed. For him to simply hold her, complete her, love her.

"Also, I think I'd like Chinese food tonight." she laughed into his neck.

"You idiot."

"You still like me."

"I do. And you don't need to worry about thanking me, Sy. You return the favor daily by just…being you…and being mine." She pulled him in to a ferociously sexy kiss, her hands in his hair, still too short for her liking, but getting there.

He broke away, neither wanting it to end, but both knowing it must, all the same.

"I thought we couldn't do this at your work?" he inquired, slightly out of breath.

"We couldn't do this while you were a patient. You're officially discharged. Last appointment over. All I have to do is sign your note and it's a done deal. But now…if you wanted to drop by for lunch sometime when you get back from training for your fancy job…we could…make it a regular occurrence." she smiled up into his entrancing blue eyes, sparkling with promise.

"I like the sound of that, sunshine." he gave her one more chaste kiss before his official goodbye. "See ya tonight."

As she watched him leave, she remembered thinking to herself one day how he probably used to take very confident strides…that hardly did his walk justice.

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

She ordered their favorites, four entrees total, so they had options, crab rangoon, egg rolls, dumplings, the works. She would be happy to eat off the leftovers all weekend. She wasn't fussy. She loved leftover Chinese takeout.

He met her at the door, having advance warning of her arrival from the canine burglar alarm, Aika.

"You got her. Good girl." he said sweetly thanking the pup for sounding off the Twilight Bark throughout the neighborhood.

"Hello!" She handed off the food to Sy and scratched at the German Shepherd's ears the way she liked, her tail wagging with joyous speed.  

"I thought we could set up a buffet on the coffee table downstairs while we watch TV?"

"Sounds great!" She said, with an enthusiasm that sounded almost forced. She wasn't able to fully shake this foreboding she felt saying goodbye to him, no matter how long they'd be apart.

Sy grabbed plates and silverware while Shane got them some beverages, and they headed downstairs, Aika knowing her boundaries did not extend to the basement except by invitation, whined at their descent. Sy wasn't having it.

"Oh, don't give us that sob story, ya brat." he rolled his eyes at Shane.

"Aww, can't she come down with us?"

"No way. I want you all to myself." a devilish smirk twitched up the corners of his mouth making him even more handsome.

"Aika has nothin' on you. You're the real dog." she teased.

"I make no excuses or arguments. I'm gonna be selfish with you tonight." they put the food and supplies on the coffee table and he caught her up into his arms. He seemed to want to inhale her into his lungs.

"Mmmm, as endearing as I've always found generosity, I really like the sound of that." She let out a huff of amusement.

They spent an uncharacteristically short amount of time choosing something to watch. They'd already started a miniseries together, and they wanted to finish it before Sy left. It was a British political thriller with a lot of intrigue and quite a bit of sex. They only had two hours left, so they finished it quickly as they ate.

They decided to put on something familiar afterward. Die Hard. Which they both quoted with ridiculous precision. They were cuddled into each other on the big sectional, lulled into comfort by the familiar security of the dialogue and the warmth of the other.

Soon, Sy's hand found its way to Shane's thigh. It inched its way inside and up. She felt like he could hear her heart rate quicken, just as she knew he could hear her breaths come with more effort due to his touch.

She looked at him, and despite her apprehension about his decision to leave her so early in their relationship, she wanted him. She'd known for so long now. It felt like forever, for longer than they'd even known one another. A ridiculous notion. But with that same gaze, she begged him to continue. The signal was not lost on the captain. His mouth punished hers in a kiss so deliciously violent and needy she thought there was no way he couldn't feel the same for her. She pushed to the back of her busy mind all of the negative emotions the kiss brought up, the confusion as to how and why he was going to leave her when he clearly needed her just as badly as she needed him, and just let this beautiful moment become what it would.

As hard as that was to do.

The way he touched her was a pretty effective distraction. One hand held her firmly against his mouth by the nape while the other built friction in her over her jeans. She felt her body's primal responses of the building pressure and her hands gripping at his shirt. His guttural moan at her answering touch only fueled the inferno in her. She needed more of him. She thrust up into his hand wantonly. He took himself away from her, cruelly, but to be so very kind, she would soon see. He undid her jeans and tugged them down, along with her panties. In the process, he repositioned her conveniently at the edge of the sofa. He scooted the coffee table out of the way enough to kneel before her. He tortured her with kisses from her knee up her inner thigh on both sides before continuing those kisses where she really needed them.

