#i have asks from a literal year ago in my inbox

[suguwu]

Hi Bee!!! I hope your Friday is going well. Just wondering if Tumblr ate this idea i send you about gym owner Knives. Anyways 😘 hope you weekend plans are perfect for you and your day goes as smooth as your writing.

hi and happy friday! mine is going good (aka i'm binging bridgerton). tumblr did not eat it! i am just slow af about answering asks jsldkfjsdf i'm trying to get better about it but jury's out on how well i manage that :'))))

i hope your friday is wonderful and that your weekend is kind!!

[nebulous-rain]

getting back into msa and found your blog-- and oH MY GOD YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY. it was wild going through your art tag and going "WAIT THAT WAS BY THIS ARTIST?? THAT WAS BY THIS ARTIST TOO?????" it was wonderful. I love it.

HAKSJFHSLKD I KNOW sometimes i go looking back through my old stuff and through the cringe i'm amazed at how much my style has developed since i started. i absolutely Hate some of the things i posted but i'm happy to know that some of you still enjoy them

i really miss when i could draw that much in high school- college has been SUPER demanding cuz i'm practically double-majoring

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

[yazmarina]

super trouper

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"part of a success that never ends, still i'm thinking about you only " (super trouper by abba)

charles leclerc (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: exes to ?, hint of second chance romance

a/n: short and sweet on my return. i hope all the charles girlies and non-girlies like this <3

You really shouldn't be here. You had no reason to turn up at this race weekend, save for the fact that your friend was also going and she urged you to go for her sake.

Right. You're doing this for her. No one else. Certainly not for the hometown hero.

His face is everywhere and so are the eyes that seem to gape at you. People's eyes follow you with curiosity, double takes and soft gasps when they realize who you are.

It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes under the heat of their stares. Are they not aware that I live literally a bus ride away? I spend half of my time in Monaco, anyway. Why is everyone freaked out that I'm here?

You can already read the gossip headlines in your mind.

"Do you want to grab some lunch first?" Your friend asks, gesturing to the huge hospitality building that overlooked the pitlane.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be indoors and away from prying eyes. "Sure."

The two of you make your way inside and you're relieved to see that people are sparse here, not a single one of them giving you any mind. You settle in a booth at the very end of the floor, letting your friend have a go first at the buffet of food laid out.

You idle with your phone for a bit, already seeing your inbox count tick upward. You've been here for an hour and it seems as if the whole paddock has already seen you.

You lock your phone in frustration.

You really shouldn't have come. Not when the breakup barely six months ago was shrouded in so much speculation and drama. It's not as if your relationship with Charles exploded into a world-stopping mess. It just slowly but surely crumbled, all the gossip chipping away at the love you once shared. You know all this was part of it—the dedicated pages to scrutinizing you, your looks, your behavior, the news about you and your ex still coming out half a year after you split, the constant barrage of questions about Charles, Charles, always about Charles.

But it was indeed always about Charles.

Even you being here, in Monte Carlo today, was about him.

You promised you'd see him race at home when you were still together. It wasn't your fault the relationship would be that short-lived.

But, still. You promised.

You unlock your phone once more, opening up the message thread you had with Charles. The last text was from him, asking if you'd be in France this week. You never answered back.

'Hi Charles.'

You cringe at the formality but with a deep breath, you continue to type.

'Yes, I'm still here. I'll be watching today with a friend. Wishing you all the luck :)'

-

The grip you had on your seat could have been enough to crush someone's hand.

The wide-screen TV in hospitality flashed the bright red Ferrari of your ex-boyfriend, leading the race, five laps away from victory. A victory at his home race, with his dream team, his people cheering him on.

Your heart hammers against your chest and you feel rigid all over, nerves and anticipation taking ahold of you. Your friend looks over and you meet her eyes, and you know at that moment what she's thinking. She smiles, reaching for your hand, and squeezes.

Regardless of what became of you and Charles, it's hard not to feel as if this was your dream too. All the late nights and missed dates and the pain and scrutiny were for this. For him to achieve this very dream.

You feel tears start to well in your eyes as Charles enters his final lap. The people around you are already jumping out of their seats, egging him on, closer and closer to the chequered flag.

As Charles drives past the finish line, the whole world seems to erupt in cheers but it's all tuned out as your tears start to finally fall. You don't notice the gentle shake of your shoulders as hundreds of emotions crash down on you.

You let your friend pull you into a hug, hiding your tear-streaked face from the world.

The podium celebrations right after didn't help much with your attempt at keeping a casual, level-headed facade. Your nose is stuffy and you haven't stopped crying since the race ended. The slow recognition from the people around you isn't lost on you, either.

But it's hard to care when Charles stands on the top step of the podium, beaming as his national anthem blares. It's more difficult yet, fighting the urge to run to wherever he is just so you could jump into his arms and tell him how proud of him you are, how much you miss him, how much you still love him.

Instead, you turn to your friend, hicupping through your tears as you ask if they can come with you back to the paddock.

-

"You're here."

You smile sheepishly as Charles stops just as he's about to enter the Ferrari motorhome. The calls of his name and murmur from the fans around you tailing him through the paddock are drowned out, your whole body seemingly rooted in place as the familiar green eyes look into yours.

"Yes," you respond plainly, suddenly at a loss for words. Clearing your throat, you step closer and Charles automatically opens his arms for a hug.

"Congratulations, Cha," you say, voice muffled into his shoulder as he pulls you against his chest.

"Thank you." Charles beams at you as he pulls away. The smell of champagne is still strong on him but you pay it no mind, wanting nothing more than for everyone to disappear so you could share even a fraction of a moment with him. Just him.

"Did you cry, mon cœur?" Charles asks, looking at you closely. Your jaw drops open at his use of your old pet name and he, too, pauses and blinks as he realizes what he's done.

Charles laughs, a hint of nervousness in his voice, and you can't help but giggle along. It's awkward and it's not ideal, but being this close to him brings a certain ache in your heart, more sweet than painful.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Charles declares, gently taking hold of your arm. "Promise. I'll see you."

You nod, smiling up at him. Tears prickle in your eyes again and you quickly blink them away, mortified at what everyone would think about you crying in front of your ex after his home race win.

Charles leans in and delivers a peck on your cheek, quickly rubbing your back before turning to finally enter the motorhome. He gives you one last wave before disappearing behind the glass doors.

[xclowniex]

You're a zionist Arab Jew? Are you also a member of the Snow Leopards Eating My Face party? Are you white passing enough that zionists don't know you're Arab or do you just hate yourself? Are you unaware of the unabashed anti Arab racism that Israelis spout out every day on social media? Or do you think you're just "one of the good ones"?

Time for everyone's favorite game show!

"What deranged shit in Clownie's inbox today!"

To turn to a more serious note, Whilst I do not not live in Israel, my family does.

My family have only faced minimal racism for being arab, mainly stuff back in school years ago. I do not speak for all arab jews or even all Arabs in Israel, but that is mu family's experience. Just schoolyard racist teasing which is obviously not a good thing, but isn't a problem anymore than anywhere else in the world.

My family has full rights as other arab citizens do and other jews do.

Most jews I speak to have no problem with me being arab too. Do anti arab jews exist? Probably as no group is a monolith. I have just not encountered any yet, which is again, just my experience.

Zionism is also not an anti arab ideology inherently. Zionism literally just means wanting self determination in Southern Levant. That looks like a lot of different things, however most jews who are zionist believe in either a two state solution or a land for all solution which allows for jewish self determination and Palestinian self determination.

I think it's also important for me to say that I do not know which arab country my arabness comes from due to my family being told to "leave or die" a few generations back because they were also jewish. I really wish that history had not been forgotten in the past 4 generations but it has.

When it comes to my appearance, is white passing something you ask every other poc on this site? Or just arab jews.

For your information, I am not white passing, I look mixed. People can tell that I'm not white. I have faced anti arab sentiment and racism before too because of how I look. I've even had someone think I was the cousin of an arab acquaintance too if that gives you a better idea surrounding my appearance.

I would have a better time in Israel as an arab jew than I would in most arab countries as an arab jew. Also there is a decent community of arab jews in Israel as well.

Lastly I would like to leave you with this, if your world view is threatened by an arab jew being a two state solution zionist, then your world view is weak and not at all based in reality.

I an arab jew, am holding hands with all other arab jews, non Jewish arab and non arab jews. Fuck off with your arabs vs jews rhetoric

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[buckys-little-belle]

Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

[seiya234]

happy tauniversary

this post is kind of late, because i was out with my kid all day at the corn maze.

a lot has changed since we started TAU

ten years ago I had been in maryland all of two months. my then-fiancee and i had moved from texas, where we both had lived our entire lives. i was not only planning our wedding (in texas!) but i was also starting my ph.d.

to say that i had a lot going on would be a huge understatement.

i had just gotten into gravity falls via tumblr- shout out to whoever made a gif set from 'the hand that rocks the mabel'- when i ran across zoey's original two to three posts. to this day i couldn't entirely tell you why my brain seized on this au, other than it did and it immediately went into hyperfocus mode.

before TAU, i hadn't really written any fanfic except for some discworld au and some drabbles here and there. but a post about future niblings really inspired me and before i knew it i was writing.

i started messaging @zillychu a LOT and god bless their heart they humored me and answered back. after about a month of accumulated posts they created the blog and began to mod it with @homebeccer and @ghostfiish . There was a brief period where @zillychu was thinking about stepping back from the blog and because i was an extremely over eager beaver, i practically kicked down the door of their inbox and begged to be a mod.

the rest, as they say, is history.

i had absolutely zero idea that this would last ten years. when i joined, i had no idea that we'd have a skype channel and then two (two!) discords, that there would be a wiki, that there would be fanvids and tiktoks and cosplay and of course the literal terabytes of fic and art.

to this day, it still thrills me to no end that y'all make art and fic of my OCs. never in my wildest dreams as a tiny baby weeb would i have ever thought that THAT would be a possibility.

a lot has changed for me in these ten years. i got married. i recently got divorced. i had a baby, and now that baby is a big girl and in kindergarten. it took dont-ask-how-long but i finally got the ph.d and now shamelessly introduce myself as Dr. Seiya everywhere i go.

and i made friends. @haberdashing and @avafalls from our early days (hey habby and avagator!) @skia-oura sent me a beautiful baby kimono from their home in Japan and I still have the beautiful log and flower arrangement @oreramar made me one christmas. (the hot chocolate is long gone lol) i've enjoyed so very deeply getting to know @toothpastecanyon, @feferipeixes and @avespecora (sorry i missed the eclipse!) i almost got detained at the canadian border for @marypsue (spoiler alert, don't tell canadian immigration you're staying with a friend from the internet but you don't know their home address)

the blog almost got deleted. we've had mods come and go as life happens and moves on. the blog is old enough i've been able to see trends happen, and characters become popular, fade away... then coming roaring back again. i've personally told the mods two times that i was stepping back from the blog For Real For Real (for real this time) because life was catching up to me and I just wasn't as in to it as I used to be only to come slinking back like the dirty liar I am. i see in your notes all the time that you all have been reading this since you were tweenagers which ngl does make me feel the cold breath of the grave on my mid-thirties back but also warms my heart.

@transcendence-au changed my life, and for the better.

thank you @zillychu for making a random one off hc post that exploded into something i don't think you could have ever predicted.

and thank you all (yes, you. you in the back. i like your shirt.) for your support and your love.

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, seventy-four

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

AN: Well, babes, this is it. The final effing chapter of IDWTW. When I started writing this, almost exactly four years ago (chapter 1 posted on may 29, 2020!), I had no idea what it would become. I thought it was going to be vv casual prompt-based high school pining vignettes, simply to rewrite my own version of Dawson’s Creek – if you’ve ever wondered why it was called IDWTW, that’s why! It was a temp title that stuck! – but 375k+ words later… it’s become so much more. And that is because of YOU. Whether you have been here since 2020 or you joined along the way or you're finding this years after the face, I am infinitely grateful. I don’t know that I would have been able to pull through the last few years without your kindness and enthusiasm for these two idiots (and their friends and fam). I have loved telling this story, but mostly, I’m grateful that this journey introduced me to so many incredible humans and created a community of babes I will hold near and dear to my heart for literally ever (it’s true, I loved one of you so much that I drove across the country to meet her, and in a few short months she will be my WIFE!). This story brought so much good into my life, and I am hella proud to finally conclude it. From the incredible creators who made fanart, to the essays of comments on each chapter, to the back and forth of discussing consent, sexuality, and reproductive rights in my inbox, every gif, comment, reblog, message, ask, and interaction of any kind has been a joy. Thank you.

