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casualcatte · 4 years ago

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RP Journal: 08/09/2020

Rae-Hann appeared to visit me today; it’s been a short bit since I’ve seen him, so he was welcome, as always. He has a strangely calming presence, the mystel, and I find I can talk to him about most anything. There was something a little disconcerting about his reason for finding me, though.

[ Courtsey cut for length. Are these ever short?! ]

It was just to give me a book, written mostly in Vrandtic, but with some parts on Astromancy that he thought might interest me. “I don’t want it left unattended,” he’d said, “should I find myself here physically. Or, dead.” That last worried me. Was he in some manner of trouble? Trouble always seemed to find Rae, no matter where in the worlds he went. I couldn’t help but ask him.

A secret, he said. I had to keep it a secret. Especially from Frey and Shieda. I owe more loyalty to Rae than the two of them combined, so being Rae’s secret-keeper was of little concern to me. What followed… I won’t even write here. A secret is a secret, after all. And Frey is a clever catte who would be the type to ferret out my journal just to see if I’d written anything. So, no, Frey, if you’re reading this. You’re not going to get it out of me. If Rae-Hann wanted you to know, he’d have told you.

He reassured me that I wouldn’t have to hunt him down, so that’s a relief. I have no doubt I could do it easily, but I wouldn’t want to. That’s a position I’d prefer to never have to be in. Still, I plan to keep an eye on Rae as much as I can, which means getting business concluded in Kugane and Ishgard so I can go back to the drama hot-bed that is Ul’dah. Gods, why do you keep dragging me back to that place?

Rae also spoke of helping him on some Vrandtic expedition he’ll be going on soon. I told him that he knows how to call for me if needed, so I suspect I’ll be taking a dream journey soon. I’m curious about this underwater trip that requires no swimming, though. How is that even going to work?

I’d have to figure it out later, because almost as if he has a sixth sense that I’m talking to someone else, Edgard Beaumont puts in an appearance. How is it that he knows just when to interrupt a pleasant conversation with the crushing weight of his ego? He was, of course, uniquely Edgard, making inferences about my relationship to Rae-Hann, who is only mentor and friend.

Though, once he heard mentor he couldn’t help but bring up that gods-awful Hunt and how I’d missed four shots. /Ugh./ Why did he even have to hear about it? I swear, I’m never going to live it down til the day I die. Or he does. It makes it very tempting to shoot him.

Edgard was Edgard, all talk and suave and confident assurance that I was enamored with him. However, the shocking thing wasn’t Edgard. It was Rae-Hann. There was a… concern there that I’d never before seen. Not like he was jealous, but more like my godfather, questioning if Edgard had untoward motives. Color me doubly gob-smacked when it seemed to… I don’t know, subdue Edgard. He admitted he liked my company. Admitted that it was all in good will and that he had no intention of trying to seduce me. I’m almost convinced he meant it.

Once Rae left, Edgard almost seemed uncomfortable that he’d made the admissions, like someone had suddenly pulled the mask off his facade and yelled “Ta-da!” It was...strange to see him so vulnerable, stripped of the veneer that was his cavalier, womanizing attitude. I only managed to tease him about it briefly before he shifted the topic to Edmond.

He’d apparently seen his brother somewhere recently and they’d made it a point to make up with one another. I was genuinely glad to hear it; family is such an important thing. It’s a shame to see people take it for granted, they don’t realize how lucky they are. There are some of us in the world that have no family to speak of. He went on to say that Edmond was in some manner of trouble, though he had no specifics on the why or the how. I offered to help, which, of course, Edgard had to make about him and how much I care about him. I swear, he’s such an idiot sometimes.

It didn’t take long for Edgard to recover from whatever blow Rae-Hann had dealt him. He was soon back to his usual antics. He mentioned somewhere along the line that he’d told me his intent wasn’t serious back in Ul’dah, but it’s hard to take Edgard seriously about anything when he’s talking to me. To listen to him tell someone else that his flirtations were empty and that it was just in goodwill and fun… it brought a strange sense of relief. I hadn’t realized it til then, how I was expecting him to try something or suggest something, prepared to haul off and slap him for it whenever it happened. It was nice to let go of that expectation. I felt more relaxed, less guarded. Like I wasn’t walking across a Garlean mine-field.

I started to feel more at ease, like I didn’t have to question every gesture and every turn of phrase for fear that he’d get the wrong idea. The rest of the night passed easily until the Ishgardian decided to go to bed, virtuously alone, but in those moments he seemed almost happy. Content. More than I’d seen him since the day I met him.

When I got back to the Bokairo, there was a mail moogle waiting with a letter for me from Lorrendor Hauland. I was sorely, sorely tempted to punt that marshmallow lump back to wherever it came from. I’m not even sure what he expected to accomplish by sending it. An apology on paper from half a world away? Tch. If you can’t even muster the guts to face me in person about the harm you’ve done, you don’t deserve to be forgiven.

Tristane was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to face in my life. I /watched/ him die, even as I tried to save him. I can still feel the heat of his blood pumping over my hands in time with his heartbeat as I tried to staunch the most vital of his wounds. I can still feel his bloodied hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears as he gasped out that he was glad I was safe. Gods damn you Tristane Alexander, I never wanted to be safe! I wanted to live or die at your side, as your partner and your love. I wanted us to fight this battle together. But you left me behind…

(whatever came next was scribbled out in a large block of ink)

I buried him with my own two hands beneath the caelumtree where we first met. There isn’t a thing about home that doesn’t remind me of him and why going home is always so bittersweet for me. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s also why I left…

These feelings are not weapons to be used against me when someone finds them convenient. When someone wants to manipulate me into permitting behavior I would never allow. I never share Tristane’s death lightly and to have it used as a crutch to try get me to accept being treated as anything other than an equal...as anything other than a /friend/... I can’t just /forgive/ that. I would never use that kind of knowledge like that.

Gods, just look at what I know about Edgard and Rae-Hann, the loves they’ve lost. I would never use that knowledge to try and manipulate them. The very idea makes me sick to my stomach. Their pain, that agony, is a symbol of trust and vulnerability that should be kept sacred and precious. Used only to make them better men and for their own gain, not as a method and means for mine.

I just can’t understand the thinking. Maybe I just don’t get it.

Mentions @yokasaris for Rae-Hann @sola-ffxiv for side-mention of Frey I don’t think any of the other nerds mentioned have Tumblrs (yet)

#[Journal: Rhythm of the Night]#Aultena Sephimiri #FFXIV #FFXIV RP #FFXIV Roleplay #Balmung RP #Balmung Roleplay #Balmung Roleplayer #Crystal RP #Crystal Roleplay #Crystal Roleplayer #Character Journal #Rae-Hann #[Friendship: Star Nerds]#Edgard Beaumont #[Friendship: Pathfinder]#Lorrendor Hauland #[Friendship: Hunter-Kin]

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ruffboijuliaburnsides · 5 years ago

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and yet, here we are (pt5)

i emerge victorious with... I think it’s not quite a full chapter. I haven’t decided yet. but because I finished a chunk, tumblr gets it!

There is a very brief not-quiet-suicidal thought that is promptly dismissed in the first few paragraphs, just under the cut.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) Now on AO3

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

Jaskier struggled in Geralt's absence, with how overwhelmingly silent the room was when he couldn't speak or sing. The first night he slept poorly, but it was otherwise uneventful, no reason to worry about Geralt on the road, likely not even all the way to his destination, no performances to put on. After waking, he didn't feel like descending to the main room, and tried to convince himself that returning to as normal as possible a routine would be best. He got as far as pulling out his journal, but found himself staring at the most recent unfinished scattering of lyrics for a song whose melody he couldn't quite get right when he'd been working on it last. He stared at it until he noticed the darkening dots of tears falling onto the paper, and shut it with a snap, all but throwing it at his pack across the room, swiping angrily at his eyes.

With Geralt gone, unable to hate himself more for something Jaskier realistically didn't want him to take blame for, Jaskier allowed himself to feel angry. Angry that Geralt wouldn't listen to him that the djinn wouldn't do anything to help him sleep. Bitter that Geralt hadn't been more careful with what he said. Angry that Geralt had been able to find some way to save his life but not his voice.

Bitter that he'd been saved in this state at all. There was no place in the world for a bard with no voice, and part of him wondered if it wouldn't have been better if Geralt hadn't been able to get him help in time.

Jaskier quashed that line of thought almost as soon as it came up. It was one thing to be angry and bitter, but alive was better than not. Alive meant he could stay with Geralt. Alive meant more wine, and new adventures, and regardless of the situation, as angry and miserable as Jaskier was now, he wanted to see more of the world.

He still let himself stew angrily the entire first day he was there alone, and left the room only for lunch and supper. He tried as best he could to smile at Janah - the innkeeper's name, he learned - who was almost too kind to bear when she realized that rather than simply being shy the afternoon before, he actually couldn't speak. She fed him up at the bar, chatted about the local gossip that he had no context for, told him about interesting patrons she'd had before, and shooed away anyone who tried to ask him questions or otherwise bother him.

He drank himself nearly into a stupor after supper that night, despite the fact that he shouldn't have been wasting what little money they had, and had essentially emptied the coin purse for Janah by the end of the evening, and barely remembered her helping him upstairs to his bed. The next morning he woke to a pitcher of water and a fresh loaf of bread on a tray on the table, next to Geralt's coin purse, refilled with all the coin he'd spent the night before. The note set between them simply read, "I can spare one night's worth of ale for you to drown whatever sorrows you have hidden away. Eat and drink, you'll feel better."

Jaskier sat at the table and cried silently over her kindness even as he forced himself to eat and drink as instructed. Once he finished, he placed the tray in the hall and, feeling the headache pounding behind his eyes not improving, climbed back into bed. He lay there dozing in and out of unsatisfying sleep, crying intermittently, until long after sunset, unable to summon the energy to get out of bed for meals, let alone dress and make his way downstairs. The silence rang in his ears.

Geralt was planning to be gone four days at the most, and when he hadn't made it back to the inn by the time the sun had set and the evening crowd was well on their way to drunk on that second day since he'd left, Jaskier felt confident that Geralt wouldn't be back until the next day, at least. It was for the best, he thought, because it would allow him to purge as much of this... melancholy as possible before Geralt came back.

He was curled up and staring blankly out the dirty glass of the window next to the bed when the door opened. He only barely recognized the sound of it, his mind distant and unreachable, and he thought faintly that it was good he wasn't crying - hopefully Janah would assume he was asleep, and leave whatever reason she was coming upstairs until tomorrow. Maybe he could be a person tomorrow. There were other sounds, but they were faint, and Jaskier couldn't bring himself to even care about what they might be.

He only half processed the feeling of someone sitting on the edge of the bed, a soft voice speaking sounds he couldn't quite turn into words, the feeling of being pulled upright and into someone's arms. It was the warmth of those arms wrapped around him, the rumble of quiet speech, that pulled him (painfully, like through molasses by a toothed shackle) back into himself.

Geralt was holding him, all but cradled against his chest, murmuring worriedly. "Come back, Jaskier. Come on, you're strong enough." Jaskier tucked it away in the back of his head, the fact that Geralt didn't seem too shocked to find Jaskier had just left his body behind like that, even if he didn't mean to do it. He shifted, exhaled shakily, and Geralt's hold tightened slightly.

"Okay, Jaskier?" he asked, his voice vibrating through his chest almost like a cat's purr, resonating through Jaskier's bones in a way that made him want Geralt to just keep talking forever. That was too much of an ask, obviously, but for a moment Jaskier actually felt like he could breathe. Jaskier nodded, then shook his head, and found the tears spilling over again despite himself. He would've thought he didn't have a tear left in him, but apparently his body had taken time during his little mental jaunt to the foggy nowhere he'd spent the evening in to create more.

Geralt let out an unhappy grumble at his response, but simply shifts Jaskier into a little more comfortable of a position, Jaskier's head tucked under his chin. It was warm and safe and Jaskier wished for just a moment that he could have this forever, this space in Geralt's arms, not just now while he's so broken and Geralt feels so guilty. He knew he couldn't, but just for now, he could pretend. Geralt held him, still and silent, until Jaskier's breathing evened out and his tears finally stopped.

"Got you something," Geralt said, shifting to try to reach his things. Jaskier pushed off his chest reluctantly to allow him to stretch further, head tilted curiously. Since when did Geralt get him things? Geralt pulled out what looked briefly like a little wooden book of some sort, before Jaskier lit up and reached out for it in recognition, opening the wooden panels to reveal the wax tablets and stylus inside. It was nice, as well, the wax the perfect firmness for quick writing, without needing too much effort to scratch letters into the surface. The stylus was a design Jaskier had seen before, that had a mild enchantment on it that warmed both the metal ends, to better cut through the wax when writing, and to easily and quickly smooth the wax out to write something else.

Jaskier ran his fingers lightly over the tablets for a moment as it really sank in, in a different way, that he would be dependent on this tool and this man who gave it to him, for the foreseeable future. That it wasn't going to be a quick or easy fix to get his voice back. The tablet was bittersweet - a tool to let him communicate, but a reminder of everything he'd lost. He wondered if that aching bitterness under the sweet would be with him forever, or if it would fade.

Thanks. Jaskier scribbled in the wax after a moment, holding it up for Geralt to see. The corners of the witcher's eyes crinkled slightly and his mouth twitched a bit in what Jaskier had come to recognize as a smile.

"There are ways to speak with your hands that we can learn, if you want," Geralt says as Jaskier smoothes the wax to flat again. "But I thought this would be cheaper than paper when we can't get it, and easier than finding the right kind of dirt." Jaskier couldn't help a little bark of laughter at that, unnervingly silent as it was, at the mental image of Geralt trying to find a patch of dirt every time Jaskier wanted to say something. Easier indeed.

Hand speak. Like soldiers? Jaskier wrote, tilting the tablet towards Geralt. He knew that soldiers or scouts would often have hand signals they used to communicate silently. He wasn't sure anything like that would have even a fraction of the words he'd want to say, but it would at least be faster than writing.

"Similar," Geralt answered with a nod. "Better for actually talking, though. They have a kind of hand speech in Mahakam that would suit, I think." Jaskier's eyebrows shot up, because Geralt was relying on the possibility that the dwarves and gnomes that essentially ruled the mountain city would allow them in to learn it in the first place.

How get in? Jaskier wrote, looking up at Geralt uncertainly. Geralt's jaw set in a way that made it clear he'd thought about the difficulty too, possibly a lot.

"Not sure," Geralt admitted. "We'll convince them." And that was that, apparently. Jaskier couldn't quite disbelieve him, either, when he spoke like that. So they'd go to Mahakam and the two of them would learn how to speak with their hands. Jaskier wouldn't deny that sounded like a dream come true, to be able to speak faster than he could write, even if it was with hands instead of lips and voice. It was a kind of acceptance, though, a bigger kind than just a wax tablet represented. As much as it excited him, it also made something twist up unpleasantly in his chest.

Geralt seemed to notice the shift in Jaskier's demeanor, and frowned slightly, watching Jaskier's face intently. Jaskier had to remind himself that it was just necessity, his expressions helped Geralt understand what he was saying - or not saying - and so Geralt watched like he was drinking Jaskier in. Just to be kind. It didn't mean anything more than that. He waved Geralt off, and wrote, Just tired, on the tablet. Which, admittedly, was not untrue, despite how little he'd done and how much he'd slept all day.

"Hm," Geralt grunted in response, and got to his feet to strip down and get ready to sleep. Jaskier smoothed the wax down and traced the edges of the wood with a faint smile. Everything else aside, the knowledge that Geralt was trying this hard to find solutions for him was nice. More than nice. It made Jaskier want to throw caution to the wind and kiss Geralt thoroughly. He wouldn't, lest he drive Geralt away, put him off of the comforting touches he'd been allowing Jaskier to have the past... had it been a week? Maybe over a week, since he woke up silent. The choking feeling of words he couldn't speak started rising in his throat, and he set the wax tablet on the windowsill, then slid under the blankets to curl up and try to fight it down while Geralt went through his small habits and rituals.

It was still there trying to push out in a scream he couldn't voice when Geralt put out the candles and climbed into the bed, immediately curling against the line of Jaskier's back as he had every night since he heard Jaskier crying in the middle of the night and came to hold him. The weight of Geralt's arm draped over his stomach was enough to start to dissolve the choking feeling in Jaskier's throat, and he sighed softly in relief, melting back into Geralt's chest. He knew it was Geralt trying to be comforting and compassionate. He knew that once he was a little less falling apart, Geralt would go back to his own bed or bedroll. But until that day, Jaskier was going to appreciate this and soak up as much of the affection as he could.

"G'night, Jaskier," Geralt mumbled, his breath warming the back of Jaskier's neck and sending shivers down his spine. Jaskier squeezed the wrist of the arm Geralt had slung over him, and hoped that little touch communicated a reciprocal.

Jaskier drifted off with the soft slow rhythm of Geralt's breathing lulling him into sleep.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) Now on AO3

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #voiceless jaskier au #ayhwa #HECK YEAH #this didn't take me like. nearly 3 days or anything.#despite knowing exactly what I wanted it to be #nooooope

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allimariexf · 6 years ago

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As many of you know, I was at the Arrow 7x22 filming that took place in North Vancouver on Tuesday, April 9 at the “Olicity cabin.”

It ended up being an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experience that I am still processing. Those of you who are on the Olicity Discord channel (want to join us? read more about it here) shared this experience with me in real-time, but I also wanted to share with the wider fandom on tumblr. So, what follows is a bare-bones rundown of what happened. (I AM GOING TO TRY TO BE SUPER BRIEF HERE. Sorry ahead of time for when I inevitably fail.)

So my husband saw the filming notice on Twitter (which I had already seen of course) and he messaged me: “wanna jet up to Vancouver?” He was only half serious, but you know once the idea was in my head, there was no other option. Anyway, we only live 3 hours (and one country) from the filming location, so we left late Monday night, got a little sleep, and were at the filming location by 8:30 on Tuesday morning. There weren’t really any crew around at that point, so I snapped a few photos (just sharing a few here to save space).

When the crew came over to where we were, they talked to us (they were super nice all day!) and I assured them I was there to see what I could see, and we planned to follow the rules. I asked about photos, they said “NOPE,” and I didn’t take any more photos on set that day (except for the one below 😏 which was fully authorized).

Cutting for length. There is much, much more under the cut.

So we were hanging out with a great view of the Olicity cabin and the fence around the property. We could see into the property too, and there we saw an archery target set up in the cabin’s backyard. (That might be a spoiler, but Canadagraphs or whatever that site is already leaked photos of it so whatever).

The actors were brought onto set in tinted-window SUVs that would drive up, turn around in the narrow street, and back up onto the property to let them out. I didn’t realize that actors were being dropped off the first 2 times it happened, so I missed the first two actors that got dropped off. I am pretty sure one of them was Stephen, because I never saw him arrive. I did see Emily arrive!

AND - this has been leaked by that paparazzi dude, too, so I might as well share - I saw LaMonica Garrett arrive. Discord friends can attest that I freaked the fuck out. Because FUCK. The second I saw him walk out of his SUV, I was just like 😱😱😱

The morning was basically spent watching the crew, and hearing what was happening filming-wise: when they blocked, rehearsed, and filmed, the entire crew would yell out the direction so that everyone always knew what was happening and people knew to be quiet. It was really cool.

During the “morning” (until I walked up to get lunch around 3:30), 4 or 5 - I think 5 - scenes were shot. I’m pretty sure they were all indoor. I was able to hear details about who were in the scenes and where they were for some of the scenes, but I wasn’t able to watch because everything was inside or behind the fence. Around 1 PM we heard them say that David was due on set, but hadn’t arrived yet. At that point, I started getting concerned about exactly who he was and wasn’t going to film with and what it would all mean.