His warm breath hit her first and she arched, aching in anticipation for the corporeal. He looked up at her with his dervish's grin, seeing the desire on her face and feeling it course through her body, and although he was a better man than her previous lovers, and a better man than most, no man was so good that making his woman feel like this didn't make him feel like a god.

"Darlin', you're so gorgeous like this." he said as he teased her with his mouth. Her words failed. She had only unintelligible syllables for him. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed thoroughly amused by her speechlessness. Amused and encouraged. She'd never felt like this before. His lips and tongue worked over her trembling flesh, both as familiar paths and brand new territory. Discovering the new and remembering the familiar, all at once.

"Sy." she whispered, so close to her peak, and needing him to continue, but unable to do more than moan his name.

"I know, sugar. I know it won't be long. Whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

And she fell apart under his expert touch. He soothed her body down from the climax and asked her if she was ready for bed.

"I think not!" she replied. "The movie isn't over." and she pulled him up to her by the cheeks into another crushing kiss and guided him to the couch. She kicked her bottoms off her ankles to avoid tripping and repositioned herself between his legs as he'd done with her.

"You don't have to, sunshine." he caressed her jaw.

"I know, babe. I want to. Let me do this for you." He was always eager to taste her but she'd yet to return the favor at his own request. She was done letting him decline. She didn't want him leaving without giving him this small parting gift.

It wasn't as if she was unfamiliar with how big he was. She'd touched him, and had him inside her…but seeing him this close was different. She fully appreciated what a feat it was to take him.

She started in with her own tricks, which made him moan, just as planned. His hands laced gently and lovingly in her hair as she worked her mouth and hands over him. She looked up at him after a few moments to gauge his reaction and couldn't have been more pleased. His expression was one of pure, tortured bliss. She felt so powerful.

"Angel, I'm not gonna last much longer." she took that as her cue to get on top of him.

She joined their bodies with a groan of ecstasy that he echoed. She gripped his shoulders as she moved against him, slow and measured at first, but becoming more frantic and erratic as she chased her climax. One hand remaining on her hip, the other came to her chin and directed her gaze to him. Her eyes, blazing with desire, met his, full of tears. She fell against his lips, as she climbed higher, needing that final push to send her over. Which it did, tumbling into that familiar bliss, that she'd have to savor for…well, too long. She didn't want to think too hard about that. This would be their last night together for several weeks. And she wanted to make the most of it. She looked at him, nodded, and after a few more thrusts, he came to his own pinnacle with a shudder beneath her, clutching at her back, resting his head on her sternum. She held him there, and took a few cleansing breaths with her own cheek pressed against his lengthening hair. She stroked the ones at the back of his neck for a moment as they came down from their impossible high.

"Shall we continue this upstairs?" she asked as the cheery, festive, and entirely out-of-season notes of "Let It Snow" played on the TV with the rolling credits of Die Hard. He grinned.

"Yeah, if I still have bones in my legs." he kissed her neck, just above the collar of her tee. "And I'll come down later and clear all this up. We'll just have to close the door so Aika doesn't come down and have herself a party. She's a good dog, but I'm not about to tempt her."

Shane carefully slid off of Sy's lap, attempting not to make too much of a mess, grabbed her panties and slipped them on for the walk to Sy's room.

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

The musical chiming of Sy's phone alarm came too damned early. They'd barely slept, not wanting to waste a moment together. When they finally nodded off after their last round of fervent love-making, they wrapped themselves around one another and were both out like lights in no time. Now he was untangling himself from her to turn the noise off and presumably begin the process of getting ready to leave for the airport. He only snoozed it, though, and pulled her more tightly against his bare, hairy chest.

"What time is it?" She asked, bleary from lack of sleep and extreme fatigue. Not that she was complaining.

"Seven. But my flight doesn't leave until 10, and it's just from the base. There's a flight leaving there for  Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport and I'm hitchin' a ride with them."