With all of that said, let’s wrap this mother up.

A soft glowing circle lit up the black beneath Aelin’s feet. Her stomach tightened as she rested on one leg and hitched to the side in a slow exhale. Her breath centered her as she pulled her pointed toes up her calf until it extended into a slow and steady develope. Just as she had barely met the apex of her leg’s vertical reach, she exhaled again and twirled to the floor. The music cascaded over her as she continued to move, her muscles moving on autopilot into seamless choreography. She had beaten out several far more senior company members for this solo and had practiced it so many times that it lived within her, sure to remain there for the rest of time.  With each of her graceful steps, the spotlight followed her and swathed her in its golden column, as if she were being beamed up into the sky above. With how much lift she got in her leaps, she felt like she was, too. Finally, the bass came in signaling the end of her solo and for the rest of the company to join her on stage, but even as the spot widened until it cast a bright haze across the floor, the floor remained empty.

Confused, she looked into the wings, but all she saw was blackness, not even the barely there violet glow of the stage manager’s lamp. She was grateful for her muscle memory, as her limbs continued their practiced movements as her brain whirled in confusion and panic. She was mid-twirl when the music came to an abrupt stop, and she had to put her entire energy into not tumbling over her own foot. When she finally regained her balance, she looked up and around in confusion. The audience, which she’d thought was packed, was emptied out, only one solitary figure remained. Even barely lit and in silhouette, Aelin would recognize her mother’s haughty posture and signature bouffant. Her slow, delicate clap was a stark contrast to the thrumming pulse of Aelin’s heart pounding against her rib cage.

“Mom?” she breathed, barely a whisper but it still echoed through the empty theater.

“A child bride,” Evalin replied with disgust.

Aelin’s brow shot up. “H-how did you—?”

Evalin cut her off. “You thought you could steal my wedding dress from my closet, and I wouldn’t know about it?”

Aelin looked down in confusion, but sure enough, her recital clothes had transformed into the ivory strapless column sheath she used to admire as a small girl. Rhoe had kept their wedding photo in his bedroom long after Evalin left, only removing the photo when a young Aelin commented with a wistful sigh that she’d never seen Rhoe smile the way he did in the black and white snapshot. The dress was stunning in its simplicity, all clean lines and structured satin.

Her hands pressed against the fabric, as if knowing this wasn’t right, but unsure of the how or why. A soft tinkling laugh drifted across the room, and Aelin’s eyes darted to the noise, hopeful that someone had come to save her from this bizarre encounter and nearly collapsed in relief when Rowan’s shock of icy hair appeared in the doorway.

He looked as handsome as ever in his lacrosse jersey, a wide grin on his face and a giant trophy in his hands. Her smile matched his, realizing that he must have come here straight from his championship. Winning his championship.

“Rowan!” she called out, but he didn’t look up. Instead, he offered his free arm to the source of the tinkling laughter. A beautiful woman accepted his bicep and wrapped both her manicured hands around his forearm possessively. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the top of her head in a gesture so familiar that it physically hurt Aelin to watch. “Rowan?” she called out again, this time much quieter.

Evalin’s cruel bark of laughter was the only response she received. “You offered him everything, and it still wasn’t enough. You’ll never leave this small town. You really are your father’s daughter.”

“No,” Aelin told her mom emphatically. “NO!”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“NO!” Aelin screamed again as unwitting tears streamed down her cheeks, hot under the persisting spotlight. “R-rowan!” she choked out, but he couldn’t hear her, too enraptured by the woman in his arms, eyes — and ears, apparently — only for her. “Rowan!” she sobbed. She went to leap off the stage, but she was caught mid-air, her back hitting something with such a force that it knocked the wind of her.

“Ace?” Rowan’s voice was in her ear, his hand rubbing at her back as she gasped for air. She cracked her eyes open and sagged as she realized that she was safely wrapped in Rowan’s firm embrace. “Whoa, you’re okay.” His voice was a reassuring balm to her heart, which felt bloody and bruised.

“I’m okay,” she forced out, though it came out so shaky that Rowan pulled back to peer into her eyes. She wanted to avert her gaze, hopeful that he wouldn’t be able to see the panic that was still coursing through her body, but the dark green of his irises calmed her, so she stared and focused and thought of things that reminded her of the deep shade of Rowan’s eyes. Emeralds. Yulemas garlands. The long row of lockers in their gym room. Grass and trees in the setting summer sun. The jade plant that Maeve claimed brought her good luck that sat on her kitchen counter. Moss. Green tea leaves. The fake snake he’d placed in her bed every prank week. That knocked her out of her tranquil stupor, and she couldn’t help but frown at him.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” he said, but continued to rub circles into the tense space between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Aelin shrugged. “It was weird.” She paused for a long while, trying to think of how to tell him about it. “My dance showcase went off the rails?”

Her admission had its intended effect. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the soft spot of skin behind her ear. “Well, that’s silly, brain,” he said, letting his kisses trail up to the side of her temple. “You already crushed your showcase.”

She grinned in response. It was true. She had crushed the showcase, and Rowan had been there just as she’d dreamed in his jersey and trophy in hand. They’d gone into double overtime, and he’d barely made it to her opening solo. With seconds to spare, he’d slid into a seat in the front row, so she’d be sure to see him cheering her on. But she’d known it the whole time. She could feel his gaze on her as she twirled across the stage. The end of that performance had been, well… not the same as her brain had rewritten it. But, Rowan was right. Her brain was being silly.

“Maybe it’s just acting out because someone kept me up all night,” she said, loving the way that Rowan’s ears still turned pink.

“It’s not my fault,” Rowan said, but his blush said otherwise.

“Sure it’s not,” she said with a lascivious smile.

To celebrate their final week of high school, Aelin and Rowan had planned a movie marathon on Maeve’s rooftop. It included a trifecta of essential graduation movies: Can’t Hardly Wait, Booksmart, and Grease. But what she hadn’t realized was that Rowan wouldn’t be able to help himself from singing along. And he knew what his singing voice did to Aelin’s libido. She couldn’t help herself. Somewhere in the middle of Greased Lightning, the movies were all but forgotten as the pair tangled themselves in each other.

Stretching his limbs to the sky, Rowan looked like a literal god. The early morning sun cast a glow across his stern brow and strong nose, making him look as chiseled as a marble statue.

“If you keep that up, I’m taking you right back to bed,” he said of her lusty gaze and hooded eyes. He poked her side, eliciting a loud squeal.

“Whatever,” she laughed. “It’s not like we have anywhere to be today.”

It was true. Today was the last Monday of the year. AKA, senior skip day. And she’d purposefully not committed to joining anyone’s plans, so she and Rowan could extend their marathon if they wanted to – she also had High School Musical 3, She’s All That, and Dazed & Confused lined up — or just laze around all day. But they had time. Considering where the sun was, it was still very, very early. She imagined Maeve would be in the midst of morning service and briefly considered heading downstairs to grab them some coffee and croissants, but instead she laid back onto the mattress and fluffed a pillow beneath her head. Rowan followed, nuzzling onto her chest. She stroked his hair, not wanting to separate herself from him with the tendrils of her dream still lingering in her consciousness.

“Last week of senior year,” he said. “In three days we’ll be high school graduates. How do you feel?”

“Terrified,” Aelin said, the word blurting out before she could filter it back. Damn that coffee-free brain.

She could feel Rowan tense slightly, but he let her early morning admission slide, and she was grateful for it. “Mm, me too,” he agreed. “The lacrosse boys signed up to do a car wash for community service day, and I’m worried I’m going to see things I can’t unsee,” he said with a shudder.

Aelin couldn’t help but snort. While today was a skip day, tomorrow was a service day. Each senior had to do some sort of community service in order to graduate. Ridiculous. Not like they hadn’t all passed their classes already. She supposed the sentiment was nice, but as someone who’d been volunteering with the hospital for the last two years, it felt a bit shallow. Unauthentic. Forced, if you will. And the athletic teams always used it as an excuse to strip down to their skivvies and wash horny housewives’ cars for an exorbitant amount of money. At least it was better than the Boy Toy auction Lorcan had told them they’d finally outlawed because of the gross raunch factor.

“Just tell them to use a sponge and that their junk isn’t for rubbing against dirty cars,” Aelin advised. Rowan groaned loudly.

“Great, now I can never close my eyes again,” he whined.

“Are the cheerleaders also doing the car wash?” Aelin asked, definitely not thinking about her dream at all. But Rowan was definitely not going to let that comment slide. His head popped up, and she found herself ensconced in his shadow as he peered down at her with an accusatory glare.

“I think a few of them are,” he said. “But… you remember that I’m about to marry you, right?”

“A lot of married people cheat, Rowan,” she said, pushing him off. She hadn’t meant to be so pouty about it, but she couldn’t get the image of his arms wrapped around that dream woman out of her mind.

Rowan looked rightfully hurt, the corners of his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed as he stared her down. “You cannot be serious.” He knocked at her temple. “This has gone beyond your brain being silly. We are so many years beyond this. Do you have amnesia?” He knocked again. “Helloooo, Aelin, are you in there? Have you been possessed by the ghost of your past self?”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, pushing his hand away, but he persisted.

“No,” he said, pulling his pants from last night on. He searched for his shirt briefly, but unable to find it, he simply turned toward Aelin in stoic silence, arms crossed over his bare chest and face looking discontent. “I’m not going to let you say shit like that, Ace. That’s…” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. To be fair, she was exasperating. “That’s hurtful. To me. I know you’re scared about the future, but I thought we established that I’m in this with you.”

Aelin scrambled to her feet. “We did.”

“So…?”

He stood there, tapping his fingers against his bicep which was curled protectively around his torso still. Not letting her in. Waiting.

But she couldn’t explain it to him. That lingering nagging feeling of insecurity and worry and failure. So instead, she apologized. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was good enough for now.

. . .

Instead of spending senior ditch day in bed, Aelin and Rowan joined their friends for a never ending picnic day in the park. Which wasn’t exactly what Aelin had wanted, but she had a feeling that she needed to loosen the reins on her panic, lest she piss him off even more. She had a feeling that maybe she’d loosened things too much, though, when she realized midway through her community service day that she hadn’t heard from Rowan in hours. She’d been helping the hospice section of the hospital, which was designated for those who needed round the clock medical care. Their rooms varied from being fully decked out with medical equipment and monitors to the one she was in, which simply had a low bed, a tv, and a chair. Not a monitor in sight. Had she not known the woman needed constant care and surveillance each time she rose from her chair to go to the bathroom, she would have thought she was in someone’s grandmother’s house. As the woman made her tenth trip to the bathroom, Aelin took out her phone. Just to peek. There was no text from Rowan, btu there was one from Dorian. It was a link to a TikTok with the side eye emoji, and she clicked it quickly.

She watched as washboard abs and pecs were drenched with soapy suds as they washed dirt-ridden cars. She bit her lip as Rowan came into view, his muscles rippling as he reached across the hood, his biceps flexing and unflexing with each wipe.

“Mmmmm,” Aelin’s elderly patient hummed appreciatively over her shoulder as she exited the bathroom and spotted the phone screen. She scrambled to put it back in her pocket, but her patient simply chuckled dryly as she snatched the phone into her wiry grasp. “A friend of yours?” she asked curiously, peering up from the screen where the video was replaying.

“Boyfriend,” Aelin admitted, her cheeks burning.

“Lucky girl,” the woman giggled, her hazel eyes alight with joy as she handed the phone back to Aelin where it made its way back into her pocket quickly. “What are you doing spending your time here with an old fuddy-duddy like me?” Aelin was about to protest, but the woman continued. “What’s his name?”

“Rowan,” she finally said as the woman wrapped herself in a thin blanket and tucked herself into her favorite upholstered rocking chair.

“Rowan,” she repeated back. “That’s a good name. A strong name. A reliable name.”

Aelin frowned. “Reliable?”

“Well, isn’t he?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Sturdy,” the woman continued. “In more ways than one. I can tell.”

Aelin gasped, chastising the woman for her forwardness but she simply laughed it off.

“You’re right,” she whispered, as if she were letting her in on a big secret.

“Go, get out of here,” the woman laughed.