Throughout the day, Stephen and Emily (and LaMonica in the whole Monitor get-up!) would occasionally walk out. It was very cool, and also bittersweet, because it was Emily’s last day filming.

The crew was super welcoming all day. People kept wandering over and talking to us, and they saw how freezing cold my husband and I were - especially me - and they brought us hand and body warmers! Several of them said they would let the actors know that we were out there so that they could some say hi, which was so nice! But I didn’t want to get my hopes up, seeing as it was Emily’s last day and not only was everyone super emotional, but they had farewell events planned, and a bunch of guests coming on set to be a part of it:

At one point a woman arrived and introduced herself to the crew as “Diane” - it was Emily’s mom. Later, Stephen left the set, walking up the hill to the road, and when he came back, Stephen and Emily’s friend Carina was with him. At some point his wife and daughter arrived, too.

Around 3 or 3:30, everyone (cast and crew and guests) gathered around in the cabin’s backyard (behind a fence, alas) and I could tell that Emily was speaking, but I couldn’t hear what she said. Probably other people spoke too. There were intermittent rounds of applause.

After that, Stephen came over to me and my husband and chatted with us and we took a photo:

After that, a lot of the crew seemed to take a break, and it was clear they were preparing to shoot outside the house (they took down a lot of the equipment that was attached to the house for the indoor shoot). We took the opportunity to walk up the hill to this cool little “general store”/cafe, where we got lunch. (Later from Carina’s instrgram I saw that Emily and Carina had been there just a few minutes before us.) I took a couple selfies there to document the experience ;)

By then it was maybe 4:00 or so and we kinda thought that Stephen was done filming for the day, but a crewmember had confirmed that Emily would still be shooting for the rest of the day, so we went back down to the set to see what we could see. I can’t remember if David had shown up at that point, but we knew he was still going to be filming, and I was crossing my fingers like crazy that he was going to film with both Emily and Stephen, but I was worried it might only be Emily.

When we got back to “our” spot outside the set, they had removed all the cables and equipment that previously had bordered the property. A second later, we found out why when a crewmember walked over - they were going to be filming outside, including the area where we had been standing all day.

And then they invited us to come on set.

SO WE WENT ON SET.

MY FRIENDS. THERE ARE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW AMAZING IT WAS.

Those of you who are on the Discord server can (or have) read more about it, but honestly words can never do justice to how cool it was. So instead I’m just gonna list some things:

we were there for a total of one hour

I obviously didn’t get any photos because they made us put our phones away, of course

the crew was SO FRIENDLY and awesome, and I am so indebted to them for the experience of a lifetime

we got introduced to a BUNCH of crewmembers. The one crewmember who had sort of “adopted” us kept going out of her way to introduce us to literally everyone who stopped by - and we were right in the middle of the action so many many people stopped by. One person we got to talk to was Rebecca Rosenberg, the co-writer of both 7x15 and this episode, 7x22. So cool! She was very nice.

we also got introduced to actors, including:

David Ramsey!!!!! who talked to us and shook our hands

Caity Lotz! (Whose presence I wouldn’t have spoiled except that Carina already spoiled it on her instagram account, so I might as well share it now). She also shook our hands and talked to us.

they let us stay and watch while they filmed a scene. (I’ve decided not to generally spoil anything about the scene, because the crew were honestly so nice, and just in case, I don’t want to get any of them in trouble. Sorry. 😛) They positioned us in a spot where we could see:

two monitors that showed what the camera saw as it filmed

the camera itself, so we could see the camera as it filmed (honestly so cool)

the actual area and actors as they filmed the scene (so we could watch it “in real life” and on the screen at the same time!)

the director (Bam Bam!) and all the associated people, and we could hear all his directions straight from his mouth.

since we were right in the middle of the action for an hour, we saw a bunch of people coming and going, and standing around right next to us, including all the actors mentioned above, and Stephen, and his family (wife and daughter who, along with Caity, were seated right next to us for awhile - you can actually see on Carina’s instagram video the exact spot where we were standing - right by the metal leg of the pop-up canopy), and Emily! (more on that below)

the crewmember who had adopted us asked us if we had tried craft service, and when we said “no,” she basically insisted (lol) that we go to the craft service table and partake. (Seriously, they were so nice!). AND GUESS WHAT?? (Aside from watching the filming this is the other thing I will NEVER BE OVER). EMILY’S GOODBYE CAKE WAS THERE and they told us to have some!!! (The cake had a piece of chocolate on it with writing on it that said “Thanks for 7 Smoakin years” 😭😭😭😭) SO. YOU GUYS. I CUT A PIECE OF CAKE FOR MYSELF FROM EMILY’S CAKE. I TOOK A SLICE OF EMILY’S GOODBYE CAKE. I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE IT.)

but I did not eat the cake right away, because I knew the instant it was in my hand that I had to take a picture 😂 But I couldn’t take any pictures on set, obviously, so I just held onto it for an hour!! 😂😂😂

at one point after we had our cake, Emily walked by and looked at us and I kinda smiled at her and she said, “I heard it’s good!” (So, while I never did get to talk to her or get a photo, she did talk to me lol)

after the scene was filmed, they came over and told us that, because they were going to be filming dialogue next, we had to leave.

Here’s the photo of the cake, before I ate it. (I ATE A PIECE OF EMILY’S GOODBYE CAKE OMG).

That’s basically it. We stayed another hour or so after that, and we watched another scene be filmed from afar, but after that they needed us to go up the hill to get out of the shot, and we couldn’t see anything anymore. By then it had been a very, very long day and we had already had an amazing experience, so we decided to leave without trying to wait for Emily. We figured she was having an emotionally exhausting day, not to mention a busy day, with a full day of filming plus friends and family on set, so we decided the odds of us actually getting to see her were probably small anyway. So, with only that one regret, we left.

And that is the story of one of the most unexpectedly amazing days of my life, when I got to witness the filming of Arrow 7x22.

Special shout-out to the FAM who lived it vicariously with me - it wouldn’t have been half as fun without you! @msbeccieboo @lucyyh @faegal04 @1-crazy-dreamer @puck038 @stephswims @bookolicitynessa @chrissykins-for-the-win @it-was-a-red-heeler @tangled23works @mirkakaroliina and all of the Discord FAM. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! 💗💗💗💗

(and extra special shout out to @1-crazy-dreamer who just saved my ass with screencaps of this post when tumblr fucked up and ate a third of it - my hero!!)

#arrow spoilers #about me #OMFG #250 plus notes #top post #top posts #selected favorite posts

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aurora-nova-fic · 6 years ago

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Deleted Scenes: Bittersweet Symphonies

I doubt I’ll be on this much all the time, but I realized this is a great way to share some deleted scenes from Bittersweet Symphonies, the conclusion to my Private Universe series. This series grabbed me and wouldn’t let go for 106k words. I adore the series, even though I now associate one of my favorite writing songs so strongly with Chapter 2 of Bittersweet Symphonies that I struggle to write anything else to it.

So, for my “yay I’m on tumblr” celebration, I present some of the scenes which didn’t make the final edit.

First up, this was originally written as the second-to-last Private Universe Snapshot:

The Interrogation

Garak left the basement to get food and was promptly accosted by Mila. “Tell me about him,” she said.

“Damar is Cardassia’s best chance, notwithstanding his past sins.” Garak would never forgive him for killing Ziyal, but he understood Damar had done so out of his sense of duty to the state. Presently, he saw no point in dredging up the past when they had a future to secure. He also knew that was unlikely to be what Mila meant, but a man could hope.

“Don’t play ignorant with me. You know perfectly well I’m not asking about Damar, and yes, I have a dampening field on. This is a private conversation.”

Really, one would have thought she’d realize now was not the time to pry into his personal affairs. The glare she fixed on him clearly conveyed otherwise. Garak had learned how to break people with his eyes from her, after all.

He gave in to the inevitable. “Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space Nine.”

“Human?” She wasn’t disgusted, merely curious.

Garak nodded.

“I’m waiting for details, Elim. I have been for years, so your dinner can wait a few more minutes.”

“It’s not my dinner I’m worried about,” he said. There was the rebellion to consider, foremost, and of course his ongoing quest to not be killed by the Dominion.

“You learned to control the malon anbar, I trust.”

Garak did not appreciate her saying the words aloud, dampening field or not. “Perfectly. And since you’re apparently willing to hold up our activities against the Dominion to satisfy your curiosity…”

“There are no activities to hold up, at the moment.”

“I was hoping to change that, but instead I’m being interrogated about my personal life.”

“I take my opportunities where I can get them.”

“Very well. If you must know, he is an exhilarating conversationalist.”

“That goes without saying, if he held your interest for any length of time.”

“He is in equal measure delightful and impossible. Would you believe he finds The Never Ending Sacrifice dull?”

Mila appeared to believe it. “I’ve always found it overrated myself. I think I like this man, Elim. Keep going.”

Garak hadn’t known she held this shocking opinion. “How can you possibly think it’s overrated?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but you have to admit it’s predictable.”

Aghast, Garak could only wonder from where he had gotten his refined taste in literature. Tain never had time for fiction, and now Mila didn’t appreciate The Never Ending Sacrifice. Appalling. “Presuming we survive, I’ll have to give you Shakespeare. Perhaps it will be more to your liking.”

“You’re stalling again.”

Garak grew weary of her insistence. “He is so generous it can hardly be believed. He is clever and mesmerizing and from a race which glorifies tales of people from separate worlds who overcome all obstacles to be together, but I am a realist, so I know better. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a rebellion leader to motivate.” He spun around, deciding he wasn’t hungry after all.

“Elim.”

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” he said, and went back down to the basement. If they didn’t defeat the Dominion, nothing else would matter anyway.

Why I cut it: I decided three snapshots in a row on the “they belong to different worlds” theme was a bit much, for one thing. I was also unsure if Garak was quite in character enough, though I was going for him being more open with his mother than he would be with anyone else. This was briefly the prologue for Bittersweet Symphonies, but I liked revisiting the Arwen & Aragorn bit from A Chasm in Perspective much better. Some of the dialogue made it into Garak’s flashback in the wedding scene.

Next up, a short bit from the subspace conversation where Julian tells Miles he’s an Augment.

“I hadn’t known it was possible to intimidate my father into silence. Garak is very impressive when he’s in full protective mode.” That he was protecting Julian had charmed his mother even more than it irritated his father.

“Scary as hell, is more like it. He stares at you like he’s thinking of twenty different ways to kill you and dispose of your body.”

This sounds like it’s coming from personal experience. “Something you’d like to share, Miles?”

“You remember right after your parents left, I thought I’d tease you by calling you Jules?”

“That was my name before,” Julian explains quietly. “I couldn’t tell you why it bothers me so much.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“But Garak did, and it answers a mystery.”

“What mystery?” asks Julian.

“He came to our quarters and told me I was never to call you Jules again. There was no ‘or else.’ There didn’t need to be. Twenty might be too low an estimate.”

Julian is touched to learn about this unexpected display of concern. “I didn’t know he’d done that.”

“He ‘suggested’ it would be better if you didn’t. I wasn’t about to argue. Anyway, that’s when I knew he really does care about you.”

Why I cut it: Too out of character for Garak.

Here we have a little bit from the beginning of the ka’tur-routzx, the blade ritual.

Garak removes the knife he keeps strapped to his ankle and throws it Julian’s way. The toss is an easy one, spinning lazily through the air, though judging by Dax’s gasp the whole situation looks very bad from a Federation perspective. Julian grabs the hilt of the knife as it tumbles over end toward him. He can manage harder catches – the enhanced hand-eye coordination is useful – but isn’t likely to appreciate an ostentatious display of his abilities. Garak is still working on that.

“You throw knives when you love the person you just married?” O’Brien asks, incredulous.

“That’s not the ritual, it’s Elim showing off the hard work he put into my self-defense lessons.”

Julian finally agreed to the instruction after Interment Camp 371. Starfleet Medical sends its doctors out into the galaxy woefully untrained to face attackers, and Garak has long held a deep interest in keeping Julian alive. Besides, the augmentations did him little to no good when he didn’t know how to best use them to his advantage.

“I hope you practiced in the holosuites first,” says Dax.

“Fake knife, actually,” says Julian as he stands. “Are we going to perform parlor tricks, or are we going to do this?”

Oh, he is glorious. The remark is just forward and inviting enough for the situation without being too blatantly seductive in front of their guests. Garak couldn’t have come up with better himself.

Why I cut it: This one was a real kill your darlings moment, because I love, love “Are we going to perform parlor tricks, or are we going to do this?” But the scene served the line, not the other way around, and I think the final product flows better without this part.

Here’s a bit from Ezri’s POV as she and Kira leave Cardassia after the wedding.

“You and Garak really came to an understanding, didn’t you?” asks Ezri while she starts the runabout’s preflight.

“Yes,” says Nerys. “He’s done terrible things, things I could never condone. But he did them for Cardassia.”

Ezri doesn’t know why that makes Garak’s misdeeds acceptable until Nerys adds quietly, “I’ve done terrible things for Bajor.”

That… actually explains a lot.

In any event, while Ezri could never marry someone like Garak, she appreciates what Julian has with him. “They’re happy,” she says. “I’m glad something good has come of Julian leaving Starfleet. I really think he’s going to be okay. And you know, I don’t think Garak is worried about me anymore.”

“Worried?”

Ezri weighs how much she can say. “Keeping Jadzia’s secrets.”

“So she did know about the two of them.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I figured,” says Nerys. “It seemed like the kind of thing Julian would have told her.”

He had, of course, and then he and Garak developed the private universe and Jadzia was utterly fascinated by the scientific implications. When she was dying, she thought mostly about the people she was leaving behind and the child she’d never have, but she had briefly regretted that she’d never unravel the mysteries of the malon anbar. It was the only science project she thought about, at least before Julian had to remove Dax.

Ezri shakes her head. “Sorry. Memories.” She doesn’t get lost in them very often now, but it does happen, and they’re usually Jadzia’s. “Jadzia was protective of Julian’s relationship with Garak. She thought it was good for him, but she knew most people wouldn’t approve.”

“I wouldn’t have,” agrees Nerys.

Why I cut it: It didn’t fit or add much on its own, and I quickly abandoned the chapter it was going to be part of (which involved Kira collapsing and needing treatment, Julian performing another medical feat, and Garak fretting Starfleet would realize what a good doctor they’d let get away and offer Julian his commission back).

And finally, part of the epilogue which got the axe:

There’s a crate in the middle of their living room. “Is that from Mother?”

“Yes. She seems very concerned about you,” says Elim. “And after I wrote her a respectful letter promising not to let you starve, no less.”

In Cardassian terms, his mother’s habit of sending food expresses deep concern over Elim’s ability to keep him fed. “You know it’s not an insult by human standards, and I may have mentioned that you liked the marmalade she sent two care packages ago.”

Elim’s sweet tooth wins out. “I suppose there are worse problems than a spouse-mother looking to add variety to our diet,” he says, trying for more grudging than he actually manages.

The tentative rapprochement between Julian and his mother, begun on the station before the war intervened and he only rarely remembered to tell her he was still alive, is growing less tenuous. Part of this, he suspects, is that he’s no longer hiding in shame. The rest is due to her unconditional acceptance of everything: choosing to reveal his augmentations, moving to Cardassia, marrying Elim. She’s undemanding and supportive from a distance of light-years, and for the first time since he was a teenager, Julian is willing to give her a role in his life. He’s gotten in the habit of writing monthly.

They don’t speak of Father. As far as Julian is concerned, there’s no paternal relationship left to repair. Not in years, really, but the last straw was the letter he’d received after his wedding expressing Richard Bashir’s selfishness over Julian saving Kira’s life: Your mother and I could go to prison, did you even stop to think about that? As though it’s Julian’s job to protect his parents from the consequences of their actions.

The return address on the care package is Aunt Aya’s for the second box in a row. Mother has been visiting her sister for quite some time now, but Julian isn’t about to pry for details. He opens the box and sure enough, finds three jars of marmalade. Underneath them is his real prize. “Here it is. She said she was sending something to celebrate getting my license, and it arrived just in time.”

“What is that?”

“Her homemade lamb stew. She canned it for us.”

Elim is more interested in the marmalade, but he’s not about to refuse a break from ration bars.

They are better off than many people on Cardassia. Miles, Ezri, and Kira are evidently on a joint mission to ensure Julian, and by extension Elim, escape the worst of the current deprivations.

Why I cut it: This tried to cram way too much into the epilogue. If you’ve read The Tune Without the Words, you’ll see some ideas morphed into that piece.

Well, this is long and, now that I think about it, more than a bit self-indulgent, but blogs are self-indulgent by their very nature, so here it is, internet. ;)

#fanfic #garak/bashir #ds9 #deleted scene

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doves-wing · 6 years ago

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A Bittersweet Reunion

Alright so this is an AU I made with a friend where Swiftpaw lived and joined ShadowClan. Also Badgerfang is alive (along with Gorsepaw) and Swiftpaw and Badgerfang become mates. Swiftpaw becomes Swiftstorm and they’re just happy and gay <3. This isn’t set during any specific time, sometime after The Darkest Hour and Firestar’s Quest. Hope y’all enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: I didn’t write this on Tumblr, I’ve just copy and pasted it from a google doc so if the formatting is a bit weird that’s why.

A large brown dog snarled in front of him. It had a dangerous gleam in its eye, something unlike Swiftpaw had ever seen. The white and black tom had been attacked heavily already. Blood dripped down his face, back, and legs. Behind him lay Brightpaw. She could barely breathe. The tom had tears in his eyes.

‘If only I had just waited. If only I wasn’t so selfish. This is all my fault…’

Swiftpaw stood tall and bared his teeth. A hiss left his throat.

”I’m sorry Brightpaw. I never should’ve brought you here.”

“What are you doing Swiftpaw?”

“Saving you.”

Swiftpaw then leaped forward…

Swiftstorm was pulled out of his memories by someone calling his name. He picked his head up to see it was Badgerfang. The heavily scarred tom was partially hiding in the bushes surrounding Four Trees. He wasn’t used to being around so many cats, especially not after he had left his birth Clan.

Badgerfang was about to say something before he looked away from Swiftstorm as he heard pawsteps getting closer and closer to their location. The half-blind tom looked up and was shocked at who stood in front of him. It was Longtail...

"Swiftpaw?"

Swiftstorm sat silent for a moment before answering his former mentor.

"I'm Swiftstorm now."

Longtail looked from Badgerfang to Swiftstorm, to Swiftstorm to Badgerfang, putting the pieces together slowly.

"Did you join ShadowClan?" The ThunderClan warrior spit the Clan's name out harshly.

The white and black tom nodded weakly. He felt Badgerfang press against his side.

"So you've been alive, this entire time in ShadowClan and didn't think to say anything!"

Swiftstorm stayed quiet. Once Longtail realized his former apprentice wouldn't say anything he continued.

"Do you know how much Goldenflower has grieved over you? How much Brightheart has grieved over you! How much I've grieved over you! Everyone has mourned you yet it was all a lie." Longtail was forced to stop as he stifled a sob.

Swiftshadow picked his head up and met Longtail's eyes. One yellow eye met two green ones as the two warriors stayed silent. The white and black tom was about to say something when he heard two familiar voices. The voices stopped dead as Swiftstorm looked to see where they were coming from.

"Brightheart, Cloudtail." He tried not to have his voice waver. His memories of jealousy, betrayal, arrogance, and fear were so vivid he could smell the blood.

Brightheart gasped. She looked shocked to see him after all this time. Next to her was Cloudtail. He looked even more surprised than Brightheart, definitely more scared. Swiftstorm's gaze couldn't stay still. His eyes followed all of the scars the littered the ginger and white tabby's pelt. Their pelts matched that way, plus they both had large amounts of white. The biggest difference, or the most noticeable one at least, was that she was missing one of her eyes and that side of her face.