"Oh good. I had anticipated we'd have to drive to Springfield, or even St. Louis this morning." She would do it for Sy, of course, but she wasn't looking forward to a six hour minimum round trip, half of which she would have to make alone.

"Nah, and I'm hoping to work something out for the return trip, too, but I'll let you know about that, then. I've made those open ended, though, because I don't know about the return date."

"Sure. God, that's so…crazy. Not in a bad way, just, I can't imagine leaving home without a clear plan on when I'd be back. Of course, knowing it won't be more than a month helps, I guess."

"Yeah."

"And really, a part of me has dreamed of living a sort of nomadic existence since I was very young, so I definitely see the romance in it."

"Totally agree. Hey, I'm hungry. How about we get ready and I'll buy ya breakfast?" He seemed evasive, but she was hungry, too, so she let it go.

"Sounds great!"

They got up and showered together, keeping the sexy time to a minimum given the current time constraints they'd now placed upon themselves. If they didn't hurry, they'd never get out of Cracker Barrell in time to get him to the base.

He loaded his bag in her cargo space and they headed off to the restaurant, which was hopping with traffic on a Saturday morning, as was expected. But since there were only two of them, they got a table without waiting.

They ordered coffees, and Cokes, not super healthy, but hey, this wasn't a daily occurrence. It was a splurge.

Sy ordered some massive and meaty breakfast spread that sounded like a heart attack waiting to happen, while Shane kept it simple with biscuits and gravy and a side of fruit…also, she stole a strip of Sy's bacon. Again…she was a weak woman.

The conversation was light and friendly and lovey…until the time came to leave. Sy picked up the check and took it to the counter to pay and then led her out the double doors back to her vehicle.

"You'll be able to FaceTime me on evenings you haven't gone walkabout in the wilderness, right?"

"I'm not sure they call it that outside of Australia, or even the Crocodile Dundee movies, but yeah, we'll plan on that, for sure."

"Good. I'll miss you so much. But at least I have a pretty good idea of when you'll be back." she was spouting excitedly, but he was being rather cagey again. He piped up with three words that never start off a good sentence.

"Yeah, about that…" she looked at him as they closed the doors to her Explorer, waiting for him to continue…hoping for good news, but expecting bad.

"I got an email last night…late…that I…that the training…might take longer than they told me at first." he winced for the impact of her reception of the anticipated bad news.

"Longer…uh-huh. How much longer?" she asked, backing out of her parking space.

"Ya know if you back into these spaces you don't have to worry about--"

"Really? This is the moment you want to man-splain the concepts of parking to me, Sy? I'll save you the trouble. My dad couldn't get me to do it, and I don't see you having any success, either. Now, how much longer?"

"I don't…they didn't give a concrete--"

"Give me your best guess based on what you know. Give me a range. A ballpark, if you will."

"Uhh…two or three more…weeks…than planned." he winced as she drove toward Fort Leonard Wood Army Base from the peaceful breakfast joint. It was rather poetic, really, since the conversation had turned from relaxed to militant. And they were driving from civilian territory into a land of combatants. Not a war zone, but a zone of warriors, perhaps. And she was ready for battle, herself.

"Sy. That's more than six weeks."

"I know." he said, his eyes downcast in some combination of shame, fear, and sadness.

"And you're…fine with it?" she prodded, prompting him to consider her.

"Of course I don't like it. I'm gonna hate being away from my sunshine for even a week. But this is…it's about who I am. Who I'm meant to be from now on. I have to find my way from here, Shane."

"I guess my only question is…where do I fit into this…path. This life you're making for yourself? We're brand new. But we've worked really hard already to get where we are. And I've worked really hard to get to where I am, professionally. In my dream job. No, the circumstances aren't ideal, but the work makes me think, and gives me purpose. What am I suppose to do? Either I give that up, or I give up…the only man I've ever been with who's made me actually happy."

"I don't want that. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want you to give anything up for me, darlin.' That'll just lead to you resentin' me down the road, and I don't want that, neither." He stopped a moment and just looked at her, face holding back frustrated and angry tears…but also very sad ones. "What about this? Let's just, talk about all this moving forward stuff when I'm back from training. At that point, I'll know more about what to expect about jobs and assignments. And…if it would make you feel more comfortable…we can call ourselves…unexclusive. That way, if you meet someone while I'm gone--"

"Have you lost your mind?" She interrupted his ridiculous attempt to be selfless. She was secure enough in his feelings for her that he wasn't making the suggestion for himself.