“But I still have two more hours?” Aelin said of her unsigned sheet of volunteer paper, but the woman simply shook her head and beckoned for Aelin to come closer.

“I appreciate your service,” she rasped, “But I just want to nap, and it’d be a shame for you to watch me sleep for two hours. You’ll have the rest of your life to work,” she said signing and dating Aelin’s paper for two hours in the future. “You can fuck around for a few hours.”

Aelin gasped again at the profanity, but smiled regardless.

“Thanks,” she said, but the woman had already nodded off in her chair.

. . .

“Droooooool,” Lysandra laughed as she poked Aelin’s side and pulled her out of her skin-induced stupor.

“I—”

“Were staring?” Lys cackled, following Aelin’s eyeline to where Rowan was clad only in his old red lifeguard shorts. The backs of his thighs were exposed, the hem of the shorts riding up as he leaned down to clean the back bumper of a particularly dirty sedan. Unlike his teammates who were filming each other and tossing sponges back and forth, Rowan was focused on the task at hand, making sure that the car he was working on was well-cleaned. “I hate to interrupt your literal wet dream,” she continued, “But, I wanted to invite you to a party.”

Aelin grabbed the paper from Lysandra’s hands and looked down at it.

“You’re having a party?” Aelin asked, surprised by the idea of her sober friend having the graduation rager she’d always wanted to throw.

“It’s gonna have booze,” Lys said, “But… I will not be partaking.” She cleared her throat. “I know that this year is not at all what I imagined, but I finally feel like I’m okay, and I would feel like shit if I didn’t throw the graduation party of the century.” She flicked her brown curls over her shoulder. “Just because I’m sober doesn’t mean I can’t party.”

“Certainly not,” Aelin agreed. She looked at her friend who’d been through the wringer and spit out again and had come out seemingly unscathed and couldn’t help but wonder… “Hey, Lys?” she asked before her friend could move to the next person. Lysandra looked up, eyes curious. “Do your parents know you’re having this party?”

If Lysandra was surprised by the question, she didn’t show it. Instead, she half shook her head and half shrugged. “No.”

“Should I be worried about that?” she asked, but to that, Lys gave a hard head shake.

“No.”

“But you haven’t reconciled with them?” Aelin didn’t know why she was asking these questions, but at the same time, the answers seemed all too important.

“It’s hard to reconcile with someone who doesn’t care,” Lysandra finally said. “But, I will say that I’ve let it go.” She cleared her throat. “The needing them to care.” She smiled then, a small curve but Aelin saw it regardless. “I wanted them to care for so long,” she admitted. “For too long, probably. So I acted out. A lot. Willing them to pay attention, at the very least. But you can’t will someone to care, even your parents,” she laughed softly. “And I’ve been through enough therapy now that I’m starting to realize that as much as that hurts, it’s okay.” She paused. “I don’t need them to care. Because I care enough for all of us. And I realized there are a lot of people out there who care, too.” She paused, looking at Aelin, as if trying to cut through the bullshit and tell Aelin exactly what she wanted to hear, and in that moment… she did. “Does that make sense?”

Aelin nodded. “It does.”

Lysandra tapped the paper in her hands. “Immediately after graduation, and we’ll go all night. Bring your bathing suit,” she said.

“Will do,” Aelin laughed, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Lysandra’s words. Her friend had laid it out plainly for her. What she’d been afraid to admit all along. That she maybe really seriously actually needed to go to therapy. The wounds her mom had imparted on her psyche ran deeper than she knew how to deal with. If her dream was any indication, her mom still controlled some part of her identity, and she needed to release that. Because that had nothing to do with who she was as a human. Not at all.

After the dream, she had thought that maybe she needed to call her mom and let her hear her thoughts, but Lys was right in her assessment: it was impossible to control someone else’s feelings. Even your mom’s. Yes, she wanted her mom to love her and want the best for her, but truly, her mom barely knew her. All Evalin knew was propriety and etiquette and history. She didn’t know that her favorite color was green, like Rowan’s eyes. She didn’t know that her favorite food was Maeve’s chocolate cake. She didn’t know that she was thinking about a career in medicine and how much she loved helping people. And she certainly didn’t know that Aelin wanted at least five kids and to make sure that every single one of them felt loved and adored by both their parents. No. She couldn’t make Evalin care, or pay attention long enough to even try to care. And she had to let that go. It would take a lot of work, but she had to.

With that in mind, she called out Rowan’s name, followed by a whoop and a loud expletive. His answering blush and crooked finger, beckoning her to wrap herself in his half-naked embrace was all she needed to know that she’d been forgiven. But she knew she had to explain anyway. He let his teammates know that he would be back in a minute and let Aelin pull him away from the long line of cars still waiting to be washed.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, tilting her head upwards where he loomed over her. He softly kissed the top of her head, warming her even more than the mid-afternoon sun. “I could say I don’t what came over me yesterday, but… that’d be a lie,” Aelin continued.

He squeezed her side in response, not interrupting her but acknowledging that he was listening and waiting.

“Did you know that the morning of my sixteenth birthday I woke up and resolved that I would kiss you that year?” she asked, and he barked out a confused laugh.

“Um, what?”

“I was so determined to do it, too. And do you know why?” she asked as she let her hands trace small circles into the soft skin of his back.

“Because you knew you wanted to be with me forever and ever and that we’re perfect together and meant to be and we’re each other’s soul mates and other halves and one of us just needed to make a move?”

Aelin snorted loudly. “No,” she laughed, screwing up her face. “Not at all.”

Rowan’s forehead wrinkled as his brow transformed into a deep furrow. Clearly her words weren’t at all what he expected to hear. But, she knew she needed to get this out.

“When I thought about why I wanted to kiss you so badly, I realized that it was a test. If I kissed you and blew up our entire friendship, then I’d be right about everything I thought about myself. That you could never love me as much as I loved you. And so obviously you’d leave. Because everyone leaves.”

Rowan’s grasp tightened around her waist, locking her against his chest. “But I’m still here.”

“You are.” She paused, finally letting the words come to the surface. “I think…” She shook her head. That wasn’t the right start at all. “I know… that my mom deeply screwed me up.” She took another deep breath. “And watching you get recruited and this whole college limbo thing has made it so much worse. Because every day it feels like I’m just waiting for you to get up and realize that you’ve outgrown me. But you haven’t done anything to make me feel like that at all. And so, I’m really sorry. My issues are my own, and I’m going to work on them.”

“Thank you,” he said. “For the apology, and for letting me know what’s going on in there.” His fingers tucked under the hem of her shirt and matched the circles she was placing on his back. “I’ll try and remember all of that when you inevitably freak out again, but I look forward to proving you wrong every day for the rest of our lives. Because I’ve said it a few hundred times before, but I’ll keep saying it until you believe it: you’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“Forever,” she echoed back.

“Whitethorn,” a rough voice called out. “We need you back!”

In his absence, the line of cars had somehow grown impossibly longer. “Looks like you’ve got work to do,” she said, raising her brow.

“Will I see you later?” he asked, and Aelin couldn’t help but scoff.

“Oh, you thought I was leaving?” she laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to snag a prime spot for ogling and then maybe we can hop into the jeep when you’re finished.”

“Really?” he laughed. “Even smelling like sweat and sunscreen?”

“Ohhhhh yes,” she said, practically drooling as he let her hands climb up the ridges of his defined abs. “That’s even better.”

He responded with a deep kiss that set her body ablaze, tingling from head to toe, that was interrupted by more panicked calls from his teammates. After prying himself away, Aelin found a spot on a nearby bench, giving her the perfect view to fawn over half-naked and half-wet Rowan for the next few hours.

. . .

The next morning, Aelin was awoken much too early. She was pulled from her easy slumber with a dance remix of Pomp & Circumstance coming from her phone alarm. What the hell? As she slapped at the table next to her, attempting to turn off the too-loud music in vain, she felt her dad’s hand cover hers and lead it to the offending object.

“Congrats, graduate,” Rhoe’s warm voice lilted as he gently rubbed at her shoulder.

“Dadddd,” she groaned as she attempted to put her pillow over her head. Now that that music was off she could go back to sleep. Or so she thought. She should have known better than to play tug of war with a man who could bench press and carry three times her weight. Rhoe’s soft laughter was a stark contrast to the forceful way he wrenched the pillow away. She managed to keep it within her grasp, but Rhoe’s strength kept it locked at a significant distance from her face. She tried to pull it closer, but Rhoe wasn’t letting that happen. She guessed it was time to wake up, per Rhoe’s request.

Defeated, Aelin let her fingers drop from the pillow, and finally cracked an eye open. Behind her dad’s head was a swath of green and gold, and she focused she could see that nearly ever inch of the room had been filled with balloons.

“Happy last day of high school,” her dad said with a too-wide smile given the early hour. When she opened her other eye, his smile widened even further, showing off two deep dimples that she recognized from her own reflection.

“It’d be happier if I could sleep more,” Aelin grumbled, but it wasn’t with any real mirth. Hung on the outside of her closet door, Rhoe had steamed her deep emerald graduation robe.

“I have one more day left with my high school student, and I plan on making every second count,” Rhoe said, causing Aelin to smile in reply.

“Tyrant,” she laughed. But she was grateful.

After allowing her to get ready, the pair made their way to Maeve’s, where she’d saved a two top for them by the window. Within seconds of sitting, a large hazelnut coffee and platter of stuffed French toast and bacon appeared in front of her. Yes, being in a small town was sometimes annoying – but no matter where she and Rowan went in the world, she knew a plate of Maeve’s home cooking would be waiting for her when she came back.

She and Rhoe enjoyed a lazy brunch, ordering second and third cups of coffee.

“Fourth?” Rowan asked, coming around with the coffee pot.

“If I have any more coffee I’ll be peeing every twenty minutes for the rest of the day,” she laughed, shoving him away. Though he hadn’t been able to join them for their breakfast because he was helping train a new staff member for Maeve, he’d dropped a soft kiss on her cheek every time he’d passed by their table. Which. Was a perfect way to enjoy her day. They’d planned to have a celebratory brunch the four of them, since they’d all be going to Lysandra’s (family inclusive!) graduation party following their graduation ceremony, but having it just be Rhoe and Aelin felt right, too.  

“As if you don’t do that already,” Rhoe scoffed. “I’m half expecting you to hop off the graduation stage as soon as they hand you your degree to take a pee break.”

“Dad!” she said, cheeks blooming with redness. Yes, she had brought up peeing first, but she couldn’t believe her dad would talk about her like that in front of Rowan.

“Please,” Rowan laughed. “As if I don’t know about your tiny bladder.”

“You’re both the worst,” she grumbled. “Can we talk about something else besides my pee schedule?”

“Yes, I wanted to ask what you’re wearing under your gown today,” he said before his brain caught up to what he said. “Not in a sexy way!” he said, blush raging as Rhoe raised a pointed brow in his direction. It’d been a while since she saw Rowan look so flustered under Rhoe’s gaze, and she forgot how amusing it was. “So we can coordinate,” he finally said. “For photos.”

“Not in a sexy way,” Rhoe muttered to himself. Something akin to a wheeze came out of Rowan’s mouth as he tried to correct himself again, but Aelin thought it was time to put him out of his misery.

“You can wear whatever you want,” she said. “Because I’ll be wearing a white dress.”

Rowan’s widened eyes darted to Rhoe and then back to her, and she didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed with a nervous gulp.

“A white dress?” he croaked.

“Mhm,” she said. “So anything you wear will go with it.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Speaking of,” Rhoe said, clapping his hands loudly and breaking them from their joint reverie. “We should head out so you can start getting ready.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, knowing that her dad was teasing her about how long it took her to get ready, but as she glanced at the time she realized he wasn’t entirely wrong. They had been so caught up in their lengthy breakfast that it was now well after noon.

With a small kiss, she told Rowan she’d see him out on the lacrosse field in a few hours. Unfortunately, Galathynius and Whitethorn were annoyingly far apart in their grade lineup, so she wouldn’t see him for real until after the ceremony. But all he did was send her away with a smile and a kiss.

“Can’t wait,” he said.

. . .

Of course they were graduating on the hottest day of the year. Though the weather forecast had predicted partly sunny skies and balmy breezes, instead they received a cloudless sky, still and relentlessly hot beneath the beatific sun. The thick polyester robe in dark emerald green created a tent of heat around her, and she could feel every inch of her skin beading with sweat beneath it. She hoped when she took off the gown she still looked somewhat presentable, otherwise her hours of preparation would be for naught.