Swiftstorm knew that the dogs had done some serious damage, they were both extremely bloody towards the end of it but seeing her scars for the first time really put in perspective for him. They shouldn't have survived that day. Swiftstorm saw that Brightheart's face had the same expression as he did. Even though his injuries weren't as severe as hers, the sheer amount of small scars and bite marks that it registered for her as well that it was a miracle by StarClan that they survived.

"How do you know my name?" Brightheart stammered; trying to delay the inevitable.

"Badgerfang has kept me up to date on current events." Swiftstorm looked at his mate. Just by looking at the larger tom he was able to calm down slightly.

Swiftstorm took a deep breath and continued.

"I'm sorry for not returning to ThunderClan. I managed to crawl away from the dogs but I somehow headed directly for the ShadowClan border. Badgerfang found me and brought me back to his camp, Runningnose managed to save my life. And well, Tigerstar didn't want me leaving because he wanted an extra warrior. Overtime I just grew more and more adjusted to living in ShadowClan-" He paused and looked at Badgerfang. "-I just couldn't imagine living without him."

Badgerfang was a blushing, smiling mess. Swiftstorm looked back to his former Clanmates and bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I know I should've said something but I wasn't able to for so long, and I just got scared. I'm so sorry."

Swiftstorm felt tears fall down his face. He felt Badgerfang press against his side. The patched tom felt another cat push their nose into the fur on the back of his neck. He recognized Longtail's scent. Another cat pushed their face into his shoulder. It was Brightheart.

"Thank you, Swiftstorm. I'm afraid I might've been a bit too harsh though. You had your own reasons for not coming back. I should've tried to see things from your perspective but I was angry and I felt betrayed. I'm sorry too."

Swiftstorm picked his head up. And then he laughed. Longtail laughed too.

"I've missed you." The white and black tom said it so earnestly it caused Longtail to shed a few tears.

"Me too." The tabby tom whispered.

That's when the white and black tom remembered that Cloudtail was still there. The fluffy, white tom hadn't said a word since he saw his former Clanmate. The half-blind tom walked towards him.

"I'm sorry Cloudtail. I should've treated you better. I hope you can forgive me."

Cloudtail shook his head and bumped his head against Swiftstorms'. "It's fine. It's okay."

The two toms purred away their past anger towards one another. Cloudtail pulled away.

"Well It's nice knowing that you've been okay this whole time. I'd like to go see some of my other friends though. Bye guys."

And with that the pure white tom trotted away to a group of WindClan and RiverClan warriors. Swiftstorm turned back around so he was facing Longtail, Brightheart, and Badgerfang again.

"Brightheart, Longtail, It's been nice seeing you two again. Before we part ways, did Goldenflower come?"

Longtail shook his head. "No."

"We'll tell her to come next time! Firestar wouldn't object at all if she asked to come!" The ginger and white tabby added quickly.

Swiftstorm nodded. "Well, I hope to see you again at the next gathering."

The heavily scarred tom joined Badgerfang and the two padded close to the base of the Great Rock, knowing the gathering would start soon. His reunion with Longtail, Brightheart and Cloudtail, had lasted longer than expected. Swiftstorm's mate turned his head so the patched tom followed his gaze. Just then, a small pure white she-cat pushed herself through the crowd which got her next to Badgerfang. She padded forward until she stood in front of the two toms.

"Hey there." She said. "I don't think we've ever met. Not formally at least. I'm Whitetail, and I'm here to talk to you on behalf of my friend Gorsefire."

#wc #wc au #swiftpaw #badgerfang #longtail #brightheart #cloudtail #whitetail #gorsepaw #violence tw #blood tw

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girlbookwrm · 6 years ago

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i DO recommend these fics, but this ISN’T actually a rec list

a while ago i did a meta about Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier and Hydra and the headcanons I put in The Terror of Knowing, and I mentioned that I wanted to compile a long-ass list of fics that inspired The Hundred Year Playlist and ppl (hi @conlatio and @marveluc) asked about it SO HERE, AT LONG FUCKING LAST, IT IS.

Fanfiction, like every other art form that has ever existed in the history of ever, is all about synthesis: combining pre-existing elements to make something new. It’s the making something new thing that’s exciting. (If you’re not making something new with your found material, that’s called plaigiarism and it’s distinctly uncool.)

When I was in college and grad school, if we used material from other scholars to make a new idea, we made sure to include a bibliography.

Now this is fic, so like. Everyone knows that we’re using found material. We put the fandom in the tags and everything. But there’s a lot of unseen inspiration, because it’s harder to tag all the fics and metas you read that gave you ideas and inspiration along the way.

I’m... making an attempt.

These are some, SOME of the fics that inspired the headcanons and characterizations and whatnot that then got incorporated into THYP. I’ve been reading MCU fic since 2014 (possibly earlier) and I didn’t even start thinking about THYP until 2017, so there’s probably a lot of stuff that went into my subconscious that I’ve forgotten about. I’m @ing the authors and sources when I know them, but if any of yall want me to like, un-@you (is that a thing??) or if any of you know of authors who have tumblrs that I DIDN’T @ but should have, pls let me knoooowwww

A (Probably Incomplete, but at least Attempted) Fanfic Bibliography for The Hundred Year Playlist

by Seriously I Don’t Have More Important Things To Do? Astonishing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS IN THE FICS THEMSELVES. THYP may be rated T for Teen (and even that I debate about tbh, given all the swears and violence) but most of these fics are very emphatically not. some of them will probably squick you out, some of them might be triggering, so take care of yourselves.

I’ve divided the list into sections by the story they inspired, but all of these stories inspired all the parts of THYP, this is a very very very rough categorization. Think of it as my fanfic n headcanon spice rack. some stories are going to have more or less of one spice or another.

Dreamers With Empty Hands

All the Angels and the Saints by @cesperanza

"You're a brutal person, you know that? You're always rummaging through my guts with your bare hands!" and then Bucky turned away, his long, muscled back curving as he sat on the edge of the bed, hunched and struggling for breath. Steve wanted to draw him, and he also wanted to blot the image from his memory: this picture of Bucky in despair.

Speranza’s Socialist Steve is deeply flawed in a way that people don’t usually write him and i love it so much??? He’s angry, and egotistical, and righteous in a way that’s hard on the people around him and I was like YESGOOD MORE PLS. It’s also a masterful example of how to write a story that’s ostensibly Steve-POV but still manages to make Bucky not only a main player, but a driving force. It’s about Steve, on the surface, sure. But it’s also about Bucky, because Steve is about Bucky and I just *clenches fist* love it.

cascades.

This fic. THIS FIC. Hngh. Okay so this fic is good on so many levels, but for THYP, the takeaway was me very gently lifting the Bucky-Steve-Barnes Family dynamic and then adding more swears to get to my take on the Bucky-Steve-Barnes Family Dynamic. Namely:

“Steve was a bit of a Barnes, too, wasn’t he,” she says.

“He was ours,” says Rebecca, shrugging. “We were his.”

i crie???

More Man Than You

“You’re very pretty,” she said, and Steve tensed up.

“I’m not a fairy.”

“No, you’re not, are you?”

this fic has a study guide. and that’s literally all I feel I need to say about it. It’s an exploration of queer culture and masculinity in the 30s and 40s, thinly veiled as stucky fanfiction. (It’s also pretty brutal so I’ll reiterate that you need to heed the goddamn warnings)

Also, lest yall think I came up with Billy Thompson in a vacuum, I didn’t. In this fic, there’s a violent mob runner called Duke, and Steve comes up with a plan to take him down, and Bucky makes sure that there’s a Different plan that Steve doesn’t know about. It’s all executed a little differently in this fic, but the idea lodged in my brain and got reused in THYP, and kind of became a central theme.

Good Morning Heartache, What’s New?

The Night War by @praximeter

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THIS WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. This is... honestly, just one of the finest pieces of fiction i just

HNNNNGH

I don’t know that I can point to any specific part of this fic and say “this gave me that idea” it was more the... the feel of it. The way the Normandy invasion is written and the way the trauma is handled and the way Steve is just slightly to the left of being a real soldier and especially this:

He asked me with a smile on his face what goes through my mind when I line up my shot—God and country? Pearl Harbor? Uncle Sam? —and I stared at him struck dumb from the question so long that I think he thought I was just plain stupid. The fact is that it is none of those things—not even close. It is sick, numb fear and careful, barely breathing so that I don’t miss. I must never miss. And then when I shoot, an awful thought curls up from my trigger finger to my heart “how many mothers must be praying I will miss?”

The Thirteen Letters

oh you didn’t really think that Not Easily Conquered wasn’t going to be on this list, didja? OF COURSE IT’S ON THE LIST. But possibly not for the reason you might think. That fic is legen-fucking-dary of course, and the scene where Steve gets stabbed was obviously very inspirational for that bit in GMHWN where Steve gets shot in the thigh, but the scene that really got teeth into my brain and Would Not Let Go was the one where the Howlies meet the Winged Victory of Samothrace and

Bucky knows the truth now. It is a deep and insurmountable truth. She has no face. Like the operative whose head he beat in, like the boy who he killed one month into active duty, even like Bucky himself, Nike is faceless. Bucky feels unprepared, or like he should have brought an offering.

Beside him Steve quakes before the oldest and the only god.

look my fixation with statues didn’t come from nowhere is what i’m saying ok

Sincerely, Your Pal

This fic haunts me because i hate the ending. not because it’s not good (It IS good) or because it’s not the right ending for the story (it IS the right ending for the story) but just because i h a t e i t. I just like happy endings is all, and resolutions, and this fic is why THYP will have a happy ending.

But also, I really liked the way this fic dealt with Bucky in Basic and lines like this really caught in my brain:

And of course I want to kill some Nazis I guess but not because they’re people. Not because I actually want people to die because I don’t.

And that sentiment definitely fed into how I write Bucky especially.

The Terror of Knowing

there must have been a moment by @redstarwhitestar (magdaliny’s marvel sideblog)

Listen, I’ve been trying to make sure that there’s a good spread of writers on this list but magdaliny is the exception. Magdaliny is the exception for a lot of things and there must have been a moment when we could have said no is always the first fic I think of when I think of a fic about Bucky’s time as the Soldier. Which is ironic, because it’s very much about his time after that, but that first chapter made uhhhhhhhhhhh an impression.

The fractured nature of the narrative, the way that the reader can piece together a coherent timeline but the main character can’t... that was very influential on TTOK. example:

“Kill him,” the officer says.

The subject says: “Why?”

☙

“Kill him,” the officer says.

The subject makes a mess.

☙

“Kill him cleanly,” the officer says. “Good! Good lad.”

I’ll build a house inside of you

Another magdaliny G I F T, an AU where Nat is much younger and Bucky is her dad, and if you think that didn’t affect the way I write Bucky and Nat’s relationship in THYP, then you are dreaming.

Past the praises of the handlers, above the hot wet smell of cordite and blood, Natalia can hear crashing and shouting down the hall.

“—goddamn animals, they're little girls, they're just kids, you fucking—”

Her father screams in English, in Mandarin, in Russian, and then he just screams.

I know that’s a super sad excerpt but listen and hear me when I say this fic is actually really good and wholesome and it’s got A+++ OCs and All The Widows and it’s just really good ok

Memory

Bucky is hard AF to write and very few people write him half so well as magdaliny but one of those people is emilyenrose and this fic is M A S T E R F U L. Bittersweet and achingly perfect. It contains this beautiful moment that really stuck with me, where Steve is comparing the post WS “James” to the Pre War “Bucky” and realizes...

He truly hadn't known James all that well. James hadn't let him. Hadn't wanted him to. Hadn't wanted anyone near him, ever—

—the way Bucky went, when he was miserable, when he was angry...

and that, to me, was kind of key when I went on to write the Soldier, because the Soldier IS Bucky, even when he isn’t.

Fool For Sacrifice

Dona Nobis Pacem

THIS GODDAMN FIC came to me outta FUCKING NOWHERE, I’d already written the first draft for FFS, I’d already started posting it, for crying out loud. And then all of a sudden I stumble upon THIS and i just

It’s already fading, just hours after the skirmish. And the wounds Sam stitched will heal without a mark. And the welts on Steve’s chest will disappear. Like all of it never happened.

Fuck the serum. He keeps thinking it, saying it. Maybe if there were some goddamn scars, it’d be easier to process the damage.

This fic is heavy af, it’s like the 65k word version of That Chapter in FFS Where Steve Hits Rock Bottom. This was the fic I read when I was ramping myself up to tackle That Moment

three white horses

This is the other fic I read to ramp up for That Scene, and I think that probably shows in the way I wrote it. It is also is a Strong Contender for the title of Heavyweight Fic That Convinced Me Buck Is Jewish. Honestly I cannot praise this fic enough.

I think the thing that stuck hardest about the Steve in three white horses is the way he feels ghostly himself, like he’s only drifting through the present, and somehow most of his living happens in the past. It’s very beautifully done, and very subtly done, and it’s my go to fic if I am in Dire Need of a Good Clean Crie.

It’s getting an extra long excerpt because This Is My List And Neither God Nor Man Can Stop Me.

Steve's fingers touch metal when he reaches into the second-to-last box, and he feels the blood drain out of his face even before he's looked down. He knows the feel of it too well. He'd know it blind, a hundred years from now. It's Bucky's not-a-medal.

It'd been Bucky's grandfather's, or maybe his great-grandfather's, made of the kind of sterling silver that tarnishes if you look at it funny, so Bucky had always been polishing it; he'd traded cigarettes to the mess staff for baking soda and vinegar, during the war, but the thing was still soot-black half the time, like it is now. It'd been a fool's errand, wearing a thing like that in Axis territory, but Bucky'd worn it on his chain like the rest of the guys wore their Christophers and Michaels, and HYDRA'd ignored it. It was a subtle thing, though: nothing like wearing a Magen David, or the implacable H on Bucky's tags, just a thin slice of metal with a stylized branch and an oblique squiggle Steve only knows is the Hebrew word for life because Bucky told him so.

Bucky'd had a curious mix of reverence and irreverence about it, the same mixture that seemed to colour the whole of his religious life. He'd teased Steve sometimes, saying, “No, wait, you gotta kiss it before you enter the building, you schmuck, what are you, some kinda heathen?” with his legs around Steve's waist. Bucky hadn't complained when Steve had carried on with an inch of silver between his teeth, but Steve had offhandedly called it Bucky's good luck charm once, and Bucky'd blown up; it's not a superstition, he said, it's not a fucking amulet. He'd apologized later, and he'd explained, and said it was a touchy subject, just ingrained. Jews weren't supposed to believe in luck. Bucky'd thought maybe it was the opposite: maybe luck didn't believe in Jews.

Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches

AH YES, THE FIC THAT TAUGHT ME ABOUT LIL AUDREY JOKES. SIPPY CUPS OF SUPERBOOZE! A ROBOT CALLED SHITCAN!! WHAT MORE COULD YOU NEED IN A FIC??? I really like the way it addresses Steve being in the future is all

This one could probably also fall into the list of fics that inspired DWEH, in part because of This, which stuck with me Hard and heavily influenced the opening:

“...You ever have scarlet fever?"

Sam shakes his head.

"It starts in your throat, like an itch, and as your fever starts to climb, your tongue swells up and turns white and that's when they know, really, even before the rash, that it's scarlet fever. You can't swallow, it hurts so much. You're freezing and your joints ache and your fever keeps spiking and you start to hallucinate. I, uh, I thought things were crawling on me and there were voices that I didn't recognize whispering things that didn't make any sense. My mom had to fight me just to get me to drink broth, but I threw it up most of the time, anyway. Then I got pneumonia from being so worn down from the scarlet fever and I was so lucky, Sam. Nobody seems to understand how I lucky I was to make it through. Talking to people today, to make them understand I'd have to tell them I survived bird flu only to fall sick with Ebola."

listen. For reasons I can’t fully explain, I really wanted to read that happening so i wrote it, and this is what being a writer is All About.

Actually, on a second thought, I might be able to explain it: it’s because an experience like that is Capital F Formative, and I really wanted to explore how there’s a tiny sick kid rattling around inside Captain Beefcake’s souped up bod.

(And an additional shoutout to Steve Rogers’ American Captain, a webcomic that now exists only in the Wayback Machine, but which was L O V E L Y and I sincerely hope that the artist knows that)

No Hope for the Weary

Strays

This fic? is so fluffy?? Like literally so fluffy. But this fic (and, obviously, Infinite Coffee) were very much behind the inclusion of the God Damn Starbucks, and also the source of a lot of my headcanons about Barnes & Rogers: Secret Millennials. For Example: Bucky’s Notes on How To Be A Millennial:

- Lots of coffee. Travel mugs or paper cups from Starbucks place. Often looks guilty for drinking, obv derive pleasure from doing so. Unknown as to why. Investigate further? Why is there one every two blocks if no one wants it there?

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail

This is another fandom classic that needs very little introduction. A+ characterization, A+ OCs, Utterly Charming from start to finish, and the originator of a very distinct way of talking that got very strongly coded in my brain as Winter Soldier Bucky.

He passes within 4 m of Barnes on his way back to his building. The mission imperative achieves a Doppler effect.

contactContactCONTACTContactcontact

Aw.

If They Haven’t Learned Your Name by @silentwalrus1

If I had to point to one (1) fic and say “Blame This Fic for THYP” it would be this one: the Fic that my roommate and The Gal Pal know as “The One With the USS Motherfucker.” This might seem like an odd statement, because if you’ve read them both, I don’t think you’d necessarily put them in the same class. silentwalrus is a genius of hilarity and THYP is a big pile of The Sads. ITHLYN is delightfully unassuming and I’m sometimes embarrassed by how pretentious THYP ended up being.

I would technically put this under the list of fics that heavily influenced NHFTW on account of the way it portrays Bucky going by gradual degrees from murderbot to mostly human person, but listen I could never write Cryptid!Bucky the way Silentwalrus has. It’s magnificent. And TBH the level of Intensity in ITHLYN’s Steve has is something I aspire to, and the Sam Characterization is On Point, and both those things influenced FFS, 112%. Nat’s Chaotic Slav Energy in this fic is OFF THE GODDAMN CHARTS and I LOVE IT. Every single side character, down to the spaceship is given the kind of care, attention, and characterization that just... it cannot be beat, my dudes.

16/10 highest recommendation. I could not possibly pick a single paragraph from this behemoth but uhhhhh

Two minutes in there’s a grunt and a slippery, gritty noise somewhere to her left, and then the Soldier barrels past at breakneck speed, vanishing down another tunnel. A second later Steve careens around the corner, bounces off the opposite wall and crashes away after him, so fast he’s nearly a blur. Natasha’s brain, entirely of its own accord, provides her with the utterly unhelpful accompaniment of a Yakety Sax soundtrack.

that’s it. that’s the fic.

Also, this fic is Stoutly To Blame for the playlist aspect of the hundred year playlist? Silentwalrus really got me good with Grounds for Divorce by Elbow, one of my all time favorite songs, which was then paired with one of my all time favorite chapters. By the time Caravan Palace’s Lone Digger made an appearance, I was sunk. This fic introduced me to Lyube, and gave me a new appreciation(?) for dubstep. So many of the songs ITHLYN used ended up in my Very Long Stucky Playlist, though I think the only one that then went on to become part of the Hundred Year Playlist: Upside Down and Inside Out by OK GO.