"I'm serious. If you meet someone, and he sweeps you off your feet, don't resist. I want you to be happy, Shane."

"Then come back and teach gym at the local high school. Better yet, don't go, at all."

"You remember all that stuff you said about having your dream job and a purpose?" Shane nodded. "You want me to find all that too, don'tcha?"

"No. I'm a selfish bitch who wants you here with me no matter the cost. And I don't care if you resent me in the long run. At least I'll have you." she laughed at her sarcasm and only slightly true self-deprecation.

"You'll be fine. You managed so far without me." he reminded her as she pulled up to the gate, guarded by about four men, who's rank she couldn't tell, but one of whom Sy called a sergeant.

"I'll get out here and they'll take me to the hangar in a cart. No civilian vehicles allowed today. Apparently they're doing maneuvers." he shrugged and got out to grab his bag.

"I put the rest of the takeout in here too. It's in one of my nice coolers on ice."

"Thanks." she told her shoes as they stood under the shade of her rear access hatch. She couldn't look at him right now. He made her, though.

"This ain't quite like the airport, but I still don't have a lot of time, sunshine." he kissed her hard, and it really felt like a goodbye, which almost hurt more than his leaving. Almost. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she knew she'd feel that embrace all evening. She hoped it would last for weeks.

"I love you, Sy." she sobbed to him. Trying like hell to keep it together.

"I love you, darlin.' Now don't you forget that when some other handsome fella gives you the eye. Make sure he's worth it, if you're gonna write me a dear john letter." he winked at her. She laughed and nodded, but didn't feel it was that funny, and didn't intend to adhere to his parameters of their relationship. He ducked under the arm that was preventing her from driving through. Although, legs as long as his, he almost could have stepped over it. She watched him walk away for as long as she could before she was given the signal that she must leave and let other traffic through…although, she resented this. There were two lanes, after all. Couldn't these men see what a mess she was? She'd just had to say goodbye to the love of her life…and she didn't know when…or indeed, if…she'd see him again. She had hope…but that didn't stop her from crying all the way home and the rest of the afternoon as the ghost of Sy's parting hug faded from her skin.

Up Next: Chapter 13: SNAFU

[meandmyechoes]

The more I think about Dark Disciple, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quintress, but I also just, can’t?

I mean, yes. It’s very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. But I also, don’t really see it in that ’omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them’ sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don’t really, actively ‘ship’ it — like the way it was an open book with Rhayme or Latts Razzi (since it’s the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quintress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask how much it is tainted with my personal view on relationships.

I know the plot leaves little room for “the future” and fed us well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don’t think their relationship is "weak", but it’s very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can’t really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that’s it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It’s just… I don’t really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it’s much more a physical attraction thing that I don’t really have personal experience with.

I don’t know if quintress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I’m quite disappointed Ventress wasn’t doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it’s deliciously written, there’s not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It’s a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she’s more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she’s gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. and surprise! Our “assassination” plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I’ve read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the conventional to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the “Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos”. Now, I can’t dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there’s no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic varied person to person from the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie Lucas’s foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there’s always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you’re willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that’s a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quintress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obi-Satine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leave him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream.

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Jedi Order, I still have to do more reading on it from other sources to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj Ventress and Quinlan Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quintress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful (I guess) thing is they chose each other.

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes the contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. And I've been a canon apologist since forever. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[26th April 16:00]

I must address that I got spoiled of the ending and the first and second half of the book probably went through some big changes.

If I cried for this book, it’s score would be even higher. And I’ve been so obsessed with discussing the relationship, without shedding light on the characterization, which is definitely an unfortunate side effect. Then it occurs that quite possibly the second half (26-42) deviated even further from the script than the first? It doesn’t have concept art or blocking, plus possibly (heavily) edited to omit correlation to other arcs. My major complaint for the second half is Ventress doesn’t do much and we know NOTHING about Vos, even though he is given screen time in the book. my, I just wish Ventress punch him harder and drag his idiotic mess back to the light sooner.