True to her dad’s prediction, Aelin had taken a while to get ready, shaving her legs thoroughly and straightening each strand of her long blonde locks. Of course, beneath her cap and combined with the thick humidity, her hair was beginning to show its natural wavy texture again. And she had a feeling that as soon as her cap was off, she’d be pulling her tresses into a giant pile on top of her head, pictures be damned. Luckily, she’d sprayed her face with a few layers of setting spray so no matter how much she sweat, her winged eyeliner and flawless complexion weren’t budging.

Beside her, Dorian swiped a bead of sweat that had fallen down his temple. Not even his mop of thick curls was enough to prevent the amounts of sweat from cascading down his cheeks and neck.

“If this speaker doesn’t hurry up, we’re going to boil alive,” he whispered as their graduation speaker drolled on. The man was supposed to be inspiring — he was an author turned executive, but his slow talking pace seemed to be getting slower with each word. Not only that, but each word seemed to be the same tone with no inflection, and Aelin was worried all of them were going to fall asleep before their names were called. Maybe she’d be more inclined to listen to his words of wisdom if the hundreds of them weren’t swimming in pools of their own sweat.

Somewhere in her musings, she heard a round of applause, signaling the end of the speech. Thank god.

The next speaker was their class valedictorian, slash Prom Queen. None other than Elide.

“On behalf of the Seniors, I’d like to take a moment to thank everyone who has been a part of our success,” she began. “The last four years have been filled with bumps in the road, and it hasn’t been easy. But our success is a direct result of everything you’ve given us. Your care and belief in us and faith when we doubted ourselves have been integral in our quest for knowledge. That includes our teachers, who taught us not only school lessons but lessons in life. Our parents and families, who have been there since the beginning. And the families we’ve created along the way.” She paused, searching for a face in the audience, smiling widely when she found her teal-haired girlfriend smiling back at her. “The bond that links us isn’t one of blood. It’s forged in joy and tears and friendship and respect,” Elide’s eyes found Aelin’s at that moment, and she couldn’t help but smile at her friend. “And no matter where this crazy life takes us beyond today, we will always take this place with us. Because home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling, it’s a light in the darkness. It’s hope. And so, to the Orynth High senior class, I say, as we forge new paths for ourselves, may we never forget home.” She cleared her throat and smiled widely. “Let’s hold onto the memories and camaraderie and picture-perfect moments, for they made us who we are. Congratulations… we did it!”

The whole class whooped and hollered and clapped wildly, none more so than Manon, who beamed up at her girlfriend from the front row.

And just like that, it was time.

Aelin held her breath as Principal Havillard took the podium and started calling out their names. Her heart raced as her row stood, waiting to take the stage. Her nerves were momentarily squashed as Manon made a lewd gesture with her tongue between her fingers after accepting her diploma. She watched as Lysandra proudly plucked the degree and held it over her head. She knew her friend hadn’t been sure she’d be able to graduate, and it was a relief to hear her name.

Before she could process anything else, she was walking up the stairs and hearing her name being called out. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”

She nearly tripped over her own feet at the chorus of shouting that came from the back of the chairs. She looked over at where Rhoe and Lorcan were shouting wildly and realized that they were accompanied by the entire fire squad. Aelin’s breath caught in her throat at the display of raucous hooting and hollering. These people who had known her since she was a child had come to cheer for her and see her graduate. She had not anticipated that at all. And she found herself completely overwhelmed.

Beside the squad, Maeve cheered, and on the other side of the chairs, down by the W’s, Chaol and Rowan stood and shouted with hands on either side of their mouths. A thrill of love and support rushed through her. She couldn’t believe how many people were here for her.

She grabbed the diploma from Principal Havillard’s hands and raised it into the air, causing the cheering to explode again. She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes, making a silly face in the direction of her family.

Elide’s words rang in her ears. Her family. The squad, her dad, Lorcan, Maeve, her friends, and of course, Rowan. That vast group was more support than most people got in their lifetime. She’d never forget that.

She made her way back to her seat, laughing as Dorian flipped off his father and then booked it away from him, cackling wildly. Always a troublemaker, that one. And finally, after what seemed like forever, it was Rowan’s turn.

“Rowan Eugene Whitethorn.”

Aelin shot up from her chair, screaming as loud as she could, and despite being many rows back, she could feel Rowan’s eyes lock with hers. His lopsided grin was just for her, and she felt a thrill of joy run up her spine at the look.

“I love you,” she mouthed to him, causing his grin to widen.

“And with that,” Principal Havillard concluded. “I give you the senior class. Congratulations, graduates!”

Aelin stood and joined in the cheering again, her voice starting to go hoarse with the efforts of her support. They did it.

. . .

“Congratulations, Fireheart,” Rhoe said, throwing his arms around Aelin. Despite the heat, she welcomed his embrace.

When he pulled back, she noticed a large bouquet of her favorite flowers in his hand. He held them out to her, the red and orange flowers flickering like a live fire beneath the late afternoon sun.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, suddenly feeling emotional.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, and she could tell that despite his dry cheeks, he’d been crying. “And I love you so much.”

She hugged him again, pulling him tight and not letting go for a long while. After they parted, Aelin was passed around for hugs to the entire squad, each one of them telling her a story of something she did when she was a small girl hanging out at the station, imbuing her with joyful memories.

Then it was Maeve’s turn, who didn’t hold back her tears at all. Fat blobs rolled down her face, and she didn’t both to move them away, seeing as they were coming in a steady stream.

“Oh, hon, I’m so proud of you,” she said as she practically squeezed the life out of Aelin. She was grateful she’d unzipped her graduation robe, otherwise she was sure she would have passed out from heat stroke by now.

“And what about me?” Rowan low voice interjected. Maeve burst into a fresh round of sobs as she pulled him close.

She blubbered into his shoulder about how proud she was of him, of both of them, of all their achievements and how grown up they were, and Aelin could feel her heart expanding. It felt like she was going to burst wide open.

By the time everyone had said their piece, the field had mostly emptied out. Aelin heard a soft ripple of groans as a few of the firefighters took out their pagers.

“Fire?” Aelin asked as she peeled the sweaty gown from her shoulders.

Rhoe shook his head. “Worse. Graduation pranks abound, apparently.”

Aelin laughed, understanding that her dad was probably in for a long night of nonsense work.

“So I shouldn’t expect you at Lysandra’s?”

Rhoe shook his head. “You don’t want your old man crashing anyway.” He narrowed his eyes at her, as if he was blinking back more tears and sniffed loudly. “Have fun. You deserve it.”

“I will,” Aelin said, hugging her dad one more time. As he left her with a wave, she looked around for Rowan, who was standing just a few feet away, talking with Maeve. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

“Hey, you” he said, offering his arm out to her with a wide smile. She leaned into his side and took a deep breath, letting her happiness flow through her.

A flash went off in their face, and Aelin knew that whatever moment Maeve had just captured that she’d be framing it.

“You ready?” she asked, and his smile widened.

“You headed to Lysandra’s?” Maeve asked, completely unaware of the real conversation happening between the two of them.

Rowan nodded. “Do you want to meet us there?” he asked Maeve, but she shook her head and waved them off. Apparently she had a big night of dinner service ahead of her, but she sent them off with a joint hug and another tearful smile.

And just like that, it was time.

. . .

 In the days, months, and years that followed, whenever Aelin was asked about her wedding, she would say that it went by so quickly that she couldn’t remember it, and that was mostly true.

From the time the pair entered city hall to when they exited, a total of maybe ten minutes had passed. There was no aisle to walk down, no verbose exchanging of vows, no romantic readings or passages, but it was perfect nonetheless.

Aelin clasped her bouquet of kingsflames in one hand and Rowan’s hand in another, letting her skirt swish as she swayed back and forth. She had no idea what words the city official said. All she remembered was the brightness in Rowan’s eyes as they stared down at her and the way he kissed her when they’d been pronounced husband and wife.

As they made their way back to his car, Aelin was giddy. They rolled the windows down, letting the cooler air whip through the jeep, a wild giggle bubbling up in her throat and fizzing like champagne with each second that passed. Delicious and lightheaded inducing.

They had done it. They’d actually gotten married.

She looked over at Rowan, who was already staring back at her, a soft dreamy smile on his face. She couldn’t help but grin wider at him, laughing again as his smile pressed against hers. She loved when they kissed like this – a smashing of two smiles that wasn’t quite a kiss at all.

The stress that they’d felt over the last however many weeks, months, years, wasn’t present at all in his posture. She glanced down at his hands poised on the steering wheel, his fingers curling around the black leather in a loose grasp and tapping along to some silent tune in his head. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window casting him in a glow that made him look like a bronzed god, and Aelin sighed happily. This man was all hers. Forever.

FOREVER.

She’d always known their lives would be intertwined, but to actually make it official was something else. The light turned green and the car lurched forward as he pressed on the gas and began driving again. But the adrenaline surging through her was too much. She couldn’t just sit in this passenger seat, she needed to do something.

“Pull over,” she said, eyes flashing at their surroundings.

“Huh?” Rowan’s head whipped toward hers, confused.

“Pull over!” she said again, louder this time. Verging on panic.  

Rowan’s relaxed posture immediately reversed, the thick corded muscles of his shoulders and neck tensing as he looked for a spot to pull over.

“There!” she said, her pulse racing wildly.

Up ahead was the empty parking lot of the library. Though it was usually sparse there, there was not a car in sight, and Rowan wasted no time swerving into the lot and putting his hands on Aelin’s shoulders, examining her up and down.

“Are you okay?” he asked, green eyes taking in every detail of her body as if searching for a gaping wound or sudden injury.

“I’m perfect,” she replied. And she was. She was elated. Running on adrenaline and joy.

To calm her suddenly worried boyfriend — no, husband — down, she placed her hands on both his cheeks and kissed his mouth in a soft, sweet kiss.

“Keep the car running,” she said, picking up Rowan’s phone where it was plugged into the car and adding a song to his Spotify queue.

“What are you doing, Ace?” Rowan sighed, exasperated with her antics. Panic was nowhere to be seen anymore in his posture, only annoyance. Which only made her smile wider. As the first notes of the song came onto the stereo, she cranked up the volume and hopped out of the car. She smiled up at the sky, swaying to the beat, basking in the first signs of sunset and pink tinged clouds overhead.

To his credit, Rowan didn’t ask any more questions. He simply followed her lead and exited the jeep.

“Husband,” Aelin said, offering out her hand. “May I have this dance?”

Rowan’s returning smile was so large she thought it might crack his whole face. Gods, he was gorgeous.

He pulled her close, swaying with her as their song played. “I can’t believe our first dance is to Dancing In The Moonlight,” he chuckled.

“We wouldn’t be us if it weren’t,” she said, leaning into his chest as his arms circled her waist and pulled her close.

And though the song was upbeat, they stayed embraced and tangled up in each other, slowly swaying, chest to chest, hearts beating in rapid tandem with the beat of the song. They were so wrapped up in each other that Aelin barely noticed the sun disappearing behind an ominously dark cloud until a large raindrop plopped onto her nose.

And another.

And another.

She thought they would run back into the car and seek shelter, but neither of them made a move. In fact, the rain just seemed to invigorate them. Rowan stared up at the sky and laughed, Aelin following right after him. He lifted his hand and spun her in a circle, both of them laughing with reckless abandon as Aelin’s skirt flared out around them. He spun her again and this time ended his flourish with a dip, kissing her deeply.

Time seemed to cease to exist as they danced. Under the raining sky they became a mess of water-drenched spinning, laughing, kissing, and singing.

The skies continued to pour, until they were both soaked through. But as the last notes of the song played, their little magic bubble disappeared.

Aelin looked at Rowan and then back at her white dress, which was now dripping.

“Omg I look like a drowned rat!” she shouted through the rain.

Rowan laughed, pulling her back into the jeep and grabbing a towel from his back seat to dry his own hair off before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“But a very cute rat,” he said, causing them both to burst into laughter once again as they took off toward their graduation party.

By the time they arrived at Lysandra’s, they were still water-logged, giggling messes. Lys gasped at their disheveled appearance, eyeing them up and down with a wary eye.

“Ummm, no,” she said.

“No?” Aelin laughed, feeling drunk on endorphins.