And Finally, the Coup De What The Fuck Ever:

Ain’t No Grave by @spitandvinegar

yet another fandom classic... I wasn’t sure where to put this fic, but I couldn’t NOT include it in the list. Spitandvinegar’s Steve is charming and so? Sweet? and the ANG Bucky is a delightful foulmouthed mess of a person, and the Sam/Claire pairing is something I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED, BUT I VERY MUCH NEEDED IT and I don’t know that I can point to a single thing and be like: Ah Yes, This Bit, but this is definitely one of my faves:

Imagine you live in this country, right? And there's a brutal war, and you witness and maybe participate in a horrific amount of violence, and you lose absolutely everyone you care about. Then you end up in this other country, where the culture and ways of doing things are completely foreign to you, and random assholes make fun of you for how you dress and act and talk while you're still coming to grips with the fact that everyone you love is gone and you can never go home again. Meanwhile, everyone around you is like "smile, motherfucker, you're in the Land of Plenty now, where there's a Starbucks on every corner and 500 channels on TV. You should be grateful! Why aren't you acting more grateful?" So you have to pretend to be grateful while you're dying inside. Sound like an traumatized, orphaned refugee? Also sounds like Steve fucking Rogers, Captain Goddamn America. Except that most refugees were part of a community of other people who were going through the same thing. Steve is all alone, the last damn unicorn, if the last unicorn had horrible screaming nightmares about the time when it helped to liberate Buchenwald.

Usually this explanation yields a "huh." People don't want Sad Refugee Steve: they want Captain America, Indestructible Defender of Freedom. But that doesn't mean that Sam isn't right, because he is right, goddamnit. So yeah, Sam's a little protective of Steve. And if the last unicorn finds out that its best damn unicorn friend in the whole world is actually alive, then damn straight, Sam's heading out with a tranq gun and bringing that damn unicorn in and starting a goddamn unicorn wildlife refuge in his backyard. Or something like that: at a certain point the metaphor kind of gets away from him.

Til The End of the Timeline

I’ve recced this so many times you’ve probably all gotten sick of hearing about it, but it’s an invaluable goddamn resource and you should all check it out.

A Shit Ton of Metas and Blogs, some of which are tagged with THYP Research but especially @steve-rogers-new-york and @hansbekhart‘s How To Brooklyn and @historicallyaccuratesteve

and last but certainly not least

LITERALLY EVERYTHING @quietnighty READS HOLY SHIT

If you’re looking for a common thread through all the above recs, it’s that almost all of them have podfics, and the vast majority of those podfics are by Quietnight. I am, and always have been, an audio learner. I read my writing aloud when I’m editing, I listen to audiobooks when I’m commuting, and when I’m cleaning, and when I’m playing computer games, because I like stories, and I especially like listening to stories. Quietnight’s podfics are Of The Highest Quality, and her taste in fic is Impeccable.

hooooly shit this post is long wow okay. I can’t promise I won’t add more to this later, but I’m leaving it for now because goddamn. it’s as complete as I can make it at this time. I’ve added a “THYP Fanfic Bibliography” tag in my bookmarks, and incidentally I really need to make sure I’ve gone through and kudosed all of these because goddamn.

#i don't know how to tag this #thyp research #?#fic rec #??#stucky fic rec #???

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rainesclan · 6 years ago

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[Part Seven]: Little Lies

Link to: [Series Masterpost], [Part One], [Part Two], [Part Three], [Part Four], [Part Five] , [Part Six]

A/N: We’re halfway done with this fic! It’s bittersweet! As always tysm to everyone who’s been reading and especially to those of you who always haveme soft with your nice comments! It really means a lot! As per usual, there should be a read more. Sorry if Tumblr’s being fickle with it again!

Series Tag List (feel free to ask to be added!): @nathansterling @j-ashtons@nathan-sterling @nevrakissed @sterlingbitch @nathansblazer @ash-beaumont @guilty-giggler @pilitella

Description: Kaitlyn invites the Alphas over to the suite for a game of Truth or Truth, but things get a little too personal when Becca crashes the party with her own drinking game.

Words: 2,926 (I’m so sorry)

____

Busy fingers flew against the keys of her laptop as Cariedee attempted to condense everything she had been feeling in response to the week’s events within Vasquez’s six-page minimum requirement. The rest of the week may have gone by as seemingly normal as any other week, but a part of her knew she could feel a shift that was barely there, but present enough for her to perceive.

Beau had seemed...different. She was sure no one else had noticed it, as it was anything but obvious, but she could feel it when she had stopped by the clubhouse a few days after the bake sale fiasco to return a book she had borrowed from Nathan.

When she first crossed the threshold she could almost feel the tension when he looked at her before his expression melted into a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes and he greeted her with the same kindness he always had. For a split second, however, the mask had slipped. She figured that maybe it was just her paranoia, but another part of her wondered if Nathan had been careless enough to mention her by name when he spoke to Beau about the incident.

If that had been the case, she wasn’t sure what to expect in the upcoming weeks.

She only remembered that Kaitlyn had been lounging on the couch next to her scrolling through social media on her phone when she could feel her shift and allow her arm to hang over the cushions.

“Did you know Kassidy plays drums in a band?” She asked, her brown eyes peering over the top of her phone to look at Cariedee, who was so intently focused on putting the finishing touches on her final paragraph that she hadn’t looked up to meet her gaze.

“No. She never mentioned it,” she responded.

“Maybe she likes me better than you,” Kaitlyn teased, and Cariedee couldn’t help but roll her eyes playfully in response. “I guess we’ll find out when we all play Truth or Truth later.”

The name of the infamous game was what finally caught her full attention, and Cariedee finally closed her laptop and turned to look at her roommate full on.

“We are not playing Truth or Truth with the Alphas. They’re just coming over for drinks.”

“Suite rules state that in order to be fully initiated into our group of friends, you need to survive a game of Truth or Truth on the rooftop.”

“I’m pretty sure you just made that up right now.”

“Maybe so,” she shrugged playfully and gave her roommate’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Come on, Cariedee! It’ll be fun a fun way for everyone to get to know each other.”

Cariedee glanced back down at the closed laptop still resting in her lap. Maybe Kaitlyn was right. And even if it were to take an unexpected turn, she figured it would at least make for an interesting piece to write for Vasquez.

With slight hesitation, she finally straightened up her posture and set her laptop down on the coffee table.

“Fine,” she agreed with little reluctance. “But please just...don’t mention Chris.”

____

If Cariedee wasn’t positive that something was amiss between her and Beau before, the awkward inkling of tension she could feel as they settled in on the rooftop waiting for Kaitlyn to finish pouring drinks confirmed it. He had been uncharacteristically quiet since the Alphas had arrived at the suite, and – while she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of it – she could swear she caught him casting a less-than-friendly glance or two in her direction while she and Kassidy talked about her band.

She knew she had to get Nathan alone. It was the only way she would be able to ask what he could have said that would result in Beau being so pissed off at her. She briefly wondered if maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Nathan at all, but after their conversation during breakfast and Nathan confirming that he would talk to Beau about what had transpired at the bake sale, she had a feeling she knew exactly what it was.

“I’ve got the drinks!” Kaitlyn’s cheerful voice broke her near trance. “I present to all of you the finest wine available on a college student’s budget.”

When she handed Beau his drink he peered into the red solo cup warily before taking a sniff of the pungent deep red liquid.

“Is this botrytized?” He tried.

“If that means ‘cheapest bottle they had’ then yes,” Kaitlyn shrugged her shoulders and handed the last cup she could manage to carry over to Zack. “Sorry if it isn’t up to Alpha Theta Mu standards.”

“I don’t think this is up to anyone’s standards,” Zack commented with a wince. “It smells like someone put a shot of grape juice into a bottle of vinegar.”

“The wine’s fine, Kaitlyn,” Nathan assured her with a friendly smile. “Do you want me to get the rest of the cups for you?”

“No...that’s fine I-” she stopped and let her words trail off when she saw the look that Cariedee was shooting her way. “Actually...yeah...that’d be a big help.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cariedee eagerly volunteered, springing up from her seat on one of the couches.

This may have been her only chance to talk to him about the Beau situation – she figured – and she knew she needed to take the opportunity. As they made their way downstairs and into the kitchen, Nathan flashed her a playfully charming smile over his shoulder.

“I’m not sure how much help I’m going to need carrying two glasses of wine,” he told her. “Not that I’m objecting to the company.”

“I actually wanted to ask you something.”

He looked mildly surprised by the confession, and he paused and turned to face her before he could gather the last two cups resting on the counter.

“Ask away.”

“Did you say something to Beau? About me?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he studied the look on her face for a few long seconds before responding.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking,” he admitted.

“When you talked to Beau about...you know...” she paused and gestured vaguely with her hands. “You didn’t mention my name did you?”

“Not that I recall,” he responded. “Why?”

“You don’t think he’s been acting sort of weird around me?”

“If he is I haven’t noticed.”

She sighed, although it wasn’t particularly directed at him. In all honesty, she almost couldn’t tell whether it was a sigh of relief that Nathan hadn’t seemed to notice anything weird, or frustration with the fact that she couldn’t seem to get a straight answer. Either way, he elaborated before she could figure it out.

“If you feel like he’s being unpredictable I wouldn’t look too far into it,” he reassured her. “That’s just Beau.”

“Promise?” She asked. It was more of a formality than anything significant. She smiled when she realized and he smiled back, handing one of the two cups to her and wrapping his now free arm around her shoulder.

“Haven’t you realized by now that I wouldn’t even consider telling you anything that wasn’t laced with my most expert and sincere advice?”

She couldn’t help but laugh and roll her eyes playfully at the theatrics.

“How silly of me to question your motives,” she teased.

He smiled and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as they made their way back up to the rooftop. While they were still out of earshot of the rest of the group, he leaned down to whisper to her, his breath warm against her ear when he did.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me somehow.”

The blush that touched her cheeks was impossible to hide. She tried, however, as the two of them made their way back to the couches and waited for everyone to get settled in with their drinks.

A few more moments of mindless small talk passed before Kaitlyn finally stood up and dramatically cleared her throat to draw the group’s attention.

“I think what this situation calls for is a good, old-fashioned game of Truth or Truth,” she declared.

Zack and Abbie groaned audibly, clearly having not been aware of the night’s plans, while the three newcomers exchanged curious glances before looking back to her.

“What the hell is Truth or Truth?” Beau asked. “We’re more of a Two Truths and a Lie kind of crowd.”

“Truth or Truth is at least one hundred times better than Two Truths and a Lie,” Kaitlyn assured him. “It’s easy. It’s Truth or Dare without the dares. You can either tell the truth or you can drink.”

“Wait,” Beau held up his hand to stop everyone before they could start the game. “What if you lie?”

Kaitlyn seemed unprepared for the question, and she looked around at the rest of the group for silent advice before responding.

“I mean...that’s not really part of the game.”

“So nothing? No penalty shot? Just lie all you want?”

“For the love of God, Beau, can we just play the game?” Kassidy asked with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, fine,” he held up his hands in a playfully silent surrender. “Just know I’m an expert liar. Who knows if I’m actually telling the truth? Right, Cariedee?”

Cariedee blinked in surprise, and she could suddenly feel everyone’s eyes on her. When she looked over at Nathan, he looked almost as surprised by the comment as she knew she did.

Maybe – she thought – it was just a normal, playful comment. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially taking into consideration what Nathan had told her only a couple of minutes prior. She searched her mind for a playful response...something that would make it clear to everyone that she and Beau were just two friends having fun and teasing one another...but before she could think of anything appropriate for the situation, she found that she was distracted by the sound of someone else approaching the rooftop.

“What kind of second-rate drinking game is going on here?”

Though she didn’t hear it often, Cariedee could easily pick Becca’s condescending tone out of a crowd, and her body tensed up without warning at the sound of it. She looked over to find her standing next to one of the couches with Chris close behind.

“Although I guess the biggest shock of the night is seeing you three hanging out somewhere so...quaint,” she continued, gesturing vaguely towards Nathan, Beau, and Kassidy. When none of the three of them gave her the response she had clearly been searching for, she flopped down onto one of the couches next to Abbie. “What we should be doing is playing Never Have I Ever.”

“What the hell do you mean we?” Abbie asked, her eyes narrowing and her eyebrows creasing when she looked over at the blonde next to her. “Last I remember, no one invited you.”

“Chris invited me...obviously.”

“Last I remember no one invited Chris either.”

The silence that followed Abbie’s harsh statement hung awkwardly over the group, and Chris’s smile faltered just a little.

“Oh...” he stuttered, but quickly recovered. “We can go then.”

“No, no. Stay,” Beau insisted, flashing a look filled with disdain towards Becca. “I’d love to play Never Have I Ever with the Queen of the Kappas herself.”

Chris chuckled awkwardly when he took his seat next to Becca, and another tense silence fell over the rooftop. After what felt like an agonizingly long time, Zack finally cleared his throat and spoke in an attempt to break through it.

“Okay...how about I start?” He tried. No one responded. “Alright...cool. So...never have I ever...had blonde hair.”

Becca rolled her eyes and took a sip of the beer in her hand, and Nathan playfully tapped the top of his red solo cup against Cariedee’s with a smile before they both took a sip. Even with Nathan’s friendly gesture, however, the mood on the rooftop was still effectively dead. No one spoke. No one laughed or cracked a joke in response. Everyone simply waited for Kaitlyn to go next.

“Never have I ever,” Kaitlyn took a thoughtful pause, “been involved in Greek life.”

All three members of Alpha Theta Mu easily took a sip of their respective drinks. Becca, however, let out a long huff and spoke up in protest.

“It’s so obvious what you guys are doing,” she seethed. “How about it’s my turn then?”

“Actually it’s Kassidy’s-”

Becca ignored the protest and continued.

“Never have I ever had a huge unrequited crush on a Hartfeld quarterback. Drink up, Cariedee.”

“I’m not drinking to that because it’s not true,” Cariedee scoffed in response.

“Then how about these?” She tried again. “Never have I ever walked around with coffee stains on my clothes. Or never have I ever hooked up with two of the guys sitting with us on this rooftop within the span of two weeks.”

A splash of wine and the sound of cheap plastic against the ground stopped her before she could continue, and everyone’s head turned to look at Cariedee when they noticed that she had tossed her still full cup of wine onto the ground in front of her and stood up abruptly.

“Screw this. I’m done playing,,” she declared, ignoring the red heat that crept up her neck as she stormed away.

Her hands trembled as she made her way back down into the suite, and she blinked back hot tears of frustration. She knew it was stupid to allow Becca to get under her skin like that, but she couldn’t control it. If her getting angry about being humiliated not only in front of Nathan, but in front of all of their friends, meant that Becca had won, then she would resentfully give her the victory.

With a frustrated sigh, she went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She clicked the lock into place, leaning against the sink and leaning forward to look at her own reflection. Why the hell did Becca hate her so much?

“Hey,” The familiar voice was followed by a soft knock on the door. “It’s Nathan.”

She hesitated, but ultimately decided to unlock it, opening the door just enough to see his face. He smiled weakly and almost apologetically, but somehow she could still feel the warmth behind it.

“That was certainly an interesting turn of events,” he tried.

With a sigh, she opened the door enough to let him in before quickly closing it behind them.

“I wish I could say ‘I can explain’ about what Becca said up there,” Cariedee started with a sigh. “But I can’t. It really was just a stupid...” she paused and shook her head. “It was before you and I met and...I just don’t want this to mess anything up because I like you...and I know there’s something here...with us I mean...”

She let her voice trail off, and she could feel her chest tighten in response to her own confession. It hadn’t been her intention to say nearly everything she had been feeling for the past three or so weeks, but it was too late to retract.

“Cariedee,” he chuckled, and his hands were cold against her skin when they brushed against her arms. “I don’t care what happened between you and Chris.”

“You don’t?”

“Not in the slightest. We’ve all had our share of regrettable hookups,” he laughed lightly, and she cracked a smile as well.

“Plus we’re not even a couple,” she tried.

“That too,” he paused and smiled fondly at her. “Although...perhaps I wouldn’t mind us changing that someday. Believe it or not I like you too.”

An unmistakable pink flushed his cheeks after the words came spilling out, and she laughed gently.

“Maybe we could just start with a kiss and see where things go from there,” she suggested.

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he just smiled again, cupped her cheeks between his chilled hands, and lowered his lips to hers. The soft sigh she let out against his lips was an audible release of everything she had been feeling – relief, comfort, longing – and she shivered when his hands moved to her waist to pull her closer.

His lips parted from hers just briefly. She was sure their absence would have had hers feeling cold had his whispered words not touched them just a second later.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” he confessed.

She laughed softly and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her fingers run through his soft blonde hair.

“Less talking, more kissing,” she teased.

Their lips reconnected in a searing kiss. An outpouring of every pent up feeling. But before things could escalate, a knock on the door pulled them both out of the moment.

“Hey...Cariedee...Becca left. Can we talk?”

Chris’s voice caused her stomach to drop, and she untangled herself from Nathan in order to open the door.

“Cari–oh,” Chris stopped short when he saw that she wasn’t alone behind the bathroom door. She was sure he could tell by her kiss-swollen lips and tousled hair that they weren’t having a simple, friendly conversation either...especially when she could see his expression drop just slightly. “Sorry. I was...just gonna get going anyway.”

“You said you wanted to talk,” she reminded him warily.

“It’s fine. It...” he paused and glanced at Nathan again. “It doesn’t matter.”

#nathan x mc #nathan sterling #long post #something like this fic #something like this part 7 #can y'all believe i was afraid i wasn't gonna finish and wrote an entire feature length film instead?#i know you guys said you don't mind long parts but...still #this part got away from me i'm sorry dfjefllk

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teehjayy · 7 years ago

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You Should’ve Known

Pairing: T’Challa x Reader, T’Challa x Nakia

Words: 1.5k+

Request: Since you want something depressing... how about T’Challa cheating on his s/o 👀

Warnings: None really, but Anon, I did take the liberty of changing the request so to speak because in this house we love and cherish T’Challa who is not a cheater 😂😂 So it’s not cheating, more like... just read it. I’m sorry this came late, though.

A/N: Assignments have really been kicking my ass, I don’t even remember the last time I got some decent sleep fam. Don’t pursue a higher education kids. i’m kidding. Kinda.

I cried real ass tears today when I realized only one person is going to marry this fine man. I cried these tears for you bitches.

You were standing alone, your back leaning against the door. The only thing that was separating you from the love of your live who was no doubt having a very personal, very intimate conversation with someone who would never be you.

You could always barge in, effectively stopping them from having the talk they both so deserved. You could. But you couldn't. Not to them, even if deep down all you could feel was pain. Even if it all seemed unfair.

You sucked in a shaky breath, biting your lip to stop you from crying out loud. You blinked back tears.

You lifted your head up to stare at the intricate designs on the ceiling, nostalgia washing over you, engulfing you in a warm embrace similar to the one you were sure the two people on the opposite side of the door were engaged in.

The memory of your first unforgettable meeting came to mind. Sure, you had met him countless of times when he would come down to the lab, and you had often exchanged the odd hello and a smile here and there, but definitely nothing to write home about. No, you hadn't really noticed him, never really looked at him all those times.

It had been a regular day for you, finishing work late as usual. It was cold, and you pulled your coat tighter as you took a shortcut through the gardens to get home quicker.

You had nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him. He, who looked so utterly defeated and miserable, with his head burried in his hands, had captured your attention. You should've known that anyone who could make depair look beautiful was nothing but trouble.

But like a moth attracted to the flame, your feet carried you over to where he sat. To where you would eventually burn.

You sat beside him wordlessly. He didn't move, didn't show any sign that he acknowledged the new presence beside him. You wondered what might have happened for your future king to be in such a state.

After a while, you stood up. He hadn't moved an inch since you sat down almost ten minutes ago and you still needed to get home. You fished through your bag for the can of iced coffee you'd bought earlier. You hated the stuff, but you'd forgotten your lunch that morning.

You left it right where you had sat, hoping that it could at least, for a moment, help ease his pain a little. And that maybe he would realize that someone had once sat with him, sympathizing with him in her own little way.