And to criticism about it being their ‘toxic’ relationship being portrayed as ‘true love’, well, it really depends on how thoughtful the reader is, right? I think if the reader is able to notice all these red flags and gave their own interpretation of the relationship and its outcome, it’d’ve been an educating experience. There’s what for the reader and what for the characters. They don’t know this ‘love’ is destroying them, and what kind of message is it sending? What ‘love’ depicted in the book is true then? I have my answers, and I hope every reader comes to their own as well.

[poetic-emptiness-fanfic]

Livin’ La Vida Loca (Echoes of the Past 15: Freebie!)

Finally it is finished! I had an irritating writing block, but I’m happy it’s over now. This fic sets during the plague, when Hande is apprenticing with Julian.

The name of this fic is from a song Livin’ La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Characters: Hande Kuura & Julian Devorak

Content warning: some profanities

Words: ~3 250

@arcana-echoes

It has been a long day at the clinic – lots of patients and lots of research. Julian is tired and he can see that his apprentice is as well. She tries to put on a brave face, but he can see that she's very tense – has she had any chance to relax? They have been working together for five months, but Julian has only seen Hande at work. He has learned that Hande is extremely conscientious, fast learner and she really cares for the patients. He has also found out, that like him, Hande loves reading and it is fun to discuss about different books during their lunch breaks. Julian has grown to like her, and even see her as his friend – the busy days feel less tiring with her around.

After locking the door behind the last patient, Julian turns to Hande and smiles at her, ”Well, that was a busy one. Great work – I can't even realise how I did manage before you tagged along!” Hande chuckles to Julian's praises and shrugs, ”Thanks, but it's not just me – you really are a spectacular doctor, believe it or not.” Julian blushes by the compliment, but Hande is too polite to point it out. She just pats her teacher's hardel and goes to change to her everyday clothes. While Julian is in the other room changing himself he ponders if he should ask Hande out. They are practically colleagues and they're also friends, so it wouldn't be inappropriate. He also has a feeling that Hande is quite lonely, with her family and friends in Karnassos.

”Hey, Hande?” Julian shouts to his apprentice so she could hear her, ”Would you mind if I took you somewhere? Erm, to let our hair down, so to speak?” The doctor hears only silence for a moment, before Hande's voice echoes from another room, ”No, I wouldn't mind, that sounds nice.” Julian lets out a relieved sigh and his lips twitch into a small smile, ”Great! I can offer you something to eat as a thank you, if you wish?” He hears Hande coming back to the office while she hums in affirmative. After Julian's done, he goes to the office and sees Hande opening her hair which is tied into a French twist. Her hair is pretty long, he notes, settling to the level of her waist. Stop gawking! That's inappropriate!

Hande turns to look at Julian, looking a little embarrassed, ”I don't want to keep the same hairstyle during my free time, otherwise I'd never let go of the work stuff. It probably sounds silly...” Julian gives Hande a friendly smile and shakes his head, ”No, it doesn't sound silly at all. It's good you have ways to avoid thinking about work during your free time.” Hande smiles back, separates her hair in two parts and starts to braid the other half. Julian is looking at her procedure and his curiosity takes over, ”Uhm, may I ask what are you going to do?” Hande glances at Julian before she turns back and continues braiding, ”I'm going to make two braids and pull them over my head, like a headband. Then no one gets the opportunity to try and pull my hair.” Julian seems to think for a moment and before he can reconsider he asks, ”Do you... Do you want me to braid the other half? It'd be faster that way.” Hande turns to face Julian, looking surprised, but also a little amused, her eyebrows raising. Before Hande can say anything Julian blurts, ”Uhm, I can braid... I have a little sister... I used to braid her hair sometimes.”

Hande's eyes widen for a little moment – she didn't expect to hear something like that. She recovers from her shock quickly and beckons Julian to come closer. Julian understands that Hande has accepted his offer and tentatively starts to braid her hair. It feels slippery and soft in his hands – completely different than Pasha's hair. ”Tell me about her. Your sister, I mean,” Hande asks silently after a moment of silence. Julian chuckles and starts to tell while braiding, ”Her name is Pasha. She's three years older than you and we grew up in Nevivon together...” He continues telling about his sister while they are working on Hande's hairstyle. Hande looks satisfied and compliments Julian's work which causes the poor doctor to blush again. When the duo is ready Julian dramatically offers his arm to Hande, who laughs and with an exaggerated curtsey takes it. ”Well, Doctor Devorak, show me the way!”