Lysandra’s wary eye morphed into a blinding smile at the pair of them. “Get out of here and go celebrate on your own,” she laughed. “And congratulations,” she whispered.

“For graduating…?” Aelin asked, and Lysandra couldn’t help but snort loudly.

“Babe, you’re wearing a white dress and a shit-eating grin.” She paused. “I’m happy for you.”

She embraced the pair of them. “Now get out of here before anyone sees you.”

Aelin and Rowan didn’t need any more prompting. Apparently they were not subtle enough to pull off seeing other people right now.

“Where to?” Aelin asked Rowan as they slid back into the car.

Rowan smiled back at her. “Anywhere we want.”

“Let’s go,” she said.

And with that, they hit the road. Overwhelmed from the day, Aelin promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat, letting the feel of the car lull her into a dreamless sleep.

. . .

“Aceeee,” Rowan whispered, pulling her from her slumber. It was completely dark outside and the pair were stopped at a gas station slash motel. “You gotta get out of the car and then you can go right back to sleep,” he said softly.

“I’m awake,” she mumbled through a wide yawn. “Where are we?”

Rowan chuckled as she practically poured out of the car into his arms. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she truly was until after they’d checked into the motel, which was surprisingly not seedy, and she was sitting back on the bed. Her dress wasn’t wet anymore, but it certainly wasn’t going to be comfortable to sleep in. She wished they’d thought to prepare better for this sudden excursion. Of course, Rowan had.

“I picked up some essentials at a rest stop,” Rowan said, as if reading her mind. He pulled out an oversized tee that read “Geck Yo Act Together,” with a large picture of a gecko on it and tossed it to her, along with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a little thing of mouthwash. He also pulled out giant sandwiches and chips and bottles of water and a Terrasen mountains tee for himself.

“Smart,” Aelin laughed, realizing the last time she ate was her (albeit giant) brunch, hours ago. “Is that where we are?” she asked, realizing she had no idea where they were.

“No,” he said, grinning softly. “I thought maybe we’d drive south. Explore for a while.”

“Is this our honeymoon?” Aelin laughed, looking around the small, dingy motel room. It wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined, but she also had never imagined getting married at eighteen.

“You told me you wanted to find the continent’s best chocolate piece of cake,” he said, and she couldn’t help but bark out a loud laugh.

“That could take weeks!”

“You got somewhere to be?” he asked, brow raised. And she loved the way his smile promised devious, devious things. And suddenly, she wasn’t so tired anymore.  

“I also got one more thing,” he said. She watched as he pulled a thick gold band out of his pocket, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. He sat on the bed beside her and slid it onto her finger and her heart nearly stopped as he pulled another to slide onto his own. They were practically matching, except while a red stone sat in the middle of her ring, a dark green one that matched the shade of his eyes sat on his.

“Oh,” she said, her throat feeling remarkably dry. She tried to swallow, but it was too rough. A lump in her throat that wouldn’t abate. She tried again as she stared at the ring on her finger, her heart pounding as the red stone flickered in the dim motel room lighting. Why couldn’t she swallow?

“It’s just temporary,” Rowan rushed out, mistaking her silence as dislike. “The rest stop had a pawn shop, and I just knew we needed them, but they’re just for now…”

She cut him off with a swift and forceful kiss. “They’re perfect.”

“Hey, where’s my phone?” she asked. “I need to take a picture of this immediately.”

“I plugged it in,” he said, pointing to where he’d already set up a little charging station.

She picked it up, intending to take a picture of her ring, but an alert from literal hours ago disrupted that. She couldn’t believe it. An email in her inbox that read: Wendlyn University Admissions Update. Oh gods.

Without another word, she clicked into the email, heart pounding. Her eyes skimmed quickly, hoping to get the band-aid ripped off quickly, but she paused on the word CONGRATULATIONS.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD!” she screamed, throwing the phone at Rowan. He picked up the phone and smiled widely, whooping and wrapping her into a bear hug so tight she couldn’t breathe.

“You did it,” he mumbled through kisses. “I knew you were going to do it.”

Unable to control themselves, their kisses increased, heating up wildly until his kisses seared through her, worshipping each inch of her skin. She was breathing hard as he peeled her out of her dress and pushed her onto the bed and continued to whisper adorations and plans of their future. How proud of her he was, and how he was never going to let her forget it. She shivered as he let his mouth skimmed against her, and she promised in that moment to never take him or his love for granted. This is why she didn’t need handwritten wedding vows — because they vowed to each other all the time with a simple kiss. And more than kisses. They brought each other to orgasm again and again, until they were both sweaty and spent and shaking with pleasure. They both poured every ounce of joy and relief into their intertwining bodies, finding their own perfect rhythm, until long after they should have gone to sleep. But neither wanted this magical day to end.

He was twirling the ring around her finger when Aelin remembered that she hadn’t taken a picture of it yet. She reached for her phone and started at a text from her dad, which just said: Checking in.

“Oh my god,” Aelin said again, bolting upright.

But Rowan just chuckled sleepily, reaching out with one of his hands to squeeze her bare backside. “Yeah, baby. Oh my god. You’re incredible.”

“NO, ROWAN,” she said smacking his shoulder. “What were we thinking? We got married! And then left home without telling anyone?” She actually couldn’t believe she had done that. What was she supposed to write back to her dad? “Rhoe is going to KILL ME,” she said, finally realizing what had occurred over the last twelve hours. “No, wait. He’s going to kill YOU! He’s going to arrest you for kidnapping his only daughter!”

At that Rowan really did laugh and pulled her back down into his embrace. “Ace, are you serious?” his laughter poured over her, silky smooth. “You think I would marry you and take you out of state without explicitly asking your father for permission and telling him our plans?”

Aelin’s eyes widened as she looked at Rowan with serious eyes. “He knew?”

Rowan kissed her shoulder and mumbled a soft, “Go to sleep. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”

She paused. “You made a plan, but didn’t think to pack a bag for me?”

He chuckled again, pulling her tighter against his side. “I did pack a bag for you,” he said. ”I just forgot toothpaste and a nightshirt,” he said, his lips loosening as sleep threatened to take him over. “You didn’t need it, though.” And with that, he was asleep.

“I love you, too,” she replied, pushing his hair from his eyes and loving the way he smiled at her touch, even asleep. Unable to help herself, she laced her fingers through his and snapped a quick pic of their intertwined hands before sending it off to her dad. As she rested the phone down and closed her eyes, she felt ready for the next chapter. Except, it wasn’t really a chapter, she guessed. It was the rest of her life. A new book she was writing. She didn’t know what it would entail, but she knew that she couldn’t wait.

THE END

[onlyjaeyun]

i’ve been following ur writing for some time now and i do have to agree with that anon who said you did CH dirty. you are a very talented writer so it’s just hard to watch.

you started off CH so strong with the lore and little chapters here and there but as it progressed you kind of just got lazy and it shows. when important events happened in the story, they weren’t conveyed through writing but through the texts (ie the riki and yn fight, that was definitely worth a written chapter) and it was honestly disappointing.

the ending isn’t much to say about either. yn and hoon barely go through development after the letter incident and all of a sudden they’re dating and married with a kid like two chapters later?

idk, if it was a mental health issue then i get that but even then you should’ve just gave it a break and thought everything out more. you could do so much better.

thank you for the feedback!

i wanna put you through the progess of a piece of writing from the POV of a writer okay? now keep in mind: i work two jobs, am a fulltime uni student and the daughter of an immigrant household with two parents who still work most of the day just so you know what else i have to deal with, besides my mental health okay?

now, i started off CH strong right? yes. i uploaded on the daily, fine i chose that. a chapter usually takes me around one hour if i actually sit down and focus on nothing but the chapter itself, which includes IG stories, editing, formatting etc. alright

on top of the daily chapters, i constantly replied to 40+ asks a day, a blessing in disguise because no matter how much i enjoy talking to you guys, the pressure does get worse the bigger that number of my inbox becomes, i hope this makes sense

now, i started CH back in october, right when my semester started, thats why i started off strong but as time went on, my assignments and private life got too busy and i guess i felt entitled enough as a writer to skip a few certain chaps and make life a little easier for me by making them regular chapters instead of written ones.

and this is gonna be my main point: i'm not a machine. i wrote a minimum of 5 THOUSAND words per written chapter, MINIMUM. we're talking about a 5-9 THOUSANDED worded chapter EACH WEEK. which usually took me about 6-7 hours, even allnighters.

yes, i chose to do that and maybe my time management wasn't the best but i had to create a compromise where i wouldnt have let you guys wait for over two months which would have resulted in me losing my motivation completely, and yet still focusing on EXAMS. because you know, i'm a fulltime uni student with TWO jobs 😮‍💨

if YOU think i did CH dirty go write an alternative ending yourself but it should be a minimum of 15 chapters including 5 written ones, with at LEAST 9k words each yeah? i wanna see you manage it all, pls prove me wrong snd show me you're better than me i'm genuinely begging bc it might inspire me to do "better" next time.

as a writer/artist/creator, and i can tell you probably arent one yourself or havent been one for long, the longer smth takes to come to an end the worse the pressure becomes which results in a blockage i dont wish upon my worst enemy i'm being deadass. i dealt with some of the worst writer's block ive had since i started writing literally 12 years ago and you're telling me i should have just "taken a break" and do "better"

i never, ever expected anything from anyone but some of you are so entitled to a writer's time and skill it's giving me a headache. maybe you didn't like the timing and writing of the last few chapters of CH and i guess that's unfortunate but this was so unnecessary because you completely dismissed everything else that could have been going on in my life and even belittled my mental health issues like im some fucking AI writing machine

do better, be nicer, write it yourself if you don't like it i'm so fucking over this

if i had gotten out of my own comfort and wellbeing and have actually written another set of written chapters i would have burned myself completely out. ive been in this fandom for not even a year and have already finished FOUR smaus with 50 chapters each, you do NOT get to tell me what i should or could have done better because you dont even give a fuck about me as a person this is just about receiving what YOU think YOURE entitled to but this is MY art and I will do what I see fit even if it's not what was expected of it because i'm a fucking human being with a life before i'm a writer on tumblr

oh, also: i do this for free ㅤ:) just a reminder :) this is my HOBBY :)

and don't you EVER call me lazy again when it comes to writing because i'm not gonna pour my heart and soul into a fic just for you to call me lazy when i literally wrote 50 THOUSAND words for this fucking fic just for the written chapters

goodbye

[stomach-bugg09]

hi this is my first time requesting🫶🏼🫶🏼

how about reader getting taken by the sky people and just angst and fluff with neteyam trying to get her back from them

summary: [y/n] is with lo’ak, kiri, spider, and tuk when the avatars first attack. after saving the life of tuk, [y/n] is taken by quaritch along with the human boy, allowing an adventure that she never could have imagined. what happens when she is finally reunited with her love?

a/n: oh my goodness , this has been sitting in my inbox for what seems like a billion years—i am so so sorry for taking this long to get to it. i hope you enjoy !! it’s a little bit of angst in the beginning , but the original atwow plot has been changed because i cannot afford anymore tears over neteyam’s death. also , i literally do not remember how this scene goes , so if it’s inaccurate , whoopsies !! feedback + reblogs are always apprecaited !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass @hjkshshjkhklhkl

warnings: fighting , blood , guns , spider being a good person , being friends with spider , mentions of death

words: 2.4k

he is my home

[y/n] often wonders to herself, how long has it been? she’s seen the vast world of pandora, more of it than she could ever have imagined, and yet she cannot find any happiness within herself for the journey. the only thing she can focus on is whether or not the sully family is okay, specifically recalling the longing face of her love before she was grabbed by one of the avatars.

it’d been so long, she questioned whether or not the face that she remembered, the face that she dreamed about, was truly him. what details was she missing? was that truly his smile?

at first, she had hope. maybe she would be able to fact check sooner rather than later. but, she eventually got to a point where all faith dissipated. all she had was the desire of just being released from the hold of the avatars.

[y/n] could still feel the way her body trembled when she was first brought to the base. where was she? where was neteyam?

[y/n] could still feel the way her head spun and her stomach twisted as they tortured her for information. “ke omum oel teyngta,” she screamed. over and over again.

she owed her life to spider, as much as it pained her to say. just months ago, she would’ve hated the way she now adored the human boy. she used to hate him—the way that he acted like he was one of them. and now, he became the reason that she still breathed.