An upwards curve tugged at your lips. It was a precious memory, albeit a sad one. You should've known in that moment that it was impossible to take the place of someone who had managed to reside in his mind like that. That entertaining the thought of replacing the person who had such a hold on his heart was foolish.

You had forced yourself to move on, telling yourself that you couldn't save everyone, definitely not the prince and definitely not with this. You had heard through the grapevine that Nakia had chosen her career over him. There was nothing much you could do without seeming like a meddler.

But as he stepped into the lab a few days later, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, you couldn't help but want to play the hero.

He stood a few ways off, idly examining the new inventions on the table as he waited for Shuri to arrive.

And like before, you found yourself approaching him, with no clue what to say or do. You placed the can of iced coffee in your hand in front of him and turned around. You had just made it three feet when you felt a hand on your wrist.

You looked at him and he offered you a genuine smile and a mumbled thanks. One word and you were hooked, starved for more. You shrugged, doing your best to appear nonchalant, before heading back to your station, all the while wondering if he knew you left the coffee earlier too.

He began to pop up more, you noticed, and your pleasantries had progressed to actual conversations, and you were certainly getting closer, so much so that Shuri would often joke that if you married her brother, she'd have to fire you as business with family was dangerous territory.

You would both laugh, brushing it off as you went back to work. That would never happen.

One afternoon, as you and T'Challa went for a walk, you passed by the gardens. He whispered a thank you, and noticing your confusion, pointed at the bench. You smiled. He knew. He'd always known.

That was the day you'd shared your first kiss, the start of your relationship.

He was everything and more. Always arrived on time, planned for things but was always open for spontaneity. After every date, he would take you home and plant a kiss on each of your cheeks, promising to see you the next day.

Perhaps it had been too good to be true.

After a while, you began to notice that his mind often wandered. He would be with you physically, but mentally, he was checked out. In that moment, something or someone had his full attention, and it was never you.

When you would ask him about it, ask him to share his problems with you, he would pull you into a hug, kissing your forehead before telling you it was nothing to worry about.

You voiced your disappointment at the fact that he didn't trust you, despite how long you'd been together. He laughed lightly at that, pulling your closer. He kissed your worries away that night, and you, deeply in love, willingly let them go.

Months passed, and you and T'Challa were back to normal. You were holding hands, laughing and bickering good-naturedly as you walked through the halls. As you lifted your eyes up to him, you truly believed that nothing could sully that moment. You should've known better.

Because the moment he laid his eyes on the woman who bumped into you, he stopped laughing. His hand froze in yours.

Nakia was back.

Her eyes shifted from him to your intertwined fingers. When your eyes met, you saw the pain and hurt much like how T'Challa's looked to you a year ago.

When they locked gazes, it was as if the world stopped. Nothing else mattered. You didn't matter. They were right in front of you but also a million miles away at the same time.

"Kumkani, Y/N." she greeted, tersely. And just like that, it was over. She walked away. Everything seemed to be a blur as you and T'Challa took a few steps forward before you hastily told him you had to go home.

He didn't stop you, didn't call out for you.

You did your best to avoid both T'Challa and Nakia for the next few days. Luck clearly wasn't on your side one fateful afternoon as they both found themselves in the lab.

You could feel the emotions radiating off the both of them, and you looked to Shuri for support. She merely shrugged apologetically, before turning to one of her assistants to continue their invention.

T'Challa squeezed your hand as he surveyed some of Shuri's new work. When Nakia approached the two of you, he deliberately ignored her, choosing to head to the furthest side of the room; when she whispered his name, saying it like no one else could, he faltered, pausing momentarily, before shaking his head, and making himself scarce.

You couldn't bring yourself to be happy, knowing that he was doing this because of you. That was when you knew you had to put a stop to this. To knock some sense into a few skulls.

You pulled him aside a week later after dinner, giving him a speech you were already regretting.

"If you still love her, let her know. If she's the one that got away, don't lose her twice."

He pulled you into one of his hugs, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"There's no way-"

"T'Challa, don't. You only get one shot at that kind of love." you almost couldn't believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. You cupped his cheek and caressed it. He held your other hand and squeezed it.

You could see him debating with himself, before he thanked you and went off to find her.

You watched as he led her out of the dining area and down the hall, onto the balcony, closing the doors behind them. The doors you were currently leaning on.

Sighing, your head falls against the door again, those bittersweet memories swaying in your mind. Some would think you an idiot, freely letting the man you love walk away, without so much as a fight. But you thought of it as your way of letting go of what was never really yours to begin with.

You take a deep breath, before pushing yourself off the wood, taking one step away from it, away from them.

You can't stop the sob that escapes you. The tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you take more and more steps away from it all.

You should've known never to choose someone whose mind was always preoccupied with thoughts of someone else.

You could now fully empathize with him, could now truly understand what T'Challa felt that day you found him in the gardens.

The was no way you could have saved him, you finally realized, and there was no saving you. Sorrow and time were the only true healers here.

It was inevitable.

Especially if you were up against someone you could never beat.

Because between you and his first love, there was no competition.

You should've known.

Taglist: @myrikal324, @cjphoenix135, @brianabreeze, @idilly, @raveennn

I couldn’t tag some of y’all coz Tumblr’s a real bitch, sorry.

#black panther #black panther fics #t'challa x reader #reader x t'challa #nakia x t'challa #t'challa fanfiction

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 7 years ago

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Reflections on Writing a Longfic

hey guys! I wanted to make this for a bit, because I thought it would be cathartic. Also I started school again and my teacher is very much into reflections, which I always was an advocate for too, so I thought I would write this! tagging @cathybrokeit and @novamm66 for their interest as well :) Note this really isn’t a “writing advice post,” more so my reflection on how I wrote my fic In Waking Dreams to completion, but if you learn something from it...great! :)

Anwyay, unto the breach! Also there will be spoilers for IWD, but the story is pretty much Inquisition with my own imaginings in the gaps. But if you want to read IWD spoiler free, I recommend not reading this!

Background

So I have spoken at length about this before, but I never wrote fanfic until In Waking Dreams. I read it, but never really felt compelled to write it. I wrote original fiction before, even finished a first draft for about three or so different pieces, and the last thing I wrote before IWD (besides a ten minute play) was something I was very, very much in love with, and still am very much in love with. I finished the first draft of that my freshman year of college, but when I tried to revise it, the words didn’t seem pretty or “perfect enough.” I could not make it the story I wanted to see. It didn’t just frustrate me. It made me deeply depressed. I worried I wouldn’t be able to write again.

I did a lot of gaming in college because I honestly couldn’t really do anything else (I had trouble connecting with my theatre peers. I was not a partier and my department liked to party.) I lived alone, so I played a lot of games. In 2014 Inquisition came out and I played it because DA had always been one of my favorites. I romanced Cullen, and the romance really resonated with me. It’s why I played it a lot.

Then my last semester of college, I realized I was really (forgive my crassness,) turned on by the idea of writing a fic with Cullen and my Inquisitor.

I’ll be honest: at first I thought it was ludicrous. I was twenty two at the time. I never wrote fic. I told my friend once that while i respected it and enjoyed a lot of it, it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t imagine writing a character that wasn’t mine. But I loved Cullen because he and his romance were a comfort to me. I loved his arc and I wanted to fill in the gaps. My directing teacher always told us to direct what turns us on...not what what leaves us with blue balls. I suspect writing is the same way. Hell, I know it is the same way. I couldn’t escape the fact I was turned on.

So I began. It felt so strange to write the first chapter, but it wasn’t strange anymore, after a while. the words, they flowed from the page. I was upset when I wasn’t writing. I felt like myself again when I was. I was so happy to write this story. It was so bittersweet to finish.

I don’t know how I did it, in all honesty. but I am going to attempt to tell you how, and analyze it.

Getting started

I had a grand idea before I began: I would write the whole story, edit it, then publish. I started November 2016 before I graduated college in December. Graduating was so great because it gave me more writing time. (lol.) Made the A03 and officially joined by late December, because I heard it may take a while to get an invite. By May 2017 I was sort of almost done with the first draft, (I got to after the Winter Palace and Perseverance, and I believe Cullen and Lydia had just consummated their relationship.) So I began going back to the beginning and editing, and I decided i was going to start publishing. for exposure, I renamed my tumblr to my a03 name, but I decided eventually to start from scratch. Here we are now.

I am not going to lie, I got to the destruction of Haven part, uploaded it, and got no response. I was really, really disappointed. I thought: did I do this for nothing? My mom noticed I was upset, and in a moment of weakness I told her everything. Let me tell you, IRL me is very, very secretive of my writing. No one knows about my original work except for one other person. But I told my mom, and she asked me:

“Are you having fun?”

I told her yes. She asked me if I believed in my story. I told her yes. She told me to remember that. So for the entire journey I remembered that I believed. I believed and I loved, and that was part of the reason why I finished. People began reading and commenting. One comment made me so, so happy. they always do, to this day. they truly do help.

I knew it before, but I fully learned it then: write what turns you on. write what you want to see. You’ll love, and that love can help you continue

From the Draft to A03

So here’s a few fun facts about IWD

Stroud was the original Warden, not Miranda

Originally there was passages in Cassandra’s POV, as well as Solas. did away with this because I can not write Solas and i didn’t think the cassandra parts added anything.

there was going to be a lot of leliana/ Cullen tension I cut back on. there was also a lot of leli/ Lydia tension.

I wanted to focus on Inqusition as a whole, rather than the romance of cullen and Lydia. (HA)

Cullen’s ex girlfriend Elaine wasn’t going to make an appearance, but Asher always was.

The timeline as it currently is is way different from my original intention. to Adamant everything would be normal, then there would be the ball that happens at Skyhold, then perseverance and Lydia and Cullen getting together, then the Winter Palace and Cullen and Lydia’s first intimate moment by Honnleath, and then Daddy Trevelyan arrives. (remembering now, the only thing I hadn’t written was the return of Asher.)

I reassembled a lot of stuff as I wrote. Daddy trev arrived earlier because I wanted him at the ball at Skyhold, the ball happened a lot later, and as I wrote I inserted the Elaine subplot.

No beta readers, but I would consider one in the future.

There’s a lot of other stuff I added in and expanded as I started uploading. The original Lydia and Cullen blow up over his past wasn’t nearly as dramatic. Miranda was added and fleshed out, as was Hawke. Eventually I realized i would have to scrape what I had previously written (for an example the first kiss is radically different.) and start from scratch. Was I frustrated? Kinda sorta. See, I truly believe had I not written that incomplete first draft, I would not have been as happy with IWD as it currently stands. Trust me, I understand wanting to upload chapters after you write them and after a cursory read through and edit. I have done this. I will still do this, ha. But I truly think without that base of IWD, I wouldn’t have been nearly as happy with my story. especiallly since it is very very complicated.

Another note: I tended to think of novels like movies, but one thing that really , really helped me was thinking of the story more like a TV show. Episodes or chapters should compliment the whole, but if you want a whole chapter of your OTP laying in bed...you can do that. In fact, I encourage it in fanfic if you want it. that’s the beauty of it. We can write entire scenes of our favorite characters eating ice cream, a scene that would probably be cut out in a major motion picture or even published book for “slowing the pace.” No need in fic. Sure maybe some things can be trimmed, ( I really wish I would have cut the Elaine subplot at least a smidge) but I learned that the true beauty in my story, and what I was really passionate about, was the moments between Cullen and Lydia.

So eventually I gave up thinking this was an epic novelization of DAI, and embraced it for the romance. I added more little moments.

Long story short: original intentions may change. threads may go elsewhere than the original intent. that’s okay. Characters may surprise you. that is wonderful, because don’t people in real life surprise you? Lydia surprised me. A lot. I knew this before I think, but I know it for sure now: let your characters surprise you. I didn’t truly know Lydia till I continued to write her.I didn’t think she would “want to hurt Cullen” as she says, but as soon as I wrote it: I knew. She would be so hurt she would want to hurt him back.

Support

I finished this with a lot of my fire, but I did have support, which helped a lot as well. I was fortunate to get a few frequent commentors as I wrote. Bless you, every one. @lyriumyue was one such reader. She made comments and observations that I didn’t know about as I was writing, but when she pointed them out, I could totally see it. So I came to her when I was stuck, and she helped me figure stuff out.

My mom also supported me. I didn’t tell her everything, but when I wasn’t sure if I wanted Cullen and Lydia to kiss, we talked through it, and she said, “let them kiss.” being stuck is normal, but talking it out helps. Heck even writing it down may help. I did that too. When I doubt, I talked it out.

Final thoughts

So...here’s the truth about writing, as far as I’m concerned: it’s like falling in love. Something captures you, and you want, need to write it. then there’s the honeymoon phase. After a while, it becomes work and you have to put in effort when you didn’t have to before. but remembering what caught you can reignite that passion. It did for me, when I was bummed out about no comments. Sometimes though, it didn’t. it took a while for a new fire. It came back when someone commented. sometimes it came back because I really, really missed cullen and lydia.

I can’t tell you how I finished. I just know that writing gave me immense happiness. Perhaps you should not fall in love with your characters, but fall I did. I wanted to see them happy in the end, watching the dawn. that made me continue. It made me finish. I don’t know what to say, other than I wanted to see this through so, so much. So I did. And i think remembering why I began....helped a lot. So did support.

Like I said, this is my reflection. I wish I had more advice, but truthfully the only thing I can say is write with passion and believe. Love what you’re doing. I didn’t always love my words. in fact I learned sometimes you just gotta convey information, but sometimes i would write one line, that just really...it was like soaring. other times, no lie I fucking hated it. I still hate that winter palace chapter, TBH.

but I believed and I wanted, in the end. I fell in love. So I did. Above all, I implore everyone to believe. Trust me guys, to anyone who wants to write anything: I believe. You can do it. I wish I had something more profound to say, but that’s what I got. And I truly do believe.

Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting. I’ll still be here. Writing Cullen, and falling in love.

-Cheyenne (Shakes)

#TY! :)#reflective shit #feel free to ignore #like I said this is just my experience not really advice #more like a motivational thing?#please don't get mad if you disagree #feel free not to read #was going to write my shakespeare paper #ah well #long post #cut isnt workibg #*working

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ilegnangeli · 4 years ago

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Random May Thought #1

I think I may have forgotten how to properly write an entry on Tumblr. Much features have changed since I last posted here. If it weren’t for Instagram’s connect to Tumblr feature, I wouldn’t have updated this blog in years. Last I posted was a picture of my penmanship in Mandarin. I was still a student in China back then. And well now, I am back to the mothership.

Two years ago, COVID-19 didn’t exist. Oh wait, it did, they just hadn’t named it yet or they haven’t discovered it yet (I actually remember they used to call it nCoV). Two years ago, I was still lying in my bed in my spacious dorm room probably wondering why time flew so fast. Two years ago, I was a completely different person. I had plans two years later, you know. Plans that got soiled. I didn’t think I would still be here. I should be experiencing spring elsewhere and yet I’m basking in the scorching heat of summer in the Republic of the Philippines. Not that I’m complaining. Alright, fine, I am.

Life has been pretty tough lately. I think I wrote the same thing in one of my book reviews in Goodreads. After reading that book by Paul Kalanithi, I became more aware of how finite life is. I’ve always loved books that sorta ended in tragedies (maybe it’s the masochist in me lmao). But reading a memoir of someone who suffered a similar fate to those fictional characters I’ve read before, reading through his personal struggle made me think about how life—at the end of it all—is truly fragile.

I also read through my old entries in here. I laughed at some. I smiled at some. I sorta became sad after reading some entries. But I’m glad I wrote. Now, I’m feeling like continuing this thing I do often when I’m overwhelmed by life: writing. There’s a sense of bittersweetness to reading your old diary or journal entries for the world to see. Two nights ago, I dug through my old notebooks and read some of my written entries in there. Ten, nine, eight years ago versions of me who loved writing and sharing her thoughts on pages of now worn-out notebooks. Again, I’m glad I wrote.

Writing is probably something I’m not really best at but I’m good at. And suffice to say, I enjoy it. I love writing and it’s probably going to be the end of me. Funny how going back home, here in the mountains of Rizal, transforms me into a sentimental freak. The life in the city is probably the most ideal, future-focused lifestyle but the old soul in me will always go back and try to rekindle the sad and happy memories of the past.

Right now, I’m sat at the end of my bed. With a laptop. Typing these random thoughts. I see my piano on the left. I see my bookshelves right in front of me. And I see my luggage, to my right, that I haven’t used since I got back from China (I didn’t use this for my trip to Japan, I used a smaller one lmao).

I leafed through the pages of my old planner. It was the planner I used for my final year in university. I saw this “Dream Board” that I ever so creatively put together using cutouts from magazines, stickers, and sticky notes. I wrote there that I would make films, music, and literature. Funny how those “dreams” became reality. One by one. I also remember listing down the places I’d always wanted to visit in that planner. I remember writing all the countries that I would, one day, visit. And by some weird miracle, I’ve ticked off so many of those places. Well, except Amsterdam (because damn, the Netherlands is so far away). But don’t worry self, we’ll get there. Eventually. Lmao.

My dream board was extended to the next page where I listed down so many things that I would save up for. Teenage me would be proud of herself because ten years later, she has owned that John Green book collection (she now even has at least three versions of each book John Green has published, I know that’s ridiculous but please stop judging me lol), she has also owned two MacBooks (an Air in 2015 and a Pro in 2020), she has bought a digital piano (God, I srsly am in love with this piano, teenage me would cry out of joy I swear), and she has travelled to a lot of her dream destinations and countries. Teenage me would be so proud of who she has become. I seriously sighed as I typed that last line.

Ten years. Feels like an entire lifetime ago. I didn’t think life would be this fast-paced. I mean, thanks technology but boohoo because here I am, somehow struggling, asking myself every single day, hour, minute why adulting has to be this difficult. I sorta blame my teenage self because, she wished for this moment. She wished to fast-forward to my yuppy self. But then again, who am I to complain, THAT WAS ME ten years ago. Bitch, you did not. Lmao.

Earlier this afternoon, it’s nighttime as I type this, I spoke with one of my co-workers. We haven’t known each other that very long. But it feels like we’ve known each other forever. She’s a Libra, just like me. She’s a 92-liner, too. Oh the joy! And she’s a psych major, I envy her. Sometimes I still wonder why I didn’t take that path in university. Accountancy was shit and as much as I loved my Sintang Paaralan, I just didn’t want to be there anymore for personal reasons. You’d know, if you ever met me in person, I’ll tell you. Wow, am I really that good at moving on? Anyway, being a communication major is and was a great experience. I hate competitions but I joined so many competitions in that field and lost some but you gotta win some, right? So I did. Thank you for the wonderful experiences, Piyu.

Whoa, I didn’t think I’d be writing this long. But I’m not done yet. So as I was saying, I spoke with her. She isn’t just a colleague to me now but more like a best friend. I never thought I would meet someone my age who spoke the same language as me before her. I’m a nerd. If that isn’t already obvious. And if being caught by our director talking about Sigmund Freud and Maria Montessori isn’t enough proof, then I guess let’s talk about global warming, greenhouse effect, and the melting polar caps. I like talking about ideas, phenomenas, and books. Crucify me! #ReasonsWhyImStillSingle

I’d been praying about something recently. And I only got that clarity when I finally spoke to her about it. We’ve been on this topic for about a month now. And occasionally we like to make fun of this topic. But I guess, when something isn’t really meant for you, God will make a way for it to not, you know, find its way to you. Thank you, LORD.