***

Hande looks curiously at the sign above her head: The Rowdy Raven. She has never been here before and she's curious to see it. The place seems to be a tavern, but it looks rather cozy when she peeks through the window. Still, she can't help feeling a little nervous – what if she ends up being too obviously out of place? Well, fortune favors the brave, as they say... Hande lets Julian lead her into the tavern. They're welcomed with loud laughter and music playing in the background – there's a band playing in a corner. That makes Hande feel herself more at home, if you could call a tavern a home.

The young woman looks around her. There are locals and people from abroad, all of them having a good time chatting or playing cards with each other. People who notice her and Julian entering turn to greet her teacher with joy on their faces. Hande tenses a little, because it is clear, that Julian is very popular person in here, and Hande is... Well, she's here for the first time in her life, although she's lived in Vesuvia for almost a year. Julian squeezes Hande with his arm reassuringly, ”I'd get us some food and drinks. Do you have any wishes?” Hande looks a little pensive, but she decides it's better to speak than stay silent. ”Uhm... Are there... Are there any non-alcoholic drinks? I'm a teetotaler...” she whispers uncertainly.

Julian freezes on the spot. Shit. Congratulations, you've fucked up and brought a teetotaler to a tavern.. You idiot... His faces turns red again and he sputters, ”I-I'm sorry! I didn't know that...” Hande notices Julian's panicking and hurries to assuring him, ”No, no, it's fine! I don't mind others drinking, well at least if they're not steaming... I've just never amused to drink alcohol myself... It isn't because of any belief, if that's any comfort...” Julian is surprised, how Hande is nervous about his reaction, and can't help but smile to her, ”No, you don't need to worry! I don't mind at all, and you're not obliged to explain your reasons, if you don't want to. There should be also some non-alcoholic drinks, so no harm done.” Hande smiles to him thankfully which makes Julian a little giddy. No, concentrate. Go and order your food and drinks!

Hande waits by a table when Julian gives their orders to a barkeeper. The young woman glances around, observing other patrons curiously, wondering where some of them might come from. Soon Julian comes back with their drinks. ”Barth said he'll bring the food soon,” he says, handing her a glass with lime green liquid in it. ”I hope you like this one, I wasn't quite sure what to get,” Julian says, looking a little embarrassed. Hande smiles at him reassuringly and takes a little sip from her drink. It's suitably sweet with citrus aroma – probably lemon and lime combined. ”This is so good! Dr. Devorak, how did you manage to choose a drink I like so much?” Hande asks sounding impressed, which makes the poor Julian to blush again. ”Well, erm... I wish I could say it was intuition, but... uhm... I remember how you once told me you like lemons so...” the man stammers. Now it's Hande's turn to get embarrassed; she doesn't blush visibly, but she can feel her cheeks burn. Julian remembers random things I've mentioned to him? ”You're way too good friend for me... I really am flattered, that you remember my ramblings.”

A little later Barth, the barkeeper, brings their meals in front of them and they eat in comfortable silence, sometimes asking or commenting something. Hande finds the tavern's atmosphere a little rowdy, but not hostile, and she feels more at ease. It's nice to spend time with Julian and see him outside of their work. Suddenly Hande's concentration turns to a discussion a few tables away. There are four men discussing in a foreign language which Hande recognises as Hjallean. She gets excited – she hasn't met any people from her mother's hometown for a long time. She apologises Julian and turns to face the men, ”Förlåt mig. Är ni från Hjalle?¹” The men turn to face Hande, looking positively surprised, ”Ja. Hur kan du tala hjalska, är du från där också?²” Hande smiles and answers, ”Jag föddes i Karnassos. Min mamma är från Hjalle, men hon tillhör Skogsfolket.³” The quintet continues their excited conversation. Julian smiles and watches how Hande speaks fluently in Hjallean, and listens when she finds out that the men are sailors and actually know her grandfather. Hande seems so happy to hear from her family that Julian can feel it, too. He also can't help, but to miss his own family a little.