[y/n] was not an idiot. she knew that quaritch wanted to kill her once she was determined useless. but, spider socorro had leverage as his son, claiming that he would only help his father if and only if they kept [y/n] alive and allow her to accompany them.

despite their agreement, spider did not make it easy when attempting to help the humans. [y/n] followed along blindly, silent at all times. the only time she showed any sign of emotion was when they returned to the forest for the avatars’ ikrans.

spider often acted as a translator between the parties, [y/n] having not grown up knowing the sky-people language. when they demanded directions, spider was the one to relay that [y/n] had no idea, although they got to a point that each avatar was very familiar with the na’vi words, “ke omum oel teyngta” because of how often she said it.

now, [y/n] could not believe where she stood.

the ship beneath her feet rocked back and forth, the motion making her stomach sick. she clutched the rail desperately, stomach lurching as she held her head over the edge just in case.

spider grimaced. “are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“never been better.” [y/n]’s tone was dark, dry.

it only caused him to swallow in defeat, her new changed personality directly opposing the type of person that she used to be. he recalled the way her eyes lit up at the nature of eywa, the way her laugh echoed across a room, the way she smiled when she was with neteyam. the memories were harsh, and they stung more than anything. but, they also kept spider motivated to save [y/n], to get her back to neteyam wherever he may be.

[y/n] felt particularly wounded thanks to the events of the past week. the gruesome choices that the rda kept making… it was sickening. her stomach churned even more as she recalled the way the sea na’vi screamed as fire lit their homes. the way they looked at her, eyes desperate to help protect their families.

[y/n] cried, the avatars holding both her and spider back. she had never wanted to kill the socorro boy’s father more, but she could not. she no longer had any sense of advantage, especially not in a territory that she was unfamiliar with.

not only did they torture innocent na’vi, but they terrorized the entire sea. tears pricked her eyes once she remembered the image of the dead tulkun and her calf floating in the water, blood swirling with each wave.

and now she stood there, helpless in the middle of the sea. the only thing roaming her head were the questions, are the sullys here? are they alive? are they safe?

“do you think they’re on one of the islands?” she found herself asking spider after a few beats of silence, her voice hushed.

the human boy swallowed, shaking his head. “i guess we technically have no way of knowing, but based on the way that quaritch is so adamant…” he trailed, inhaling slowly. the silence spoke for itself.

“i wish we could warn them.” her voice was rough, clearly not used to speaking based on her depressed silence for the past few months.

spider backed away from the rail, hands going to his face in order to adjust his mask. “if there was a way…” he only shook his head.

“i know.”

it was the yelling of the sky-people that brought the two adolescents back to reality. [y/n]’s eyes wandered the ship, watching as humans run across the deck. their voices carried in the wind, another language ripped from their throats.

“what are they saying?” [y/n] demanded, falling back from the rail. “what is happening?” spider’s heart panged at the concern held in the na’vi’s eyes.

“i—” he stuttered, regaining his balance as the ship lurched—”i don’t know.”

both of them cried out in rage as avatar hands gripped them by the shoulders, immobilizing them from running. “you’re coming with us.”

although [y/n] didn’t understand, she was smart enough to recognize that tone, and that tone meant obey. that was the tone she’d been dealing with for months. obey or die.

[y/n] cried out as the avatar gripped her braid, tears filling her eyes at the sharp pain. her hands immediately attempted to go to his wrist, but another avatar was quick to grab her arms and shackle them behind her back.

“spider!” she yelled, unable to see the boy.

“i am here!” relief flooded her body. “i am right behind you, just—” he grunted—”just keep moving.”

unfortunately, she had to do just that. there was nothing that she could do after months of lacking food, lacking water, and lacking training to fight them off. not when they held guns in their hands.

a grunt left [y/n]’s throat as she was shoved into the room with humans. there was a mass amount of colorful buttons, glass windows allowing her to see out onto the water. she gasped at the impact that shocks her back when she was shoved into some sort of desk.

she immediately crumpled, unable to stay upright any longer. weakly, she lifted her head just in time to watch spider receive the same treatment.

the boy was quick to help her up, allowing her lean against him as she adjusted her body to the new bruise that was forming in the middle of her back. she groaned at the pain, but it was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.

as she looks around at their surroundings, eyes gauging new exits, entrances, weaknesses, and flaws, her visual scan is cut short by the view outside the window. “spider.”

"what?” he panicked at her low tone.

“look.” his eyes followed her hand, only to be greeted with the sight of a fleet of na’vi. they arrived in all different forms, each riding their own creature through the waters except for a familiar female that reigned the skies.

“no way,” he muttered, jaw dropping just the slightest.

he took a step forward, but at the motion, every human went rigid, guns raised. he raised his eyebrows at that, arms going up in mock defense. “just taking a look, folks.” his voice was quiet and sarcastic, going on his toes to take a peek.

“is that..?” [y/n] trailed, now recognizing three familiar figures that are cuffed to the rail that they’d been standing by just minutes before.

“aw, shit.”

it didn’t take long for the scene to escalate. panic rose and fell in [y/n]’s chest as she watched jake sully nearly sacrifice himself, but the beautiful sight of a tulkun leads hope to flood her chest.

it was the attack of the creature that sent everything skyrocketing. while the na’vi of the sea attacked the ship, [y/n] and spider took it as a chance to attack from the inside out.

despite being in bonds, [y/n] could still recall enough training to beat the worst of the soldiers. afterall, they had all the important fighters trying to hold down the fort outside.

it was thanks to spider and his creative use of a fire extinguisher as a weapon that they were free of their captivity inside the room. as the tulkun and na’vi attack from outside, pride panged in [y/n]’s soul that she and spider were successful in attacking from the inside.

once they defeated the last human manning the controls, [y/n] stood there in silence, trying to catch her breath. her arms hung heavy, still tied together. blood leaked from a small wound on her forehead, but she had more of their opponents’ blood that crusted on her fists.

spider and her immediately repositioned themselves defensively at the sound of someone bursting through the door.

it is then that [y/n]’s heart stopped.

“neteyam?”

she could not breath, she could not think. suddenly, she had not a single clue of what was laying outside of their bubble. all she saw was him. for the first time in months, she felt at home again.

she barely recognized as he ran to her, his arms warm as they embraced her figure. the only thing she could remember was the way that she cried into his shoulder. “oh, neteyam.”

neteyam surveyed her body. she was thinner, paler. blood dripped from her forehead, and her wrists were quite rough from rubbing against her shackles. his eyes widened at the sight of the blood that covered her hands.

"it is not mine,” she relayed, voice soft. [y/n] felt his hands holding hers, softly turning them over, but she was not watching that. her eyes would not leave his beautiful face. not after the time it took to see him again.

he laughed. “oh, trust me. i can tell.”

it was lo’ak’s groan that brought them back to reality. “look, i totally understand how this is a really big moment and all, but if we don’t move now, we’ll all die, and you’ll have to finish your reunion in the afterlife.”

“hello to you too, lo’ak.”

they definitely could have made a better plan. you know, a plan that wouldn’t have risked their lives multiple times. but, that was way out of their style! if there was one constant when it came to the sully boys, it was that they were really good at winging it and hoping for the best.

[y/n] felt much better, much freer, now that her hands weren’t contained by a pair of handcuffs. she also felt much better as her fingers did not once leave neteyam’s. they were intertwined for as long as they ran across the deck, not even letting him go when he took the gun from lo’ak. he assured her that he could use his other hand perfectly fine.

she trailed behind him as they sprinted, the exit in sight. [y/n]’s eyes lit up at the image of the water they were about to dive into, longing for freedom from the rda. she could feel spider had the same emotions, especially considering he still had yet to reunite with kiri.

but, of course, despite their very dramatic exit, there would always be flaws. and this one, of course, was life threatening.

the group of kids were on the final sprint, the only goal in mind being to escape. there was nothing to hide behind, nothing to save themselves. oh, no. they were praying to eywa that they would make it out alive.

it was when she saw him, the familiar avatar of wainfleet, and the way he aimed his gun at them, that her heart jumped to her throat. she let every instinct kick in, her feet leaving the ground as she launched herself into neteyam. the couple stumbled behind some sort of metal container.

a gasp left her throat when a bullet pierced the wall right where neteyam would have been if he kept running. the sully boy’s eyes were wide, a prayer to eywa leaving his lips as he watched spider and lo’ak dive into the water where they’d originally been planning.

while neteyam was wrapped up in the problem, [y/n] did not have time to think. instead, she stopped thinking and let her hands work for themselves.

that was the moment she blacked out. neteyam told her that she’d grabbed a stray gun laying on the ground, told her that she’d merely peeked her eyes out before aiming and shooting, told her that she shot him right in the hole of his armor. she was still unsure whether or not she believed him.

[y/n] could only clearly remember the way she stared at the dead avatar, gun warm in her hands. she was wordless, her breathing heavy as she inhaled and exhaled. the loud sound of the gunshot still rung in her ears, neteyam’s words sounding like muffles of noise.

it was only his hand around her wrist that brought her attention back. she swallowed as he pointed to the water, and she only nodded.

the two dove through together, the shocking chill of the salty sea causing her to nearly choke on the water. she sputtered as she resurfaced.

“[y/n]!” neteyam yelled, her ears finally regulating themselves again. “[y/n]!”

she turned, looking at her love. her love. “neteyam!” she swam quickly, finally feeling his embrace once again, although they quickly pulled themselves onto a hard surface at the newfound difficulty of reuniting in water.

before another word could be exchanged, the two kissed. they kissed with more passion than any other kiss before, so much longing and sadness built up. so much worry. tears pricked [y/n]’s eyes.

when they broke apart, she held the back of his head. “neteyam, how i have missed you.”

“i am so happy that you’re alive.” she laughed at his words, leaning her forehead against his chest. “and i am never leaving you again.”

“oh, i wouldn’t dream of it.”

[3d-wifey]

Hi!!! Awhile back I sent something about how star reminded me of “Work song” by Hozier and I was thinking about how Finnick reminds me of “From Eden” (also this is long I’m very sorry)

—

Babe

There's something tragic about you

So I kinda view this as when Finnick first met Star he kinda realized what could happen to her. The Greek concept of tragedy is different from ours, it’s watching something, knowing how it’s going to end and being powerless to stop it. Thats the tragedy, the inevitably of what is going to happen and for Finnick that’s how he sees star when they first meet.

—-

Something so magic about you

Don't you agree?

I also think this applys to when they first meet because, correct me if I’m wrong, Finnick was kinda interested in star the moment they met and the fact that she can draw him in like that is odd, it’s new, it’s something he’s never experience before.

—

Babe

There's something lonesome about you

Something so wholesome about you

Get closer to me

When Finnick first met her she was alone, even when she’s around people she isn’t really like them. All her fellow victors from her district are much older, she isn’t like the people in the Capitol…she is alone a lot. I also think Finnick views her in…not an innocent light but wholesome in how much she cares. And Finnick literally is close to her a LOT.

—

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

I think there’s a big part of Finnick that views himself in star, at least at the start. There’s the same fear, same need to protect their families. For him it’s like looking in a mirror, one he’d rather not look at.

—

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know

Eluding to the games, for Finnick he was apart of a career district he had a certain idea of the games that died as soon as he got there. I think the idea of “innocence died screaming” is referring to how they both had their innocence taken by both the games and the capitol.

—

I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Idk how to say this but Finnick is fucking WIPPED. He just wants a single glance at star, just anything.

—

Babe

There's something wretched about this

Something so precious about this

Where to begin?

You can view this as the start of their relationship, something they have to hide, how they can’t truly belong to each other but there’s this innocent precious love they share.

_

Babe

There's something broken about this

But I might be hoping about this

Oh, what a sin

Again their love is kinda a tragic one but something they have a lot of hope in, despite it being against Capitol rules.

—

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me

A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

I mean…how many times has Finnick probably thought about killing snow for what he does to star?

—

Anyway I’m really sorry this is so long! I’m just obsessed!

You literally broke down my exact thought process when I added this song to the playlist

And don't apologize, I love when you guys rant in my inbox!!!