She told me so many things that made me realize that the person I like right now probably has his reasons why he’s not making the first move. And I understood that. She insisted that my feelings were valid and it was okay for me to feel those things—to think those things. But oh my goodness, I told her, this person is so lucky. Like I swear to God. Because I don’t really “like” guys that often. I don’t feel easily attracted to anyone. So it is by some miracle that I ended up liking this particular human sub-specie (bro, you should feel privileged, too bad you won’t be able to read this). Anyway, It was so clear to me. And I had to move on. Immediately. But what’s weird about it is that I just took a nap. And when I woke up from that nap this afternoon I felt nothing. Like that feeling expired almost immediately. It completely dissipated. So ridiculous, right? I’ve harbored feelings for this person for some time now (it hasn’t been that long to be honest) and I’m just over that feeling now. In an instant, too. I don’t know why. It’s probably one of my talents.

Wow, I really do move on fast. Don’t I? Am I cruel (to myself) that way?

So I had decided to busy myself with work. Plan about my graduate studies. And hope for the best. But for now, I’ll enjoy the rest of my leave from work. I sighed. Again. As I wrote that. My head hurts. I don’t know why. But it does. And I almost typed that in Korean.

On another topic, I’m thinking about compiling all of my literary works in some way. I also feel like commissioning my niece and my older brother to illustrate some of my poems for me. I’ve actually thought about this like a year ago amidst the pandemic. But the lazy ass in me just kept postponing. And I blame myself for procrastinating because all my “plans” haven’t come to fruition. But I’ll get my shit together. Eventually. I need to make this happen. At least before I expire. Lmao.

P.S. I’m tired. I actually stayed up late last night. Or should I say earlier this morning. I video called one of my ex-colleagues. It was also a really nice chat. But I’m not used to staying up late anymore. I’ve burned tons of midnight oil in university. NEVER AGAIN. I’m sleepy to be honest.

P.P.S. Tomorrow’s my elder sister’s birthday. I’m going to post ancient pictures of her on my stories.

#random thoughts #About God's Chaser #May the 5th #2021

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unfolded73 · 7 years ago

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This Graceful Path (19/19)

Wow, what a bittersweet day, to be posting the last chapter of this fic. Thanks to everyone who read along - your tags and comments were so gratifying!

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex); more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one canon and one not. (You’re already past them.) Sexual content in this chapter!

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thank you to @pompeiiablaze for the wonderful art which accompanies Chapters 3, 9, and 16. Thanks to the CSBB mods ( @sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 19

Emma moved the last of the stack of file folders from her desk to the banker’s box, putting the lid on top.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she said, hefting the box into her arms to carry it to storage. “The Gold murder case, closed due to lack of evidence.”

David snorted. “Lack of evidence?”

“Well, it was either that or write down that he was killed with a magical dagger which turned to dust when a big evil cloud was confined to Pandora’s box. I know this town isn’t on the map, but just in case somehow the state of Maine ever discovers we exist, I’d rather not have that in writing. Or the fact that the killer wasn’t in his right mind due to a magical curse.”

“Fair enough.”

Emma carried the box into a storage room and put on as high a shelf as she could reach, standing on her tip-toes. “Goodbye, Dark One,” she murmured, turning off the lights and closing the door.

“Speaking of the big evil cloud,” David said as she came back, “how is our resident pirate captain?”

Emma grimaced. “Avoiding me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Guilt? Self-loathing? Take your pick.” She plopped down in a chair across from David’s desk. “I thought I’d gotten through to him the other morning, but then he fell asleep, and since then he’s not returning my calls or texts. Ruby said he stopped by for takeout yesterday, though, so I know he’s not dead.”

“Fell asleep?” David asked in with an affected nonchalance. “So you two are back to…”

Emma groaned. “We just slept, not that it’s any of your business.”

He looked suitably chastened.

The door to the station opened. “Hello!” Mary Margaret called. “Lunch is served!” She came in bearing a picnic basket.

“You really didn’t have to do this, Mom.”

Mary Margaret waved her hand. “Nonsense. I’ve got the day off from school, and my two favorite people need to eat.” She started unpacking several plastic containers onto David’s desk as he dutifully moved his paperwork out of the way to accommodate her.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Emma said after they’d eaten a small fraction of the food Mary Margaret had brought, which was enough to feed the proverbial army.

“Of course, sweetie,” Mary Margaret responded.

“After the sleeping curse was broken, when you knew it was true love between you… what did that mean, exactly? Like, did Dad automatically propose, just because some weird exploding rainbow wind thing said you were meant to be?”

David grinned, looking at Mary Margaret with that look he got sometimes. “I mean, it wasn’t long after that I proposed. But I already knew I loved her, so I didn’t need true love’s kiss to tell me that I’d met the love of my life.”

“Yeah, I felt the same way,” Mary Margaret said with a smile, leaning over and kissing her father.

“And you didn’t feel pressured to, I don’t know, live up to destiny? And what about now? Do you think it means you’ll always be compatible? Do you think you’re divorce-proof?”

“Emma, where’s all this coming from?” Mary Margaret asked, and then her expression shifted. “It wasn’t the spell.”

“What?” David asked.

“You didn’t get the darkness out of Killian with a spell. I should have known; Regina isn’t really the type to minimize her own accomplishments. You kissed Killian and it broke the curse. That’s why you’re asking all these questions about true love. Oh, Emma—”

Emma shot up out of her chair, uncomfortable. “Don’t, I can’t… I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“But why not?” Mary Margaret asked. “It’s exciting! True love—”

“With a pirate—”

“Oh, big deal, this isn’t the Enchanted Forest, David. And they might have fallen in love while he was cursed — doubly cursed, actually — but now all the curses are broken and they’re free to be together.” Her beaming smile almost made Emma smile in return.

Fallen in love, Emma thought. She hadn’t imagined those words applied to herself since she was a teenager. She wasn’t even sure she knew what being in love was supposed to feel like.

Her father sighed heavily. “Go find him. Get him to talk to you. I can handle things here for the rest of the day.” He began helping Mary Margaret to pack up the leftovers of their lunch. “But for the record, I’m still not sure I approve of this.”

Emma grabbed her coat. “Thanks, Dad.”

She found Killian in his apartment again, although this time he wasn’t drinking; he was cleaning: mopping the kitchen floor, to be precise. “This place got into quite a state over the last few months,” he explained as he led her into the apartment. He looked much healthier than he had… well, ever, or at least for as long as she’d known him.

“If you say so.” She stood nervously next to him, her hands shoved in her pockets. “I’m sorry to show up uninvited; I was trying to give you the space you needed, but—”

“No, I’m glad you came over.” His cheeks were tinged with pink. “I’ve almost called you half a hundred times over the last few days.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Cowardice.” He indicated that she should sit down, and the two of them faced each other across the expanse of his sofa. “The more time that went by, the more I realized how badly I wanted to see you. And the more I wanted to see you, the more I began to convince myself that you had probably decided that the last thing you needed in your life was an old pirate like me.”

“Do you know what I thought of you before the curse was broken?” she asked.

“I shudder to think.”

“I thought you drank too much, for one.”

“True, and I intend to work on that.”

“I thought you were easy to talk to, at least once I got to know you, and that you were a kind person who seemed to genuinely care about my son,” she went on. “And I thought you were really hot.”

He laughed. “Well, that last part’s true. And it’s true that I care for Henry. The rest…”

“Now I know that you’re someone else, that you’re… Captain Hook, which is crazy, but no crazier than my parents being Snow White and Prince Charming. You’ve got an ugly past, but you’re also still the same kind, easy-to-talk-to person who I like spending time with. Aren’t you?”

His expression was filled with longing. “I hope that I am.”

“Then can we start there and move forward? Forget what’s in the past, forget this true love thing because it’s way too much pressure for me, and just… be together and see what happens?” She looked down at her hands, which she rubbed restlessly against her jeans. “I’m not like my parents; I’m not someone who can leap in with both feet. I’ve got too many scars for that. But I can be here. With you. That’s what I can do.”

He moved closer to her on the sofa, ducking his head to catch her glance and draw it upward. “When I remembered who I was, one of the first things I felt was an overwhelming guilt for forgetting Milah. It was losing her, the first real love of my life, that drove me for so long. I always assumed it would drive me forever. I assumed that love wasn’t in the cards for me, not anymore. When I realized that I had allowed myself to develop feelings for you, I wanted to deny it. I wanted to pretend that it was all because of the curse. And the darkness inside me fed that belief. Now I know it did that because it knew that together, we were capable of destroying the darkness forever.

“But I would see you, and even with the darkness whispering in my ear, even with all my denials that I could never love again, I knew deep down that it wasn’t true. That my feelings for you were real. That I did… that I do love you, Emma.

“I still don’t think that I’m worthy of you. I don’t think I deserve you. But I want to redeem myself. I want to try to make up for the bad things I’ve done and be worthy of your regard. Of your love. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even my revenge against Rumpelstiltskin. I don’t care about destiny or true love, I don’t need any of that. I just need you, Emma Swan.”

She launched herself toward him across the remaining gap between them on the sofa, capturing his mouth and hoping that her acceptance of his words was communicated by her kiss. She’d spent so much of her life alone, always betrayed by those who claimed to care for her. But then Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke, and since then her life had been filled with people who stayed and who didn’t abandon her: her parents, her son, her friends, and this man. So Emma closed her eyes, and in her imagination she jumped, hoping this time for a graceful path to the ground.

Killian pulled her onto his lap and she went willingly, slinging a leg over his and sinking down, their lips meeting over and over, his tongue devastating as it explored her mouth. She felt his arms wrap around her, his hand and hook pressing on her back, and then just as suddenly he let go with his left arm, his body jerking slightly under hers. Emma looked at him, confused, as he rested his hook on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean to…” He lifted his hook. “Touch you with this.”

Emma contemplated it, reaching over and grasping the hook and bringing his arm between them. “It’s been a part of you for a long, long time, hasn’t it?”

“Aye, much longer than I had a hand there,” he said softly, his voice raspy. “But if it bothers you—”

“It doesn’t.” She traced the shape of it with a finger. “It’s pretty. It’s kind of sexy, actually.”

Killian raised his eyebrow, a grin blooming over his features. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “There are other prosthetics you may want to look into, this being the modern world and all, some of which might be more functional. I can help you. But if you want to stick with the hook, that’s fine with me.” She pressed her lips to it, making his breath hitch.

He sat forward suddenly, kissing her hard, his hand weaving into her hair while she continued to hold his other arm between them. “So should I leave it on in bed, then?” he asked seductively.

She could have responded in the same teasing tone, but it was important that she make him understand something. “Sometimes, sure; I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t find that hot.” She squirmed a little bit at even the thought of the smooth metal against her skin. “But I wasn’t afraid of what’s underneath before, and I’m still not. Okay?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay.”

“Speaking of bed,” Emma said as she kissed him again, “we should go there. Now.”

“Gods, yes,” he muttered, and she wasn’t sure if two people had ever moved (or undressed) so quickly before.

“Next time,” he said as he unbuckled one of the straps that held his brace on. “I don’t want anything separating my skin from yours right now.”

Emma nodded as she unfastened her bra. She really couldn’t have agreed more.

The sheets were crisp and clean, changed as part of his efforts to tidy up his apartment, she imagined. They got into bed, facing each other on their sides, filled with anticipation as they studied each other’s faces. Killian rested his hand on her hip, and Emma reached down and turned his arm over, tracing her fingers up and down his tattoo.

“I’m sorry that you must see another woman’s name on my arm, love.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t care about that.”

He frowned. “You don’t?”

“She was a hugely important part of who you are, or you wouldn’t have mourned her for so long.” Just as she had with the hook, she brought his arm to her mouth and kissed the red heart of the tattoo. “Besides, I’ll always see the dagger here and remember that we defeated the Dark One, together.”

Killian closed the gap between their bodies, pressing against her with chest and legs and hips as he kissed her again. They writhed against each other for several long minutes, his mouth wet and seeking purchase on her neck and shoulder. Emma scraped her nails through his wiry chest hair, delighting in the way it made him groan and rut his hips against her, his erection rubbing against her skin as he sought any kind of friction. It suddenly hit her how long it had been since the one night they had been together, and how desperately she wanted him.

She was so keyed up that when Killian finally touched her between her legs, she thought she might come on the spot. He seemed content to stroke her slowly, spreading her wetness over her sensitive flesh, but she felt like if he didn’t get inside her soon, she might die.

So she told him so.

“I don’t think you’ll die, Swan,” he teased, his fingers maintaining a steady rhythm that had her trembling with how good it felt.

“I will,” she said, her eyes squeezing shut.

He chuckled, and she decided it was time to turn the tables. Pushing on his shoulder, she forced him onto his back. With a smirk of her own, she rose up on her hands and knees, nosing through his chest hair and down the trail of hair in the center of his stomach as she made her way toward his cock. She drew the tip of him into her mouth, swirling around with her tongue and listening with satisfaction to his choked gasps. Opening wide, she lowered herself and took him deep.

“Emma, gods,” he groaned as she set up a rhythm. “Please, love… I can’t…”

She released him with an obscene, wet pop. “What?”

Killian levered himself up, shifting to sit back against the headboard of the bed. He took her hand and to pull her toward him, and Emma detoured to grab a condom from his bedside drawer before straddling his legs. She rolled the condom on before sliding forward, gripping his shoulders and grinding against him. “This what you wanted?” she asked.

He swore under his breath, his control fraying. “Let me… I need…”

She was just as desperate and didn’t waste any more time raising up on her knees and taking him inside on a slow slide. His arms folded around her, his hand clutching at her back as she started to move, a slow roll of her hips that allowed him to slide out the barest inch before burying himself fully in her again. Their kisses were sloppy, his mouth wide open and tongue lapping as they moved in shallow thrusts together. The position wasn’t giving Emma what she needed to come, but she didn’t mind, wanting to prolong the experience and enjoying the way they could hold each other close. His mouth moved down her neck to her collarbone, teeth dragging against skin, as Emma kissed the beads of sweat from his forehead. Their earlier desperation dissolved into something more tender as they explored each other with hands and lips, small movements where they were still joined keeping their arousal on a slow burn in the background.

Finally, he rolled her onto her back, a move with some amount of finesse, but not enough for him to stay inside her. Killian hovered over her, his hand gripping her thigh and pulling it over his hip to spread her open so he could slide into her again, both of them groaning at the sensation. His thrusts were long and deep now, speeding up as the flames between them suddenly flared higher. Every push inside brought his pelvis where she needed it, every drag out eliciting sparks of sensation radiating through her body. She was on the edge again in no time, her fingernails scraping against his skin as she cried out, not holding anything back. Her pleasure peaked and he fucked her through it, everything bright and pulsing and perfect. Opening her eyes in time to see his orgasm hit, she watched the way he gritted his teeth and tightened every muscle, his voice a raspy, pained groan.

Emma lay splayed out on the bed, her chest heaving as Killian got up to throw away the condom. She drifted, floating on a sea of happy contentment until he returned, moving her arm out of the way to make room for himself next to her in the bed.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” she mumbled. “I’ll be worthless the rest of the day.”

His fingers trailed down between her breasts, palm settling on her belly with a warm, comforting weight. “What would you like to do then, love? I’m at your service.”

She grinned at that. “Maybe go for a walk on the beach?”

He hummed, leaning over to kiss her. “That sounds lovely.”

“Then have sex again?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

With a chuckle, he nodded. “Then I can make us some dinner.”

“And we can watch some TV?”

“Or just go back to bed,” he murmured, his nose brushing against her cheek.

“Yeah, or that.” She was still smiling; couldn’t stop smiling if she tried. “Sounds perfect.”

“Aye, love. Perfect.”

~*~

“Now,” Killian said once the small sailboat was untethered. “Henry and I are going to man the sails; your job will be to steer.”

Emma looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know how to steer.”

“You can do it, Mom!” Henry said cheerfully, his eyes bright with excitement, his hair tousled by the wind.

“It’s easy,” Kilian said, tapping his hook on the handle of the rudder. “This is the rudder. Sit right there,” he said, and directed her to grab the handle. “Hold it straight like that, unless I tell you to turn to port or starboard.”

“And that is?”

“Port is left, starboard is right,” Henry told her, clearly proud to show off his knowledge.

“Why don’t you just say left and right, then?” she grumbled.

There was enough breeze to get a good wind under his sails, and Killian was able to take them out far enough into the bay that Storybrooke felt distant; unimportant, even. The wind was cool enough to bring spots of color to Emma’s cheeks, but not so cold that any of them were uncomfortable. The sun was high in the sky, making the water sparkle like jewels.

Every day, Killian thought of Rumpelstiltskin. As much as Emma seemed to have accepted that Rumpelstiltskin’s death was the price they had to pay to defeat the darkness, Killian knew that what had been in his heart that day wasn’t any kind of noble cause — it was revenge. Maybe he would have killed the man if he’d been in his right mind and maybe he wouldn’t have, and the fact that he didn’t know the answer haunted him. What he did know was that he still had a long way to go before he’d truly redeemed himself for what he’d done. For now, though, he allowed himself to feel a small measure of peace and freedom. The burden of his quest for redemption would still be there when they returned to shore.

Once they were far enough out, he dropped the sails and secured them, guiding Henry and letting him do some of the work under close supervision. With the boat now bobbing in the water, he went over to sit next to Emma. “You can relax, love,” he said, prying her fingers off the rudder and interlacing them with his own.

Emma smiled, her shoulders lowering. “Sorry; I don’t have any experience with boats.” She looked around, turning her face up to the sun and closing her eyes. “It’s nice out here, though. Peaceful.”

“Exactly my thoughts. I figured you would probably enjoy some peace and quiet after the last few days.”

She hummed, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “Yeah.” Emma had finally found an apartment, not too far from his own, and she and Henry had been quite busy in the evening unpacking boxes and shopping for essentials that she hadn’t needed while living with her parents. Between that and her duties as Sheriff and her magic lessons with Regina, she’d been busy, to say the least. And he had to admit, as much as he genuinely loved spending time with Emma’s son, he was also looking forward to his upcoming week with Regina, when he and Emma could properly christen her new bed.

Henry dashed from one side of the sailboat to the other, pointing out a dolphin fin in the distance or a pelican gliding overhead while he and Emma sat, holding hands and soaking in the calm as small waves lapping against the side of the craft. Killian focused on the way Emma’s fingers felt in between his own, his thumb absently stroking the soft skin on the top of her hand.

With a deep sigh, Emma picked her head up, turning to look at him. “Thank you for this. Really.”

Killian leaned over, kissing her softly on the lips. “It’s my pleasure, love.”

“Eww, you promised you wouldn’t do that,” Henry called.

“I’m a pirate, lad; I’m a scurvy dog with no honor,” Killian responded as Emma laughed.

“Come on, you scurvy dogs,” she said, placing a smacking kiss on Killian’s cheek. “We should probably get back so we can have some dinner.”

“Can I steer on the way back?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Of course you can.” He raised the mainsail, instructing Emma how to tie it off, his hook trailing up and down the thin material of her shirt as he did so. She shivered, giving him a look that said she would get him back for his teasing later. He grinned wickedly back at her as if to say, I’m looking forward to it.

He turned the sail to catch the wind and the boat picked up speed, skimming across the water, carrying them toward the shore. Toward home.

END

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs smut #this graceful path fic #my fic

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fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 7 years ago

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Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 5 Relief

***Look at this adorable MM gif of Cerise by our official artist and her creator - tumblr's @chaoticstarblossoms~~ Isn't it precious????? No hidden scenes this week, just...*maybe there's a kiss, maybe there isn't*. I just hope Vandy makes up for what he did last chapter. Bad vandy, bad.GO #CHERRYWOOD ~Let's Connect! FFC

Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Tagged Chapter Directory***

Cerise wasn’t sure how much time had passed of her staring at the ceiling, when she thought she heard her name from beyond the door. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, walking over to the door, putting her ear to it. Yeah…he was definitely there. “What do you want, Vanderjerk?” Vanderwood made a soft snort at the name.