A little later Julian also joins the conversation which causes the men and Hande to cheer in surprise. The group has a friendly conversation and orders drinks to each other, until the band starts to play a Hjallean folk song which causes the sailors and Hande to sing along. Julian can't help but notice how Hande's voice is clear and beautiful, echoing above hollering of the sailors. To be entirely honest, Julian is mesmerized my her voice – she sounds like a siren, without ill intent, of course. After the song had ended, the sailors cheer to Hande, who looks a little humbled after getting that much attention, but still has a small smile on her face. The band's leader shouts to their table, ”Since the miss sang so beautifully, you can decide our next song!” Hande glances at Julian with a confused expression on her face. Julian just smiles to her encouragingly and winks. Hande smirks and states, ”I will decide, but on one condition: I get to play it, too.”

The band leader looks curious, ”Can the miss play, as well?” Hande nods and answers, ”Yes, I can play the fiddle. I've had lessons since I was a little girl.” The other band members grin and the fiddler steps up, handing their instrument to Hande. She stands up and walks to the corner, inspecting the fiddle for a moment. After she's satisfied, she tunes the instrument and asks, ”Do you know this song?” Hande plays a little part as a sample and the band leader chuckles and agrees. The leader gives a mark about starting the song and Hande joins the band. Julian is awed: this woman doesn't have a single drop of alcohol in her, and she still is having the time of her life. Joyful, wonderful singer and player even – and she's never mentioned any of that to him. This fascinating combination of humbleness and showmanship. Julian watches how Hande's fingers move on the fiddle, how concentrated she is. The song is a little melancholic, but still eventful and fast. The world seems to disappear: there's only music and Hande.

The enchantment is broken when the song ends. Hande remembers where she is and is a little flabbergasted by her courage, but is happy that she played. She doesn't remember when was the last time she had this much fun – in Julian's company she feels at ease, like her old self is coming back to life after so many years. Hande turns to see Julian who is cheering and applauding to them with the others at the tavern. The band leader thanks her when she gives the fiddle back to its owner and returns to her companion. ”Wow... I didn't know you could sing or play!” Julian compliments when she sits down. Hande lowers her gaze for a moment, but soon looks up and shrugs, ”Well... You don't need singing or playing when you're trying to be a doctor's apprentice. To be honest, complimenting myself is really hard for me, and I got this temporary moment of courage. I haven't played in front of an audience for years.” Julian smiles to Hande and feels warmth inside of him – he isn't sure if it's because of alcohol or his company. Concentrate. She's your apprentice. Julian clears his throat and speaks again, ”Did you like it? Playing in front of an audience, I mean.” Hande seems pensive before she gives a hesitant answer, ”Yes.”

Before Julian can say or do anything else, one of the sailors cut in. ”You should be proud of yourself, you really did great back there! Was that a Forestian song? I recognised it, but I'm not sure.” Hande turns to face the sailors and nods, ”Yes. I was surprised the band knew it, but it was fun. Karnassian music is much more popular, so it's nice to hear Hjallean ones for a change.” The group continues their conversation, but Julian is mostly concentrated on Hande. When they are telling about their work to the sailors, Julian, now a little tipsy, tells in surprising excitement, ”Yes... But you know what? Hande here, she... She can do MAGIC!” Hande doesn't have time to react before the sailors gasp in excitement and plead her to show them. Julian now realises he might have screwed up and tries to come to her rescue, but Hande speaks after a little silence, ”Would you like to hear a story? I can illustrate it with magic.” The sailors and even Julian show their enthusiasm for the idea. One of the sailors suggest a scary story and Hande proceeds, telling a Karnassian story about a jinn who fell in love with a human, but in time the human went mad for being so close to the jinn.