Here's a Lil sneak peak of chapter 15:

[bleue-flora]

Write the autitic c!dream essay🙏🙏

Why I think c!Dream is Autistic - Part 1

[context]

[Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3]

Welp… I guess while on the topic of neurodivergence now is as good as time as any to do this. So, at long last…

Since every version of this essay ended up way too long I’m going to break it into 3 parts, and I'm going to make more generalized statements for the sake of brevity. So, if there are things about this or autism in general you would like more clarification on or know more about, my asks are always open (though I do ask that you please wait to flood my inbox until after you’ve read all parts). I would also like to add that for the same reason of length, I am not going to go in depth on all of the facets of autism and diagnosing it. I am not a psychologist, and this essay is not about defining autism and going into full depth about what it is, but about the specific aspects of Dream and the dsmp that I think point to autism, based on what I know and more importantly my experiences as an autistic person. Having said that, just so we are on the same page - Autism means that our brains are literally structured differently (also known as neurodivergent), which means we think differently and process the world differently, it does not make us inferior or broken or less than larger society (neurotypicals), it only means we are human beings who are wired differently.

Now, for part 1 I’m going to briefly go into the traits Dream has that I think point to autism, keeping in mind that this is not necessarily all inclusive, these are not necessarily autism exclusive, and some of these can be effected with masking and personal growth. 

Highly obsessive - in general and for specific interest, to the point of not taking care of oneself, like forgetting to sleep, eat, shower, or just not caring enough to do so. 

Strong willed, determined and dedicated - not going to give up easily, willing to stay up training or farming for long hours or put in the work especially for our obsession. Our priorities aren’t always productive, but we are not ones for laziness.

Isolated - outcast, odd ball out, set apart, on the outskirts, loner, alone even if surrounded by people.

Highly intelligent - smart, clever, big brained, skilled, knowledgeable to the point of ground breaking (ex: Einstein, Elon Musk, Michelangelo, Beethoven, Leonardo da Vinci…etc)

Trouble with emotions and feelings - from recognizing them, processing them, letting ourselves experience them, understanding them, leading us to often then lash out, explode, or have a meltdown.

All about the facts and truth - sometimes to an abrasive and candid point where it can become more important than how people feel or the main point.

Logical mindset - making decisions based on logic and strategy rather than on emotions to the point of struggling to understand others when they follow no such logic

“Black and White” thinking - right and wrong, good or bad, yes or no, on or off, love it or hate it, friend or foe. Everything is in extremes.

Rule follower, one to fight for justice and for others - we are stubborn and in our strong conviction we are out against injustice and misinformation, fairness and what is right and true is imperative. 

Unable to forgive and forget - hard to let things go. Often have good memories and are able to remember things with the same detail as if it were happening again and not years ago. It doesn’t really fade with time and that makes us easily hold grudges, and hold things and behavior against people.

Resistant to change -  doesn’t matter how big or small nor whether it’s good or bad, we are enemies of change. We like to understand so uncertainty and new things are often disagreeable.

Able to recognize patterns - able to see the full picture, see history repeating itself and people’s behavioral tendencies, which makes us good at scheming and masterminding. We hate change so we want to predict things to avoid being surprised. 

Trouble articulating our point - stuttering and stumbling over our words, because our brains are moving too fast for our mouth to keep up and it’s hard to explain ourselves because our brain works differently. (we’ll talk about this more in part 2)

Struggle with body language? - I mean it’s hard to say given the Minecraft format, but to me wearing a mask could be to avoid having to make eye contact (which I hate) and appropriate facial expressions and stuff like that, which are pretty important in diagnosis. So while some headcanon that Dream wears a mask because he's too expressive and doesn't like being exposed I actually think it might be the opposite and saves him a lot of effort and brain power to not have to worry about his facial expression. :)

Stimming - (yes an ADHD thing but also an autistic thing and it's very common for someone to be both - like me ;D) vocally and physically often when more stressed, again hard to say for a Minecraft man, but I see him constantly moving like pacing the cell or jumping around and stuff as stimming and he does vocally stim on occasion as well.

Or in other words - Reasons I think c!Dream is autistic:

C!Dream = me, me = autistic -> c!Dream = autistic… boom, shortest essay ever XD lol jk 

But seriously it is a major reason. I read a tumblr c!Dream character analysis (don't remember who's) back before I even joined tumblr and related soo much, which is pretty concerning when you relate to a villain - because like wait does that make me a psychopath? but I have empathy and I care and I'm out to hurt people so why would I relate so much? And that's when I realized I think it is because he’s autistic like me so we think a like... I mean seriously the similarities are scarily uncanny down to things that have happened to me in real life…

Anyways, thank you for reading. I hope I made sense and got the idea across even by not going into super detail on all the points.

[just-french-me-up]

Harmonies

Dream of the Endless / Hob Gadling | Human AU | Writer Dream - Voice Actor Hob | Explicit | 2.2k Porn with some Plot | Masturbation | Literal voice porn | Dream doesn't quite know what to do with himself honestly

@hardly-an-escape recently had this FABULOUS idea of acclaimed writer Morpheus who secretly publishes popular romance novels under a pen name, who shamefully gets off while listening to voice actor Hob Gadling acting out an explicit scene from one of his romance stories. I would say my hand slipped but this was 100% planned and thought through.

Morpheus refreshed his inbox. Early afternoon, Lucienne had told him. He gave a quick glance at the clock. 5:42PM. Early afternoon was fading into late afternoon one second at a time, with nothing to show for it.

Morpheus refreshed his inbox. Again.

This is stupid, he thought, frustration seeping in. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Surely, they had not finished editing or formatting the whole thing yet, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Perhaps they had forgotten. Morpheus didn't usually request to be sent the beta recordings. He was more than happy to let them do their job unencumbered, trusting Lucienne to green light everything once it was done. Truth be told, he was barely involved in the whole audiobook side of things, except for, well, writing the damn thing in the first place and having his pen name slapped on the cover. Lucienne had arched an eyebrow at him when he'd asked for the latest recordings out of the blue, but had not been overly curious. A good thing, really. Morpheus carefully avoided any occasion that required him to lie through his teeth. This, no doubt, would have been one of them.

His phone buzzed, startling him.

[6PM 09/05/2023 – The Kindly Ones – Edit Zoom Meeting]

Morpheus turned off the reminder. Too many fires at once. That was his problem, his sister had told him once. Stretching yourself thin until you're see-through, she had said. She was not wrong, of course, although Morpheus would not admit it to her face. She would be far too smug about it.

He refreshed his inbox.

Inbox (1)

Morpheus froze and stared at the screen. There it was. Finally. His pulse racing, he reached for his headphones, struggling to plug it in in his haste. The file was slow to download, the recordings accounting for more than half of the book. Morpheus' fingers tapped impatiently against his desk as he watched the bar crawl to the finish line.

5:51PM.

Surely he could allow himself a quick browse through the file. The meeting with his editor―his other editor―wouldn't start for five more minutes, if not more, should they run a little late on their side. Morpheus found himself wishing they would. Unprofessional, a little voice admonished him.

He opened the file. It had been divided into sections, each corresponding to a chapter. Skip. Skip. Skip. He knew what he was looking for. The book had come out a year ago or so. He still remembered the outline well enough. For a while, he heard nothing but the initial breath of the voice actor, one for each chapter, before he would skip ahead. When he finally let the recording play, the voice engulfed him in its warmth.

Although Morpheus had been the one initially weaving the words and sentences together, they found another dimension and depth in that voice. He was rediscovering his work on someone else's tongue, and the effect left him... intrigued. A few voice actors had given life to the words on the page over the years but this one... This one breathed a soul into the story like none had ever managed to before.

When Morpheus had learnt Robert Gadling would narrate another one of his books, he could not resist.

The beta recordings were rough, lacking the polish of the final product, leaving intakes of breath in and other little imperfections editors would cut out. Morpheus could hear every huff, every chuckle when Gadling would stumble over a word and correct himself, going back to the beginning of the sentence. He could picture the smile on his lips then, the playfully apologetic look at the tech team. He had looked up pictures of him online, once. His face matched his voice: warm, inviting, with a hint of mischief. Suave, even. Morpheus had then closed the tab, embarrassed at his own thoughts.

The scene he had skipped to was professionally relevant, or, at least, he tried to convince himself it was. He had always understood sex scenes to be a tricky thing, for actors. At least, when it came to traditional acting, it was a shared awkwardness, a simulacrum of pleasure played by multiple people who could find solace in the fact that they were all on the same vulnerable boat, camera crew included. Now, voice actors... Acting choices could either make or break a sex scene. It required a subtle mix of smoothness and confidence few could manage. The last thing he wanted was for his words to sound clumsy and awkward, when the goal was quite the opposite. It was Morpheus' authorial prerogative to check every aspect of the audiobook fit his vision, after all.

As the chapter began and Robert Gadling's voice filled his ears, Morpheus imagined him in his recording booth, alone. Some audiobooks had multiple actors playing different characters, but this one only had him credited. There were slight fluctuations of tones, accents and speech patterns, as he switched characters. Morpheus listened intently.

"Gabriel gave a fleeting look downward. Nathan's shirt was soaked, revealing hints of the skin underneath. He tried not to stare, but only managed to do so through conscious and continuous effort. 'You should change your shirt before you catch something,' he told Nathan, his tone as casual as he could manage. 'You could borrow one of mine.' "

The acting was good. There was tension in the words, in the tone. The characters sounded like different people, even though they were played by the same man. Morpheus continued. In the book, things heated up quickly after a long, tentative courtship. He braced himself for the following scene, replaying the words in his head from memory.

" 'It smells like you.' Gabriel stared at him, stunned, unable to look away as Nathan stood in front of him, his own t-shirt and boxers for only garments. 'What?' he managed, his throat dry. 'It smells like you,' Nathan repeated, lifting the fabric to his nose with a smile. 'I like it.' Gabriel's gaze trailed down Nathan's body, only now noticing the growing outline of his cock aga―"

Morpheus paused. He had written those words. He knew those words, from having read and reread them a few dozen times during the writing and editing process. Yet he had never heard them. Especially not in that voice. Even the narration was sensual, almost cheeky, dripping with lust like honey. Clumsy and awkward it was not. It was.... something else entirely. Shaking off the feeling, Morpheus hit the 'play' button again.

" ―inst the taut fabric of his boxers. 'I like it,' Nathan repeated, slowly reaching for his cock through the thin fabric, his fingertips brushing the shape of it, well aware of Gabriel's undivided attention."

The rest of the scene followed, word for word Morpheus' work, yet somehow completely new to his ears. He sat there, enraptured, his eyes staring into nothingness while the rich, luscious voice surrounded him, filled him until it became his only focus.

A lewd, enthusiastic hum rose from the headphones, making Morpheus jump. Every word he had been anticipating thus far, but artistic license? It fitted with the narrative well. Too well. Not Gadling's first brush with erotica, he immediately guessed. He played it again for good measure. The sound was deeply erotic, with just enough warmth and breath. Real. It sounded real. It was followed by a breathy sigh Morpheus could almost feel at the back of his neck. God.

He played it again. He could feel the sound, the anticipation, the desire, the pleasure. Gadling conveyed it with such ease it felt genuinely intimate. Arousing, even. Morpheus ran his hand against the front of his own trousers, feeling the very real erection pushing against the hard fabric. This was ridiculous. Yet he could not stop. The scene kept playing, Robert Gadling's voice purring in his ears, words like caresses and gentle tugs, and he could not help but cup his cock through his jeans, seeking friction. He imagined him in the recording booth, leaning over the microphone, his features fitting the suggestive sounds, his lips wet from running his tongue over them. If he could just get a little further in the scene―

His Zoom alarm went off. Instantly, Morpheus removed his hand and his headphones, his back stiff as a board, a cold wave of panic rushing through him. Fuck! He gave himself a quick look through the camera of his phone. He was blushing slightly, to his utmost annoyance. Nothing he could not blame on bad webcam settings, he thought. The rest could be concealed easily enough. Especially when he was only visible from the waist up.

It was with a slight flush and a distracting, frustratingly hard erection that Morpheus answered his Zoom call, his mind scattered between book royalties, publishing dates, and Robert Gadling's voice still deeply embedded in his skull.

--

It was hours before Morpheus found a minute of free time. Night had fallen, the evening spent in front of a screen or on the phone, discussing the imminent release of his upcoming novel, one whose cover would feature his actual name, this time. Book releases were always exhausting affairs, between planning podcast appearances, book signings, press tours, and the likes. Morpheus disliked the fanfare of it all, the exposure, but could hardly complain. There were worse flip sides of the coin, out there.

At least writing under a pen name saved him the hassle, with the other half of his published work.