Even angry, she was the same adorable woman. He was standing there, the door unlocked, but hoping that she would be the one to open it, even though he wouldn’t blame her for not doing so. “I want…to apologize. What I did…I can explain it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Vanderwood clenched and unclenched his right hand, noting the way that his scars rippled with the motion. “Will you at least let me explain…I guess the explanation doesn’t really matter, because either way I was out of line, but…I’d still like you to know.”

Would she even want to hear it? Vanderwood was having an internal dilemma still. Was he really about to tell her about his past? Yeah…he needed to if he was going to explain what had happened. He just didn’t want her to think it was an excuse. Damn. It was just confusing, and he felt awful on many levels.

She stood there for a moment, contemplating on whether or not she wanted to let him in. At least he realized what he did was shitty and not okay. With a sigh, she unlocked her side of the door and opened it. Cerise would at least let him explain himself, even though she was pretty sure it would just turn into some lecture about how she didn’t know how to handle herself, and he wanted to prove that to her. Without a word, she turned to go and sit on the edge of her bed, grabbing a pillow to hold onto while she prepared to listen to him.

Vanderwood was beyond relieved that she’d opened the door, but his stress wasn’t over yet. He opted for sitting on the floor, not wanting to loom over her. Really, he felt much lighter, but now it was time for a long story, one that might make her dislike him more. At least then he wouldn’t be in some delusional state that things could work between them. “So…guess I’ll start from the beginning…” Her eyes had followed his figure as he moved to sit on the floor. She hugged her pillow tighter when he began to talk, ready to hear whatever dumb excuse he had for acting the way he had towards her.

He sighed, tracing the scars on his hand absentmindedly as he talked. “My father was a drug lord, and my mother…After my mother had my younger brother she got hooked on heroine and left to live with my aunt. Caleb, my brother…” The smallest of smiles crossed his face but it was so bittersweet. “He was a little shit…I raised him for the most part, even though we were only five years apart.” Okay, now time for the real pain. How did a person even brace themselves for that?

His tracing of his scars became more erratic, stopping and starting in strange little starts. Cerise noted the way his fingertip was rubbing over his right hand, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. He was giving her essentially his life story, and she was just trying to figure out how that fit in to the lecture. If he was going to gripe at her, he might as well get it over with already, but she sat patiently.

“When I was eighteen, I moved out, brought Caleb with me. I did some street fighting for money. After a while, he started staying over at his friends’ houses, but he knew he was always welcome at my place. He’d come sometimes, but I didn’t realize…I didn’t realize that he was on heroine.” His voice felt choked, a lump in his throat that was becoming difficult to talk past as memories and images flit through his head. “He…OD’ed in my bathroom at fifteen.” Now he paused, holding up his hand to show her the white gouges. “These scars…I kinda destroyed my living room window. Just to feel something…anything…other than the numbness, the anger, the guilt…” Only now did she really see the crisscrossing white lines, how some were deep and others raised. Somehow Cerise had ended up at the very edge of her bed, hanging on to every word of his story.

Alright, so, he’d gotten to the part that finally related to her. Vanderwood looked up to meet her gaze, her honey-gold eyes beautiful as ever, but gauging her reaction to what he was saying. “I went between feeling nothing and being angry…all the time. So, I just kind of…wandered around, doing street fights. Then I met a hooker at a bar. Sex…made me feel something, so I got addicted to it. I went to parties, messed around with as many women as I could. None of it meant anything to me except the euphoria of the high.” Cerise’s face seemed to be filled with shock, maybe something else too, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. “A while later, I tried to pick up an expensive escort, and she turned out to be an undercover agent. She’s the one who recruited me.”

Vanderwood paused to take a breath, rubbing the back of his head for a little while before continuing. “So…they got me under control for the most part. The agency really cleaned me up, but…any time I’m angry or tense, sometimes I just need that fix.” Cerise was just staring open-mouthed now. It explained why he was so rough around the edges. He’d been through so much, and he was still rather young.

She had always lived a rather privileged and cushy life, so she couldn’t even imagine what he’d gone through between losing his brother and dealing with an addiction. The explanation he was giving her was so much different than the one she’d conjured in her head, and she had been totally unprepared. Cerise had gone into this expecting to argue with him, but he was really throwing her for a loop now. There was no way she could claim to understand completely, but she was glad he was sharing this with her…despite the circumstances behind it.

It took Vanderwood a while to realize that she wasn’t about to start talking, and then he realized he hadn’t even truly apologized yet, just told the story. The relief of the weight of that story having been taken off him had gotten him rather confused. Vanderwood bit his tongue and took a breath before he continued. “I was so angry at myself for letting you out on your own, potentially putting you in danger…Cerise, I was panicking. I can’t think straight around you. You’re the only woman in my life who’s ever made me genuinely feel something. I was scared. I was angry. I needed an outlet. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was all my fault.” The words were coming now, much quicker than he was meaning, just falling like he had no control.

“The way you make me feel about you…I can’t think straight, but I know you don’t deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve to be loved…be held at night and handled with gentleness. What I did to you, it makes me sick to think that I did that to someone I love.” Well shit…Love had just slipped out, but he couldn’t take it back now. He watched as Cerise’s grip on her pillow loosened, really staring at him with eyes wide now, lips slightly parted. This man…loved her? Is that what he had just said? She made him feel something? This tall, perpetually irritated, brooding guy? Her words were caught in her throat. Cerise wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, but she wasn’t mad anymore. She couldn’t be mad after all of that.

Okay so…she wasn’t saying anything still. Wasn’t turning him away, wasn’t fighting him. Cerise had genuinely listened, and even seemed to…maybe feel for him? The way she was staring at him, well it only made him babble on further. “You’re beautiful, you’re irritating, you’re hilarious, and absolutely adorable when you’re excited. Around you, my heart stops, then it skips…More than anything, I wish I could love you like you deserve…kiss you, hold you…the right way…” What the Hell was he doing? He should have left it as it was, but he was a complete mess around her.

Vanderwood was floundering. How could he fix this? He sure as Hell couldn’t let her just respond to all of that. “But…please don’t say you love me back. If you do, I won’t be able to go back. I’ve already put you in so much danger in the short time I’ve known you…but if you keep letting me be around you, spend time with you…I might not be able to leave you after this is all over.”

Cerise just…the way he was talking had her heart fluttering despite a heavy feeling on her chest. Did she love him? She’d only met him a week ago. She stared at him, her honey-gold eyes trying to search for an answer to her own feelings. Cerise couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him, that she probably had somewhat of a crush…but was it love? What she did know was that despite his demeanor, she did like for him to be around…even poked at his nerves to get a rise out of him, so his attention would be on her. Nobody had ever said they felt that way about her before, not genuinely. Cerise knew that she had never been this confused in her entire life, either.

He really felt he looked pathetic, sitting there on the floor of her hotel room, spilling his feelings and then trying to push her away again. Hell, he was fucking insane. This was the best way. She deserved the honesty, and she’d know why she couldn’t be around him. “But I do want to make it up to you…so just tell me what I can do.” Finally, something normal to say.

Before she could really even realize what she was doing, Cerise lowered herself to the floor in front of him, embracing the much larger man. “…You can stay. Please stay…” She knew that was probably the opposite of what he had wanted to hear, but she couldn’t help herself…not after everything he had told her. At first, Vanderwood tensed up, wanting to run away even as his heart did that now familiar backflip, but he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her as well. Cerise wanted him to stay? “I…don’t think I should…but I will.” He felt like he wanted to kiss her, but strangely it wasn’t like when he’d pressed her against the wall. Vanderwood didn’t understand himself. “Cerise…I think you should let go…”

What even was his life right now? His face was flushed, and it felt like little strings were connecting him to her even more so than before. It really wasn’t a good idea to hold her like this, and yet, he didn’t want to let go. For Cerise, the feeling she had when he said that he would say was indescribable, it felt like she had been holding her breath and had just been able to breathe again. She felt comforted and right sitting there with his arms wrapped around her. As soon as he suggested that she let go of him, her response to that was to only hold him tighter. “Don’t wanna…”

She was so obstinate, and his heart was just a goner at this point. Vanderwood closed his eyes and turned his face towards her, nuzzling into her hair. Cerise smelled like heaven. He held her closer, mumbling softly. “I want to kiss you…” His face filled harshly with red. “Not…like before. I just want to….kiss you, the right way. So really…you should let go.” Why could he never make his words work when he was with her? Even at that, kissing her again, without it being a part of his addiction, that wasn’t a particularly good idea with how attached he already was to her.

Cerise was lost in her own head. He wanted to kiss her again…the right way? What even was the right way to kiss someone? Certainly not what he did before. Her mind was screaming at her, but she pulled away and let go anyways, looking up and into his eyes. “…So, you plan to give me a proper first kiss this time?” She was blushing madly. Why couldn’t she learn to not talk? Her lack of filter was going to be the end of her one day.

They were both flustered now. “Is that a yes?” That just made the blush on her face grow, her heart pounding in her ears. Vanderwood was thinking her eyes were so beautiful, and he couldn’t look away from her. He slid his hand along her cheek, leaning forward, their lips so close they were nearly brushing. What was he doing? He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. “It doesn’t count as a first kiss unless you kiss back anyway…” His heart was doing acrobatics in his chest, and his breath stilled, his voice low and barely above a whisper. Everything in him wanted to kiss her, but he wouldn’t until he had her answer.

Cerise felt like her heart was going to escape her chest with how hard it was beating. He was so close to her again, and it felt so different from before. The way he had slid his hand along her cheek, the way his thumb brushed over her bottom lip, it gave her butterflies in her stomach. It was such a bizarre but not unwelcomed feeling for her. She finally nodded, just a small motion, not trusting her dumb mouth not to say something stupid again.

Vanderwood pressed his lips to hers then, holding her to him by the hand on her cheek and wrapping his other arm around her again. He was taking his time, being slow, gentle, in a way he never had before. This felt right. This was what she deserved, and this was what he wanted. Everything in him felt so alive. Could he ever let her go now. Damn it, he wanted to be with her forever, but he would do everything in his power to protect her and keep her safe. She was the only thing, the only person he needed right now. There was no pain, he needed no cigarettes, no sex, just this kiss.

For Cerise, it just felt so different. She had zero experience to call upon, so she literally had no idea what she was doing or how she was supposed to feel, but the feeling she had as he kissed her gently was nothing short of amazing. What was she supposed to do with her hands? It felt most natural to let them wrap around his torso, so that’s what she did. She had watched people kiss so many times in person or on TV, but never imagined that it would feel this good or this right. She was sure her response to him gave away her blatant inexperience. Cerise talked a big game, but in reality, she had no clue. All she could really do was go with the flow and do what felt right.

She seemed so unsure of herself, which initially made him worry, but Cerise was kissing him back and had wrapped her arms around him once more. Vanderwood slid his hand from her cheek into her hair, forcing himself to keep things from going further, and he found it…surprisingly easy to do. But he couldn’t keep kissing her forever, as much as he wanted to. He didn’t think she was ready for anything more than this simple chaste kiss, so he pulled back and rested his head against hers. “Think I’m forgiven?” Even after he pulled away from her, the fluttery feeling was still there, and she knew she was still probably super red. “…For now. Vanderjerk.” She laughed a little at her own joke, happy she hadn’t completely shut down.

Cerise enjoyed this proximity. She had never gotten this close to anyone before, and it felt nice. Vanderwood thought it had been a really bad idea to kiss her. There was no way he wanted to let her return to her normal life without him. That wasn’t something he could prevent, though, not without massive potential consequences. And yet…Vanderwood didn’t give a shit…He would gladly face those consequences if it meant staying with Cerise. As long as they would go over him and not her. “I don’t think I could ever leave you now…” His voice came out much softer and quiet than he was used to. Was he scaring her? Probably…but he’d decided to be honest with her, so that’s what he was doing.

Her heart was beating faster again. “…Who said I wanted you to?” At this point, she was undeniably attached to this man, in such a short amount of time. Was that how it was supposed to happen? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t complaining. Vanderwood snorted softly, stroking her hair. Was that a normal thing to do? Her blush was so adorable. He kissed her again, soft and slow, though he broke away a little quicker that time as he couldn’t help but graze his tongue along her lower lip.

The second kiss that came was unexpected and sent her into a small daze. He was so gentle and nothing like she had expected, and what did he do there at the end, oh God. It was a pleasant surprise for her though, and the thought of someone who was as rough around the edges as him being gentle and affectionate made her heart melt. She was definitely smitten. There’d been crushes before that had led nowhere, but nothing like this.

His heart was going haywire, and even just a kiss like that felt better than anything he’d ever experienced. But he didn’t want to go too far with her. “I guess you’re stuck with me…And I will take you out somewhere tomorrow. I’ll…teach you something first, but…then we can go wherever you want.” Cerise shifted so she could hug him again, enjoying the warm tingly feeling it gave her. “Guess so, lucky you, huh?” She teased and nuzzled into him slightly. “Teach me something, though? Like what? Neat secret agent stuff?”

“Something like that…yeah.” He tightened his arms around her. What he was going to teach her was for all intents and purposes something she should never have had to learn, but if he was going to keep her safe, it was imperative that she knew how, just in case – especially now. Vanderwood wasn’t exactly sure what the status of their relationship was right now, but any sort of relationship with him meant hurting her would be more fun for Drawl.

It was so strange to him, holding her like this, feeling how warm she was in his arms, and the way they were so comfortably chatting now. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, awkwardly, unsure of what was normal or okay. “I am most definitely a lucky man…” They sat like that for a while before he gave her a kiss goodnight and went back to bed, staring at the ceiling for a while, thinking of her with a warm feeling in his chest.

Cerise had enjoyed being there with him so much that she almost hadn’t wanted him to go. That night after he had left, she had trouble going to sleep. She just couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened that day…about him. Cerise brought her hands up to her lips for a second time that day, a blush spreading over her features as she recalled the feeling. Cerise tried to play around with her phone, but not even that could distract her from all the thoughts whirling around in her head. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy, but eventually it did.

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Tagged Chapter Directory

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daisy-chain-gardens · 7 years ago

Photo

(HUGE thanks to @leaalda for making this cute banner for me)

Here it is, the review feature that I said I would start up. I’ve started writing long reviews on some of my favourite fics on AO3 and I figured I would start a feature so I can help promote these incredible fics as well.

The first fic I’m going to review is: Fade Into Me (I'll Fade Into You) by @elegantmoonchild

This fic is absolutely incredible. I read it all in one sitting and then spent about twenty minutes afterwards trying to figure out what just happened and gushing over it with @wonderrful. Basically what I’m saying is you should go and read it RIGHT NOW because wow. Since I binge read it I forgot to comment as I went but to make up for that I left a massive (it took up three whole comment boxes on AO3) comment on chapter 5. Below the cut is the review I left so it is targeted at the incredible author

Warning: MAJOR spoilers under the cut

I just binged this fic and loved it so much, even though you did send me on a complete emotional roller coaster. I forgot to comment as I went so instead I'm going to leave a massive ( and I mean massive) comment on this chapter because, for obvious reasons, it really stuck with me. I want to start off by saying that this story is truly something special. As a reader, it's so obvious that you really love this story and it means something special to you because the way you write is gorgeous. Every sentence seems to be carefully thought out and this story a dream to read. I literally spent about ten minutes just gushing over this story with my friend on Tumblr because your writing left that much of an impact. Before I make myself look like a complete idiot and trip over my feet, let's get into the actual comment.

Archie, ever the goofball, would play around with JB, filling her with loud, raucous laughter, and Jughead would sit on the couch, Betty curled under his arm – the entire scene feeling a little more Hallmark than any of them could ever realize. Ok, so I remember reading this line and thinking how sweet it was for them to be able to find little pockets of happiness in such a dark time. Now that I've finished the story, I realise just how clever you were to slip that line in. I can't find the exact line but I remember something about them being 'the picture of grief' when they were at Jellybean's funeral (I think). My mind automatically jumped back to the line above, the whole idea of being a picture of happiness contrasting the picture of grief. This isn't the first time in this comment and it certainly won't be the last but, once again, hats off to your writing because it's the little things like that that truly make an incredible story.

Betty watched as the girl continued to stroke the sheepdog’s thick fur, lost in her own world of pure and simple joy. One thing that I love about this story (and there are a lot) is how you've written Jellybean's character and then how you've introduced her to us. It's nice getting to meet her in small moments through Betty's eyes. It makes the story flow really well and feel a lot more natural than it would if you tried to create a solid character before the story started. It's the little moments like this part with the dog that made me fall in love with JB. It also helped me fall in love with the way you've written Betty. Even just by a simple sentence like this I can feel the love that Betty has for other people and the true empathy she possesses.

She could feel him tense with nerves, overwhelmed by the sight of his sister entrenched in utter happiness for the first time in days. Your Jughead is freaking amazing. He's so caring and protective of Jellybean but then you've also written him as something more than just JB's big brother/father. He's got a true personality and, like I said before, the way we uncover it is so seamless in the story it really makes me feel like I'm watching it all unfold before my eyes. The characters are so raw and human that t makes it impossibly easy to get sucked into the story.

Jughead leaned over to one of the couch arms, leaving a space in between his legs for Betty. When she was finished tidying up, she crawled into the space, pulling the covers up over them both. Obviously, I love Betty and Jughead together and I think that they way you've written their relationship is something really special that we don't see every often in this fandom. There seems to be a complete level of trust and understanding between the two of them (at this point at least) which isn't necessarily shown through big romantic gestures but subconsciously fed to the reader through small moments like this. It's makes the relationship seem really real and not like something impossible and unattainable we're always fed through the media.

Her concerns about Jellybean had also grown, advancing into a territory she worried JB wouldn’t be able to get herself out of. She could see it in Dr. Klempner’s eyes every time she rounded on Jellybean, could read between the lines of her progress reports when she sat with Jughead at each visit to explain JB’s status. This is another thing I love about this fic, the fact that we get an idea of what's going on at moments like this due to Betty's job but then we're also kept in the dark like Jughead. It's a fine line but you've managed to balance it well. Also, this is just another example of those moments where we get a sense of Jughead and Betty's relationship getting a bit more serious, even though you haven't said it outright. The fact that Betty and the doctor are in the room at the same time with Jug (I don't know if this is normal or not) gives us the sense that Betty is there more and more for Jughead because she really wants to be there than because she is working.

Truthfully, sleep had evaded Betty as well. Initially, she had spent her nights away from the hospital, giving Jughead and his sister time together without her. She had tossed and turned, missing the newly familiar feel of Jughead’s body in her bed, until she gave up and began spending her nights with him there in the hospital room. It wasn’t all for missing Jughead, though. Betty had grown attached to his sister, feeling like she had become a part of her life in such a big way. Betty began making daily trips to get them fresh clothes from Jughead’s apartment or would rush out into the traffic of the day to find the one thing Jellybean was craving when her appetite had momentarily come back. She found herself a part of their narrative, easing into it with a comfort she hadn’t expected. I know that this is really long but I couldn't make it shorter. Your writing style is freaking amazing.This is poetic and sweet and beautiful but with that almost haunting undertone that seems to have crept it's way into this chapter. We get to know a bit more about Betty and how she's slowly moving away from her role as JB's nurse and becoming a bigger part of their little family, even though you made it very clear at the start of the fic that Betty is very good at separating her work from her personal life. It really makes us appreciate how special her relationship with Jughead is. Subconsciously feeding that change to the reader also shows how seamless that transition is and how Betty doesn't even realise what she's getting herself into or at which point she crossed that line she used to stay well clear of.