Probably for the first time in his life, Julian is awed by seeing magic. The light figures dancing in the air while Hande tells the story such a fascinating way make Julian feel giddy, almost like a child again. Being with Hande here and how... radiant she is, it's nearly overwhelming. The story is indeed scary, but he can't help but smile at her, and his heart jumps when Hande gives him a little smile back with her sparkling eyes. Other patrons have also gathered around watching the spectacle and shower Hande with compliments after the story is over. The sailors try to ask her to tell another, but Hande chuckles, ”I'm sorry, guys, but magic can be very taxing and I don't want to exhaust myself after a long day.” The sailors groan in disappointment, but still pat Hande on her shoulders, buying her one more drink. Julian hasn't bought any more drinks, because he tries not to get steaming, like Hande had expressed earlier – he doesn't want to make Hande feel uncomfortable. The music is compelling and he'd like to ask Hande to dance, but isn't sure if it's appropriate.

After a short internal debate, his reason seems to leave him, when Hande turns to look at him. Julian hasn't noticed it before, but now Hande's eyes look so beautiful, almost like the deep, blue water. His body starts to move on its own: he reaches his hand towards Hande, palm up and his mouth opens before he can think of it, ”Oh, miss Kuura... Would you like to have a dance with me?” Hande watches Julian's hand and laughs goodheartedly to his dramatic request. Julian is pretty sure Hande's thinking is pretending, but he still feels a little nervous. Finally Hande decides to save her teacher, ”Yes, I'd like that. Though, I must warn you, I haven't danced for a long time. I might be quite rusty.” Julian just chuckles and reassures his apprentice by saying that she'll be fine. Hande smiles to Julian again and gives her hand to him.

Julian places his hand on Hande's waist chastely and leads her to dance. His apprentice is a little tense at first, probably because they're first time this close to each other and because she is nervous about her dancing skills. ”Just relax, I got you,” Julian whispers to Hande, smiling to her reassuringly. Hande takes a deep breath and nods, trying to smile back, although the final result is a little lopsided. The current song is quite fast, just perfect for Julian. He guides Hande who seems to trust him enough and let the music, rhythm and Julian lead her. After a moment she relaxes and the dance feels more natural. Julian enjoys being this close to Hande, seeing her feeling comfortable in his arms. She's so vibrant, so beautiful... I haven't noticed it before. Julian tries to shake off his thoughts and have a little conversation with his apprentice, complimenting her dancing and telling how nice the evening has been. Hande smiles to him which makes him feel weak in his knees. She enjoys my company, her laughter, so full of joy. It almost makes me forget the current situation...

The dance is enchanting and Julian wants the moment to never end. The band starts to play a different song, much more speedy than the last one. This causes Julian to get an idea. He faces Hande with a little smirk on his face. ”Hande, do you trust me?” he asks. Hande looks at Julian a little hesitant, but then lets out a little laugh, ”Yes, I do trust you, Julian. But please, don't kill me.” Hande's last remark causes Julian to bark a laughter and whisper into her ear, ”I wouldn't dream of it.” He tightens his grip of Hande and leads her to the outskirts of the dance floor. Hande only gets a little warning to brace herself, before Julian lifts her, so she's now standing on a chair, and he soon follows suit. Then he rises on a longer table, taking Hande with her. She lets out a surprised yelp, but recovers soon. ”Why, Julian, are you suggesting, that we'd dance on the table?” Hande whispers her question, and Julian can hear her mischievous tone. Oh gods, she's a treasure.

Julian's smirk gets wider and he twirls Hande around before starting to dance properly. The band speeds up and patrons cheer to the duo while some of them try to save their pints. None of the things on the table gets knocked – Hande lets Julian lead her and he's done this before so he is very confident with his partner. The Rowdy Raven is filled with music, cheering and Hande's and Julian's laughter. Suddenly Hande takes the charge and dips Julian in the middle of the table, making him grab Hande for his life. Now it's Hande's turn to smirk and she leans in to whisper to Julian, ”Thank you, Julian. I didn't realise I needed this.” Julian blushes, but manages to give Hande a bashful smile, when Hande lifts him up and they continue their dance. Julian forgets everyone else and just gaze at Hande mesmerized, feeling happy for the first time for gods know how long. This intelligent, warm-hearted and beautiful person is dancing with him, smiling at him.

Oh shit. I think I have a crush.  

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”Excuse me. Are you from Hjalle?

² ”Yes. How can you talk Hjallean, are you from there, too?”

³ ”I was born in Karnassos. My mom is from Hjalle, but she belongs to Forest people.”

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