Lying on his bed, fresh out of the shower, Morpheus sighed, staring at the ceiling. He felt both exhausted and wide awake, his coffee-fueled brain refusing to quiet down. There were a few things the editor needed his input on in person, tomorrow, something to do with the cover art. He'd promised himself to write, too. Perhaps clean the flat a little. Too many fires at once, his sister's voice echoed in his mind.

His phone buzzed again. Incoming email from Lucienne.

Listened to it yet? Thoughts?

Plenty. Enough to know it was good. Enough to keep the reader listening. Enough for him to want to go back for more.

Going through his emails, Morpheus found the link to the beta recordings, and downloaded it onto his phone. He reached for old earbuds in his bedside table drawer. Where were we?

" 'Come here.' "

The latent desire in that voice was enough to get Morpheus right back where he had been, a few hours ago. Lying on his bed, he kept listening, swallowing hard at any well-placed sigh, any improvised grunt and whimpering sound. Was it even improvised? Did he plan on adding those? Did Gadling discuss it with the adaptation team beforehand? Marked the exact spots where he would do it in the printed script?

" 'You're so beautiful like this, love. Look at you.' "

God.

" 'I have thought about you like this. Hard under me. For me.' "

Hesitantly, Morpheus reached under the waistband of his pyjamas, finding himself hard already. He blushed at his own embarrassment, alone in his bedroom, his hand wrapped around his cock, his own words spilling in his ears. Vain, perhaps. Awfully self-absorbed. But deep down, he knew it was not that. Not really.

" 'Do you want me, Gabriel?' Can you feel I much I want you?' "

He hated himself for including so much narration in this passage, keeping him from the lascivious heat of Gadling's voice, waiting for the dialogue to return like a starving man begs for food. How could he do that? A wanton moan reverberated in his ears, quickly echoed by one of his own, harmonies of pleasure filling his head and his room.

" 'Fuck, you feel so good!' "

Why did his editor even let him publish that? Morpheus' mind was bridging the gaps between dialogue bits, ignoring the narration in favour of more pleasurable mental stimulation. He pictured Robert Gadling in his recording booth, focused over the microphone, his lips pressed into a sinful hum, his eyes closed. Gadling next to him, his mouth pressed against his ear, spewing new words, ones he did not write, ones of his own.

" 'Let me see those eyes.' "

Morpheus whined against his pillow, both from pleasure and frustration. He hated this. This was... mortifying, and yet he could not stop. He arched his back, chasing his pleasure.

" 'Fuck! I've waited for this for so long.' "

Morpheus came in his pyjamas in a muffled grunt, the release helping nothing with the shame spreading through him. It brought him some clarity, at least. Disgruntled, he yanked the earbuds out of his ears, Robert Gadling's voice reduced to a hushed whisper, the siren's song finally muffled. He looked down at himself, suddenly aware of the mess he'd made. Great. Fantastic.

His phone buzzed again. It was Lucienne.

Do you want the edited files once they are done? They would love your feedback before they start trimming it down.

Morpheus sighed, struggling against the brightness of the screen.

Yes, tell them I would like them.

[denny-artsss]

Can we pls have more hc of your interpretation of ribbuny outside the circus? 👉👈

Of course I love the human au!

-literally, the only one supporting their relationship honestly is Kinger

-Gangle's parents can't stand Jax

-Jax's mom can't stand Gangle (but she can't stand her own son either)

-Thanksgivings at Gangles parents is always awkward. Each year.

-Jax enjoys being babied but doesn't admit it

-They go on dates every weekend

-They hang out with everyone else in their free time, holding sleepovers and stuff.

-Gangle does not like Jax's mom and humors her.

-Jax and Gangle will get into fights often, as well as "physical" fights. And by "physical" I mean they wrestle on the floor like two siblings fighting over a toy.

-Jax tells everyone he's the top (no one believes him.)

-Gangle keeps bringing cats home, they currently have 4. (Jax gave like 6 other cats to zooble and Ragatha)

-Jax always brings Gangle flowers, flowers he ripped off his neighbors yard.

-Gangle smokes if she gets too stressed, but not in front of Jax. (Theres a reason for this)

-Jax is always Hype, he has ADHD.

-Jax is often cooking, so if he feels lazy he'll buy take out with Gangles credit card and throw it in the pot, pretending he cooked it. (Gangle literally gets a notification on her phone when he orders take out with her card.)

-Gangle works as a art/acting teacher at a collage. Her side job is drawing commissions.

-Jax does really badly drawn drawings of her that she sticks to the fridge.

-Cuddling is their coping mechanism

-they both have a driver license but Gangle doesn't let Jax drive cause...he's Jax.

-Jax still quotes random vines and memes from ages ago.

-Ragatha will always show up unannounced and walk in like "are you guys home?" To wich Jax will reply with "no."

-Gangle keeps making dad jokes.

-Gangle really enjoys dressing up in nice clothing, she's a lot into fashion.

-Gangle owns a pair of comedy and tragedy mask earrings that Jax bought for her birthday because of the fact she loves teaching acting and art, but he said while giving them to her "here they reminded me of your Bipolar ass."

-this whole au just feels like a giant sitcom.

(Yall I can make scenarios if you want me to, just ask in my inbox)

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Yay fellow aroace!

I love cute moments too! Yours are so adorable as well!

So uhm… maybe a little sis annabeth being protected / being taken care of by her older cool sis?

I loved the punk Jason concept as well so maybe something similar? Thank you so much if you do this!

And yeah! Byeee

🖤🩶🤍💚

Thanks so much for this ask even though it's been sitting in my inbox for centuries lol I have so many asks and little motivation but this one was so close to done, that's why the endings a little rushed &lt;3

Bite me, bitch boy--- Annabeth Chase/Protective older sister!reader

»»————-　★　————-««

-Annabeth got to camp when she was seven. She became the cabin counselor at nine. 

-Who in their right mind let a literal baby be in charge of eight bossy, snarky, far too intelligent and prideful demigods? Who said, ‘you know what this cabin needs? A child to run it!’

-It was safe to say that when you got to camp at fifteen years old and soon after got shoved into a wooden cabin full of unorganized folders and sheets of paper and books, with three toothbrushes [eight kids???] and a mini fridge with literally nothing in it, you had something to say.

-Specifically to Chiron, who reassured you that you could of course speak with the cabin counselor about how the children of Athena were living, once she got back from her quest.

-Oh, so maybe there was a proper leader here, they were just away. That made sense, they’d be smart, and obviously knew what they were doing. That shut you up for a few days, and put up with the fact there were no lights out and your little brother hadn’t showered in two weeks. 

-Then a scrawny, angry at the world, little girl came back with swinging braids and far too sharp a knife for a twelve year old, carting behind her a traumatized school boy and a very hungry goat.  

-Your expectations took a dip.

-After your new little sister was tucked into bed and you finally figured out how to threaten your siblings into shutting their books and going to sleep [Spiders, spiders were the key.], you marched straight back to Chiron and demanded a union.

-You didn’t get one. 

-So instead you did some spring cleaning. While your siblings were out showing off their wits and picking strawberries, you stacked up every piece of paper in the cabin and threw out all the random things from three years ago, organizing everything away neatly into the bookshelves and filing cabinets no one had thought to use yet. A deep clean began, and you probably held up the laundry near the infirmary for a good four hours. 

-You found an old cork board in the stables that Butch [he was nice, even if he only talked about Pegasi and a comic called Heartstopper] let you take, and pinned up everyone schedules on it, instead of where they had been washi taped to the bathroom mirror. One of your brother's school reports appeared in the mini fridge as well, so that got pinned up too. 

-Said mini fridge was filled with water and strawberries that Malcom brought back, along with mud that got tracked through the fluffy rug you’d exchanged with Silena for the third volume of Butch’s comic. 

-Annabeth glared at you with those stormy eyes that everyone in the cabin shared. 

-Apparently, as the head counselor of the Athena cabin, she was supposed to be the one doing all the things you’d done, and she did not appreciate your disrespect for the rules or her position.

-Once she found the wafer biscuits in the minifridge you’d grabbed from the camp store after Katie got one of the old ipods you’d brought with you to camp after finding out about the wifi rule, she calmed down a little.

»»————-　★　————-««

-Annabeth was fuming.

-How dare you just… come into her cabin and take over?

-How come all her other siblings didn’t seem to mind that you had this one really cool tattoo on your thigh and seemed to be allowed to just wander into the camp store and take stuff, because apparently Katie owed you something and the Athena cabin got free wafers?

-And somehow Clarrise decided not to dunk your head in the toilet on your first day [Percy was unhappy about that as well, but seaweed belonged in water anyway. He didn’t like that comment either.] because something about Silena and hearts stopping? 

-Annabeth was supposed to be in charge, and now you were going to the camp counselor meeting instead and forcing Annabeth to lay in bed all day with a box of tissues because a temperature of forty degrees wasn’t normal. You even brought back a bag of those cheetos that the Stolls always dug up for meetings for her. 

-It sucked.

-So she decided to let some of her anger out in the form of beheading each and every dummy propped up in the arena. 

-Stuffing was scattered around on the sandy floor and Annabeth could feel beads of sweat on her dark skin. Her knife was flecked with the blood that beaded on her palm after clenching her knife too tightly for too long.

-A few Iris kids were casting rainbow mists that faded into droplets of poison on the other side of the arena, and she was careful to avoid them as she whipped around and got one of the dummies in the back of the neck, which would kill any normal person not sewn together by a bored teenager.

-Of course the sawdust billowing up wasn’t helping her stuffy nose or unfocused eyes because actually that dummy’s torso looked like a great pillow but then she was tearing out its insides because she wasn’t sick. 

-She refused to let you be all cool and right and big sister-y because Annabeth was in charge, she didn’t need a big sister to make her hot chocolate before bed when she had to finish a model for Hecate's new potion shop on Olympus and take spiders out of the bathroom because somehow you didn’t find then as absolutely terrifying as the rest of them did.

-The braid that hit her cheek felt like a spider leg in that moment and Annabeth fell back with a yelp, pulling all her hair behind her shoulders and breathing hard, her glinting knife near her feet.

-It was shiny and metallic and there were spider legs and then she was running, sprinting and puffing and following that arachnid-like robot from Hephaestus through the Labyrinth before they all lost it and got stuck walking in circles and circles and circles with spider legs crawling over her skin that were in her lungs-

-Shit. 

-Deep breaths, that was all she needed to do. Annabeth pushed a fist to her chest and rolled her shoulders back, trying to blink away the image of the metallic spider crawling over her shoe.

-There was a cackle of laughter and she righted herself. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t scared. And she was not going to be laughed at. 

-She turned but her braids were still touching her and they were crawling over her and she couldn’t breathe because the spiders were on her but she wasn’t scared and she would not be laughed at and her knife fell out of her hand and-

-”If you don’t leave right now, I’m rostering you all on for clean up duty in the kitchens tonight, and I’m telling Butch it was you guys who let Olive and Clover out onto the lava wall!” 

-”He won’t believe you, and you can’t boss us around, newbie!” Someone yelled, and Annabeth pulled all of her hair back, a gray streak in the corner of her was tucked behind her ear. She felt like throwing up when the heat washed over her skin, prickly as a cactus. 

-”Bite me, bitch boy!” You snapped, and there was a clanging of metal and then a yelp.

-Silence filled the arena as Iris kids shuffled out, but Annabeth lost track of them a moment later because there was four of them and then eight and then twelve and then it hurt her head too much to count and suddenly there was two of you marching up,a shiny spear speckled with poison rainbow droplets. 

-You dropped the spear and Annabeth couldn’t see much else because everything was grainy and full of static and the heat on her dark skin was crawling with spiders and itchiness.

-Annabeth stepped forwards, the ground coming a lot closer to her face than she planned. 

-She gulped down a cry of pain and squinted up at you, then tried to tell you to fuck off, because she wasn’t sick. It only came out as a pathetic mumble, and she lay limp, glaring up at you foggily.

-You smiled, and Annabeth tried to take it patronizingly so she could continue hating you. But it wasn’t patronizing, even when you spoke softly, “Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

-Annabeth huffed as she was carried out, “Mnuhsick.”

-“Percy and that funny goat boy are waiting.” Your smile was patronizing then. “They brought Hidden Figures and Legally Blonde.” 

-“Msick.”

-“That’s what I thought.” 

»»————-　★　————-««