Betty’s heart felt the pinch as she realized she had no legal right to be there. Before she could leave, however, Jughead shook his head and reached for her hand. The look on Dr. Klempner’s face was of mild surprise. “No, she can stay. I’d like her to be here for this.” This is where the tears started for me. Not only the few lines before it where the doctor came in and we knew something was wrong, or JB being the little warrior she truly is, but the notion of Betty being an actually part of their little family. A family as unorthodox as they come but still the one thing in the world that Betty wants more than anything in the world. It's heartbreaking to me that now she's finally got it, it's about to be ripped out from under her and leave her and Jughead in such a devastating period of grief.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” It was a simple question, but Betty could feel the weight of her words. Now it was time for my heart to actually break. Jellybean is such a strong character despite her age and the fact that she's worried about Jug despite the fact she's about to die really shows that. The little explanation after this line about what JB's life was actually like is tragic but, once again, shows how strong she is. The fact that she trusts Betty and feels close enough to her to confide in her is so adorable, it's just a shame we can tell that their time together is limited and we won't get to see more of their relationship.

“You can’t let him know, Betty. You can’t let him know what I know.” A death bed wish, a promise Betty knew she would have to honor. Rereading this chapter is making me sad but even more in appreciative of your writing because you really have put a lot of thought into each word. There are so many little moments which foreshadow events in the last two chapters and I know how hard that is to do properly to well done. This line gives me a sense of bittersweet happiness for a few reasons. First off, we get to see how much they really do value each other as people, not just as their roles of nurse and patient. Second, because Betty doesn't even hesitate to agree to JB's request, even though she probably knows in the back of her mind that this would hurt Jughead. Sure enough, it does eventually, but I really admire Betty for honouring her promise. It really does show how much she loves them both.

“Then you need to know you both have the support of everyone here.” “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.” I couldn't really chose one part of the Kevin/Betty conversation but these two lines stuck with me so I figured I might as well put both. I have no words for this part. Truly. It was so raw and real and emotional. It's an interesting shift to see Betty finally admit what's happened, to admit that she is a part of this special little family and she cares about JB because she loves her and not just because it's her job. It's good to have someone from the outside lay down the facts and really be there for Betty since she is definitely going to need it. She seems to be sort of isolated, without much of a support system. Even though she loves Jughead (and he loves her), she is giving him more support than he's giving her because he's the one that needs it the most, but that doesn't mean that Betty won't be grieving when Jellybean does pass away. It's nice to see someone finally acknowledge that. I think that the second to last line of that part really speaks to the person that Betty is and to how much she as grown from that experience. The fact that she's finally able to admit that she needs help is a big step for her. They did feel like a family. Betty knew when the time came for family to be cared for after Jellybean passed, she’d be one of the people needing emotional support.

Before I go into this part (which I did cry upon rereading), I found the sentence I was looking for before! When I was talking about the picture thingy in the first comment, it's here and not at JB's funeral. Oops. A snapshot of sadness

I can't find a good quote to use for this part. Every single line had so much meaning and was so carefully thought out that it felt wrong to separate them and I don't have enough characters to copy and paste the whole part. Let me just say that it was gorgeous. It was a truly beautiful way for JB to spend her last hour on this earth. A truly beautiful way for Jughead to say his goodbyes. A truly beautiful way to send of such a special person. I know that these are fictional characters but you make them feel so real. I have no shame in saying I was definitely crying throughout this whole part but I wouldn't have changed a single thing. JB's wishes for Jughead once she's gone were wise beyond her young age but were so heartfelt. I actually liked how you left Betty out of it a bit, how you acknowledged that despite her wishes and her feelings for the girl, this was Jughead's time and not hers, how you let her watch from the sidelines but still let her presence be known to the two people she had come to love so much in such a short period of time.

I'm not going to write about the last part because I think I've said enough but just know that I am now obsessed with your writing, even if it tears me apart, and the rest of the story left me with an odd sense of peace. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us. As I've said a few times already, I can tell how much thought and care you put into this and for that I am genuinely grateful. Thank you thank you thank you

#alex's reviews

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adamcoled · 8 years ago

Text

onsra | kenny omega | adam cole

kenny omega x reader, adam cole x reader

(v.) to love for the last time - a bittersweet feeling of knowing that a love won’t last

pt. 2

Summary: Long distance relationships are tough, but maybe it’s not the distance that gets in the way.

A/N: This is literally my first time ever posting any of my writing on Tumblr, so please be gentle and keep that in mind! <3 I intend to improve with each piece I post, but this is all very new to me. There will be a part two (maybe even a part three?) to this, which I have already written a good part of. Thank you so much for reading!

I'm not one to believe in magic, but even I can't deny there was something absolutely magical in the way the past two years had felt like ten years and two months simultaneously. They'd been full of irreplaceable highs and undeniable lows, the latter, although rare, being enough to leave me questioning what exactly I do this for.

The answer almost always came in the form of chanting fans, kickass opponents, and squared circles. When you have thousands upon thousands of eager eyes watching you, always anticipating something bigger and better, you learn to find the most motivation in just that.

Luckily for me, these two years had brought about the craziest, most unbelievable experiences, the ones that I'm sure I must've laughed at myself for even dreaming of in the past. I would've never guessed I'd be a valued member of the Bullet Club, alongside my best friends and boyfriend, Kenny Omega.

Funnily enough, I'd been with Kenny for nearly the entire two years I consider so wild. Maybe it was he himself that made the journey that way.

Regardless, he'd certainly been a major hand in creating the best years of my entire life, despite the hectic schedules, frequent exhaustion, conflicting timezones, and whatever else that'd been thrown at us. Putting together two downright badass souls creates nothing but a badass couple that manages to overcome all the odds.

At least, that's what I'd told myself all those months.

The offer comes so unexpectedly that I almost can't believe it. But when I think back on all the other "I can't believe it" moments I've had, this one doesn't seem that extraordinary. Maybe. Maybe not, actually. After all, an offer to sign to WWE and join NXT is something out of a dream. An unrealistic goal set by every preteen practicing wrestling moves on a backyard trampoline.

Which is exactly why I had to take it.

The only thing holding me back was the life I'd created elsewhere. The life I'd created in Japan with Kenny, the life I'd created whilst being in the Bullet Club. This was the life I'd be leaving, a thought that damn near physically hurt to think about. I told myself I had things to consider, people to talk to, before I accepted the contract, but somewhere within I had already said yes.

Once it was no longer a looming decision leaving me staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night while Kenny mumbles something along the lines of, "It's late, go to sleep," once all was said and done, I had an even more difficult decision to make. How, and when, would I tell Kenny? How would I tell my friends? Those that came to mind first wereAdam, Nick, and Matt, of course, but my absence would surely be noticed by plenty others. It hung over me constantly until suddenly, it didn't.

"Kenny," I muttered into the darkness; it must've been one o'clock in the morning and neither of us were asleep yet. It's silent and, for a moment, I wonder if he actually is asleep, even if our latest conversation ended just mere minutes ago.

"Hm?"

I couldn't help the exasperated breath that left my lips, the words that were to come leaving a sour taste in my mouth. "I have to move back to the States," I announced. "I got an offer to sign with WWE and...and I'm going to take it."

A silence much more deafening than the previous lingered about, the sheets rustling as Kenny turned to face me sounding ten times louder than it should.

"That's great, baby," Kenny congratulated, although his tone told a different story. His disappointment was clear, because all we'd known for so long was each other.

He didn't have to say anything more for me to know what he was thinking, I'd been thinking the same. There was no way for either of us to know how this would affect us. Even though we worked in an industry where anything and everything could happen, where nothing was one hundred percent, the unknown was still such a scary, scary thing to think about.

"Yeah, it is," I whispered. I curled into myself, an absentminded habit I must've acquired long ago without realizing. In a second, I was wrapped up into Kenny's arms, tears I didn't know were building up falling carelessly. I hated crying, and not because it made me feel weak, but because I did it so infrequently that when the waterworks did come out, it was really bad.

"C'mere," he pulled me closer, if possible, pressing kiss after kiss to my temple as the tears kept coming. "We'll be okay."

I'm not sure if I believed him or not, but I wanted to. I wanted to believe him so bad because I didn't know if I could bear the thought of it otherwise.

That night, I left a piece of my heart behind in that bed, and maybe that's what led to the entire thing breaking eventually.

The phone pressed to my shoulder had been all but forgotten as I hustled around my apartment doing various chores I'd put off for days on end. Since joining NXT, I'd been busier than ever before and struggled to make any time at all for anything besides training, events, and sleep.

"Y/N!" Kenny barked over the phone, jogging me out of my trance.

In a flash, guilt swept over my face as I realized I hadn't heard a thing he had said. "Sorry, sorry. I'm listening."

He sighed, the annoyance within it tugging at my heart. I'd hoped my leaving wouldn't be the end of us, but it seemed my attentiveness, or lack thereof, just might do it. "Are you busy?" he asked. "Because we can talk later, it's no big deal-"

"No! No, it's fine, I'm not busy. Promise."

"It's seemed like I've been talking to myself this whole time," he confessed, and I could practically see him rubbing his hand over his mouth in distress. "Just text me when you have the time."

The beeps emanating from my phone as he hung up came much too quick for me to even begin to argue, leaving me sitting cross-legged on my bed hoping I hadn't fucked up too bad. He was mad, and rightfully so, but I was over six thousand miles too far to make things right like I should.

That wasn't the last of situations like that. We were both busy and exhausted but trying our damn best to keep our relationship afloat. The timezones were awful but we'd managed to set aside time for quick FaceTime calls and late-night Skype dates. Perhaps this is what hurt most of all when it came crumbling down.

I'd flown to Japan for the few days I had off, but the trip had gone the complete opposite of how I'd hoped. We argued over petty things and then argued over arguing, and once we'd tired each other out of arguing, we'd have sex. I mean, the sex was great, but the arguing I could do without- and it seemed it was never-ending. Tonight's bout was especially rough.

"You're here now," Kenny began. "But all we've done is argue. And when you leave, it's going to go right back to how it was. The crazy schedules, never seeing each other, lazy conversations."

I hated it because I knew he was right. And I hated it even more because I wasn't sure there was anything either of us could do to fix it. We had moved on to different timelines and they were so utterly distinct it seemed the likelihood of us breaking up was increasing each day. "So what are you saying?"

Kenny sighed and shook his head.

"It just sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

The air was suddenly bitter and hateful, making it hard to breathe as the tears came rushing back to their newest home; I'd been crying more often than I'd like recently. The both of us knew what this meant but neither of us wanted to be the one to bring it up. Minutes passed by of uncomfortable silence until finally, finally Kenny decided to put an end to our misery.

"I think we both know what's coming," he says, "Let's just get it over with."

At this point, the tears were unrelenting, painting angry streaks of black down my cheek as I tried to hide away from the reality that was to come. I'd never been one to hide, but this was just beyond my strength. I nodded and he walked over. Before it could register in my mind, I was in my true home, my own little piece of heaven, wrapped comfortably and safely in Kenny's arms. I vowed to never rely on a man to feel safe, but if I could stay in this moment forever, shielded from all the mayhem in my life, I'd never complain again.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"Mhm. I love you, too," I affirmed, pressing my cheek against Kenny's hand as he brushed strands of loose hair behind my ears.

He let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before returning it to my cheek. "We can't keep doing this, babe. It's not healthy."

"I-I know. I just don't want to lose you," I admitted.

Hearing myself say that made it real. And what he said next brought it to life.

"You'll never lose me," he whispered near my ear, "This is just until life decides to sort itself out for us."

We were supposed to rely on life to "sort itself out." No definite answer that our relationship would ever pick back up, just a long-shot hope that some day, our paths would become one again.

I could understand a relationship falling apart because of carelessness or one-sided actions, but this? This made no sense. Knowing we were both trying so hard to keep this together and it still wasn't enough hurt more than anything, because what do you do when your best isn't good enough?

After our break-up, Kenny and I talked less and less, and reasonably so. It was down to barely one conversation a week, much to the dismay of our mutual friends. Matt and Nick especially insisted the two of us stay in touch, most likely because they knew more than anyone just how in love we truly were. They were great friends and wanted to make sure the door was always open for Kenny and I to start over.

Adam, however, wasn't as adamant. He'd gone along with what the brothers had said, agreeing it'd be best for us to remain good friends, but he never really seemed certain about it. It felt forced, as if they'd put him up to saying it. I couldn't wrap my head around it, but I figured it was just Adam being Adam.

Meanwhile, I'd been getting pushed to the stars in NXT. With Asuka's call-up looming over the entire roster, Regal and Hunter were set on making me the next big women's star. And just as I was getting comfy here, something came to shake things up. Or rather, someone.

Adam Cole.

Rumors of the charismatic three-time ROH champion signing to WWE were circulating for weeks, months even, until they finally came to fruition. Sure enough, he did just that. It was a huge score for the company and a huge score for me, a familiar face among the locker room. And according to the man himself, I'd been the first person he told.

"Guess who you'll be seeing in NXT," he brought up one day with that telltale smirk plastered on his face.

"How many guesses do I have?" I joked, just to mess with him. He hated when I did shit like that.

As I expected, he scoffed before the smirk made its comeback once more. "I'll give you a hint; you're looking at 'em."

I tapped my index finger on my chin, pretending to be lost in thought. In the moment, I'd been extremely excited to have one of my closest friends alongside me in a company I still barely knew, but I wouldn't give him the enjoyment of knowing that. "Adam Cole? He's okay, I guess," I shrugged, to which he rolled his eyes before laughing along with me. "Kidding. That's amazing, Adam! Sadly I won't be able to kick your ass over there."

"Shame. I really love it when you do that."

The conversations between Kenny and I dwindled down even further following Adam joining NXT, not that there was any correlation. It was an issue on both sides, though I can't be sure it was for the same reasons. I'd let hours pass before I responded, intentionally sending shorter replies in hopes he'd view it as "moving on." Hell, I'd been doing anything but moving on, but I'd never let him know.

Thankfully, having Adam by my side and being with him nearly twenty-four-seven only heightened our friendship and lifted my spirits. I never had the time to sulk over my broken heart because Adam would never let me. According to him, there were endless things to do and see and he was hellbent making sure I encountered every bit of it. Our proximity to Disney World even made for a few exciting trips to the Happiest Place on Earth. It truly lived up to its name, or maybe it was just the person I was with.

Adam always did have a knack for brightening days and lighting up faces.

Admittedly, things felt a little different. I couldn't help the schoolgirl giggle or the annoying blush the man always managed to get out of me with one of his signature flirtatious lines or, in other instances, genuine compliments. The latter weren't as frequent, only making an appearance when I'd dress up for media or little outings, but there was something clearly different about them. He'd stare at me for a few moments before that damn smile would break out, followed by the whispered "You look stunning." If anything, all I had was just a stupid crush, the same kind that you get in high school and never do a thing about.

Even if it wasn't, it had to be. There couldn't ever be anything between Adam and I, although I felt a strange twinge of pain at that limitation.

The later hours of the night have a habit of being my worst enemy. I'd blamed it on my reoccurring inability to fall asleep, my bouts of insomnia being caused by my own aprehension. Life was throwing it all at me at once and it seemed the dark hotel rooms made for the perfect overthinking atmosphere. Nights like tonight were the worst, because even though exhaustion bit at my sore body and tugged on my eyelids, sleep never came. It'd become a ritual for me to text Adam in these situations. Blinding myself with the bright light radiating off my phone, I typed quickly, hoping for a fast response: "You awake?"

Before I could set my phone aside, it lit up with Adam's name popping up at the top. I had no way of being sure I hadn't just woken him up myself, but I took the salvation nonetheless. He was always willing to go explore the beauty of a sleeping city.

I didn't even need to invite him; the knocking at my door gave me all the confirmation I needed. I got up too quick for my body's liking and the dizziness took over, but in a second I was by the door and opening it to reveal a dressed-down Adam; of course, he had to be even more attractive in casual clothing- a plain black t-shirt paired with gray sweatpants and his signature beanie. I must've been swooning for too long, because before I could step aside to let him in, he'd taken it upon himself to make himself at home in my bed.

"Nice to see you, too," I chuckled, making quick work of tying my Vans. "Sorry for this."

He smirked, leaning back on his elbows as he waited for me. "Not your fault you can't stay away from me for even a full night," he joked.

And right back to the flirtation. I couldn't catch a break.

"Right," I rolled my eyes, "Let's go."

Adam was indeed right about one thing; there always were things to do and each city we visited proved that fact. Sometimes, it wasn't even about what we saw or did. Sometimes, it was just about each other. There was something truly special in these late-night explorations, from the slight twinkle in his eye as he discussed his plans for his future in WWE to the simple way he pointed at sights he found cool.

Who was I to be noticing little things like this?

"What's on your mind?" he asked, lightly tugging on my arm to stop me from walking.

There were plenty of things on my mind, but none of those things seemed like they should be shared with the main perpetrator of them. "Nothing in particular," I shrugged, a silent plea for the subject to be forgotten, "Everything just seems so crazy lately." A massive understatement, really.

"Good crazy?"

"Considering I'm with Adam Cole in the middle of a city I barely know at twelve o'clock at night," I paused, "I'd say so."

He grinned, one that said a million things at once, a million incomprehensible things. He was a very hard guy to read, despite my many attempts to debunk him. I'd gotten to know Adam better than ever during times like these, but I knew there was too much swimming in that complex brain of his to ever fully understand. "Are you saying this has been a dream of yours?" he asked confidently, getting the slightest bit closer as a couple of people passed by us on the sidewalk.

I laughed, a sarcastic thing that was meant to have him feeling defeated. Clearly, it only spurred him on more as he grinned even wider. "That's not what I'm saying at all."

"Damn," he cursed, "Because it's definitely been one of mine."

And then he's getting closer and I'm moving forward and the whole world is spinning and oh God I'm really doing this. It's one of those moments when you stop thinking and let your body do as it wishes and it just so happened that mine led me to kissing Adam right there on that sidewalk. My brain had no control over my actions, my reasoning and decision-making long forgotten. Fuck them both, this felt too good. Too right. It shouldn't have felt right kissing my best friend, Kenny's best friend; it should have felt like a mistake and tasted like betrayal, but betrayal was the last thing on my mind with his mouth on mine.

"Adam..." I breathed out, my arms wrapped around his neck and mere centimeters between our lips. As if it physically pained him to be apart, he reconnected our lips once more, letting out breathy sighs of content. "Adam," I repeated.

He pulled back, his arms still resting on my back where it felt like they belonged all along. "Shit, sorry...."

I cleared my throat, stepping back and shutting my eyes tight. Maybe, if I thought about an alternative universe enough, it'd take me to one. Didn't work. "We can't do this," I whispered, shaking my head at my own carelessness. "This," I motioned between us, "This isn't right."

"But it sure as hell felt like it," he argued, "You can't tell me that you didn't feel anything just then."

He was right, sure enough. I'd been having that debate with myself for months now, over what I was feeling for Adam. I'd be an idiot not to realize I was just trying to feed myself lies to refrain from complicating the entire situation even more; things between Kenny and I were rough enough as is. The last thing our strained friendship needed was interference from Adam.

"Even if it did, it shouldn't have. Adam, I still love Kenny. He's your best friend," I said, a little harsher than I intended.

"And I love you!" he shouted, a few lone passersby turning to the booming voice. The confession was enough to leave me breathless, glued to the cement and fighting to find my voice. He seemed shocked himself, as if he didn't mean to say it, and he probably didn't it. Whether it was the truth or not, he didn't want me to know, not yet at least. And before I could even reply, he'd began walking back to our hotel.

I had been frozen, but once I realized he was literally and figuratively walking away from his problems, I shook out of my stupor. In a second, I was right beside him once more. "You can't just say something like that and walk away as if nothing happened."

He frowned, scoffing as he stopped in his tracks. "Isn't that what you want? Consider it done. Nothing happened."

When he walked off yet again, I didn't stop him.

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